Shock Value

Oh. My. God.

Bawhum, who today was hotdesking at the desk across from me, exclaimed with a weirdly ecstatic look on his face.

I raised my head and threw a crooked eye his way, tutting loudly before lowering myself back into the incredibly important pyramid shaped thingy I was making in excel.

It had different coloured layers and was a jaggy masterpiece of beauty. I suspected many boners would be popped when it found its way onto an email I was going to send.

There was a weird slurping noise and a muffled pleasure-grunt from across the desk as if a lady pig had discovered an alternate use for Nutella.

What in the fucking blazes was going on? I jerked a leg out to make sure that someone hadn't somehow sneaked into my workplace and wasn't at this moment scrabbling about under the desks like an unwanted felatio-ninja.

My foot struck nothing but air.

It seemed there were no hungry wayward mouths on the prowl.

I applied Occam's Razor and rapidly deduced that if a sneaky ninja wasn't prowling around under the desks sucking random IT people off then the person making all the noise had to be sucking themselves off, Jerry Banfield style.

Which, frankly, in a work situation was a poor show.

Sighing, I raised my head up to see what was going on.

And I saw the most horrible thing in the world.

I jerked back in my chair at the sight and let out an involuntary squeak of horror.

Bawhum, what the fuck are you doing?

I gasped like an old woman that needed re-upholstering.

Wha'? Whassup?

Replied Bawhum belligerently.

We had history, he and I. He had never forgiven me for announcing loudly in a meeting that I thought I could smell balls whilst pointedly staring at him.

Could you stop that, man? It's fucking rank.

I twisted my head so that I was looking at a different hemisphere as to the one he was inhabiting.

What? I'm only licking my spoon?

He waved the offending spoon at me as if it were a sword and he a knight of the realm bobbing about mid-battle on an angry war-horse.

You are not licking it, you were sucking it. Like a cock, actually.

I WAS NOT!

He half rose out of his seat, his face red and angry.

You fucking were. It was foul. It has put me right of my salt beef sandwiches.

I pushed my plastic sandwich tub away from me and made a cat sniffing-balls-that-hum kind of face.

Well, fuck off. I wasn't. You just love causing trouble.

He sat back down grumpily.

Cause trouble? Me?

No I don't.

I said eminently reasonably.

You do man, you are always saying stuff just for the shock value. So, for your information, I was not sucking my spoon off, I was eating soup from it. Ok?

He glared at me triumphantly, his little eyes glittering like raisins in a mouldy bun.

I looked back impassively.

How dare he say I say things for the shock value. Pfft, as if that could be true.

Soup? What kind of soup?

I asked innocently.

He took a moment to answer.

Potato and leek.

He eventually grumbled, sitting and raising another spoon to his mouth.

Do you like that soup because it looks like jizzum?

I asked innocently.

He clattered his spoon back into his bowl and looked at me as if he either wanted to kill me or make mad angry love to me.

Fuck off, bastard.

He muttered.

I winked and got up to go out for a coffee.

Gladly. Enjoy your spunk soup, ya filthy beast.

I walked away whistling happily.

Who said I say things for shock value?