Detective Milquetoast is the most boringest man on this entire planet of Earth. Worse still, he is the most annoyingest man on this entire planet of Earth. DM is the kind of guy who actually responds when you ask, “Hey, how you doin’?”
IT’S A RHETORICAL QUESTION, ASS SPELUNKER! I DON’T GIVE A RAT’S ASS HOW YOU’RE DOING!!!
I’m sorry, where were we? Oh yeah, so Thursday night a few of my coworkers found out I wrote a book. (I purposely didn’t tell anyone in the division because I was afraid they would laugh, or tell my my book sucked goat balls.) Two detectives asked if they could read it, so I brought in a copy for each.
About a half hour later, Milquetoast corners me in the kitchen, and my only defense was a spork. The conversation was “unpleasant.”
DM: “Hey, how many books did you sell?”
Me: “Not enough.”
DM: “Guess. How many do you think?”
Me: “I don’t know; just under 300.”
DM: “That’s it? What, is it not good? People just don’t want to buy it?”
Me: “I guess that’s it, dude. Can I cook my dinner now?”
DM: “I’m just saying… maybe people don’t like you. Maybe they thought the book wasn’t worth their time.”
Me: (Now I’ve entered Ignore Mode.) “Maybe.”
DM: “Hey, I saw you had books today. Can I get one?”
Me: “No, those were my last two. Maybe you can go to Amazon and buy one so I don’t have so few sales?”
DM: “Nah, I’ll just wait until Jackson finishes her copy and bum it off her.”
Sadly this is a typical conversation for Milquetoast. He saunters up, bothers you until you respond, then smiles as he passive-aggressively insults you.
Naturally I was in a foul mood for the rest of the evening, plotting Milquetoast’s demise with a convoluted James Bondian plan. It was not needed, however, since the gods of fate smiled upon me.
An hour before quitting time, Detective Milquetoast had to drive out to a 5292 – or a “dead body” – in the division’s most outermost neighborhood. Have fun with that, jerkass!