zimbits. “Less homicidal thoughts about your annoying coworker right now, please. I’m in a meeting over here.” pLEASE
Charlie asked for this about 30 years ago but I’m just getting around to it now. It’s prompt from this list.
If he thinks I’m going to let a single tart anywhere near his ruinous Trump-sized hands he’s got another thing coming. Actually, no. He can have as many tarts as he wants. Kill ‘em with kindness, and arsenic worked into the whipped cream. I’d have to add more vanilla to balance it out but–
If Jack wasn’t in a sponsorship meeting, he would be inclined to promptly bash his head into the wood of the table. It had been like this for a few weeks ago, a voice filtering in at the most inopportune times, going on diatribes against who he was presuming was the voice’s coworker (”–even the way he counts out change is annoying. The Lord is testing me. We should’ve kept the antique register, it would have hurt more when I ‘accidentally’ shut the drawer on his fingers that he just licked to count out the bills. Yes, I would LOVE my spit covered change. THANK YOU.”)
Unfortunately, Jack thought it was unlikely that NIKE would appreciate their new brand ambassador actively giving himself a concussion, so he shot the representative across the table a smile and nodded to whatever was being said before reverting back inside his head.
As ambitious as your assassination attempt is, if you could keep it to yourself I would appreciate it.
There wasn’t even a moments pause before he got his reply.