“He smells of freshly laundered linen and some expensive body wash.”
During the last stream, we spun the Wheel of Prompticality, which landed on: “Write a story using random sentences from Fifty Shades of Grey.”
We’ve done this a few times before, and it’s always been fun.
Here’s the three randomly-chosen sentences we had to use:
- Holy Moses, I’ve slept for a solid nine hours.
- He smells of freshly laundered linen and some expensive body wash.
- I flush, and my gaze strays to his snug jeans.
Here’s what we came up with: (Fifty Shades sentences in bold)
Holy Moses, I’ve slept for a solid nine hours. That’s the longest I’ve ever slept at my desk at work. I look around to see if anyone noticed me sleeping on the job, but the coast was clear. Thank god for cubicles.
Next to me, Jonathan the office manager is still on the phone complaining to a supplier about a botched shipment of staples, and on the other side Melissa from accounting is busy crunching away numbers at a clacking seventy words per minute. I merely stretch, yawn silently, and stand up, ready to take a bathroom break.
I strut along the pathway to the restroom, head held high. I need to do that not to feel so small. I’m far and away the shortest employee, and while it usually doesn’t bother me, the way everyone always babies me does kind of get annoying sometimes. All the cooing voices and head pats are a little excessive. At least I get my revenge by sleeping my way through my paycheck.
I almost make it to the end of the row of cubicles before I’m ambushed. Steve from HR bumbles out from his box, his backrolls and muffin tops barely held in by his industrial-strength suspenders. His eyes light up when he looks down to me through his coaster-sized spectacles, and I can’t tell if he’s sweating because of the physical exertion from standing up, or because he’s just happy to see me.
“Hey there, little guy!” he chuckles. “How you doing today?”
Before I can even reply, or better yet attempt an escape, he’s wrapped his meatball-sub arms around me, drenching me in his special sauce. My face is pressed into his chest, and as bad as his damp sweaty clothes are, I do have to admit it’s not entirely all bad. He smells of freshly laundered linen and some expensive body wash. The man may have some sort of gland disorder, but at least he keeps his pits fresh.
Finally he lets go, and though I’m a little dazed I shake it off, smile, and continue to the bathroom. At least I’ll be able to poop in privacy.
…is what I think until Dave from marketing steps in front of the bathroom door.
“Whoa there buddy!” he says with a giggle. The soul patch on his chin bobbles up and down like a hairy caterpillar wiggling across his bald globe of a head. “Do you need a stepstool? Or a booster seat?”
I don’t laugh at his joke. I just push my way into the bathroom, ready to do my business. I hop into an open stall, ready for some privacy, but apparently Dave is not.
“Oh I gotta see this,” Dave says, standing in front of my open stall. He leans in and whispers, “Just pretend like I’m not even here.”
I don’t think it’s possible for this situation to be any more awkward. And it’s not like I can even report him to HR, not if I want to have to deal with sweaty Steve again. So I just sit there, turning my head to the side, pretending like this isn’t happening. I hope that the smell of my business will send Dave running, but if anything it just makes him more excited.
“Wow, I can’t believe you actually did it!” he says. “Nice going, dude.”
He leans in with his hand for a high five. I merely graze my fingers against his palm, happy that I haven’t cut my nails in a long time. I hope he bleeds.
I flush, and my gaze strays to his snug jeans. The next time he goes to the bathroom, I should definitely accompany him and cheer him on as he struggles to peel those suckers off his ham-thighs. That would at least be a fitting revenge.
Without wasting another second, I leap off the toilet past Dave and dash back into the office. Why do I even bother working here? All I get every day is nothing but harassment, and the pay is barely worth it.
That’s when the smell hits me. I stop in my tracks and snap my head toward the break room. Right there, inside, I can see a scrumptious snack waiting just for me.
I sprint into hunter mode, honing right in on my prey. It’s there, on top of the table. The last one. The only one.
A fat, delicious mouse.
Before the mouse even realizes I’m there, I’ve already pounced on the table and snapped my teeth into its body. It’s dead in seconds, and I get a firmer grip on it before I leap to the ground on my paws and scurry back to my cubicle, tail held high.
Along the way, Steve peeks out while on the phone and bursts into applause. Melissa gives me a thumbs up, and Jonathan looks over the cubicle to congratulate me. Even Dave, creepy Dave, comes over and uses The Brush on my back. I love The Brush.
“Good job, Leo!” he says. “Finally took care of the break room bandit. I knew we hired the right guy for the job.”
Damn straight you did, sucka. Now keep brushing.
And if you want to see me rant about the most recent episode of Game of Thrones,
while Abbey tries not to shrivel away, feel free to watch this.
If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
