I’ve taken to eating in my cube more and more often. I like it; gives me a chance to post here and not have to pretend I’m working between incubations on something important.
Well, mostly this helps.
Not this week. One of my slobbering cow-irkers, who occupies a cube immediately adjacent to mine (soon I will be a senior scientist, have my own four walls, and the rest of them can go to hell) has been eating his lunch in-cube as well.
At least I don’t have to watch, but…
[COW-IRKER]
Nyom, nyom, nyehm…sluuuuuuuurp. Smack, smack, smack. Snort. Snooooooort. Sniffle. Gurgle. Hawk. Ptooey. Nyom. Much, smack, nyom, smack…slurrrrrrp. Suck, sluuuuuuuurp…COUGH. COUGH, COUGH, HACK. SNOOOORT. Gulp. Smack. Smick, smick, nyim, smack. Snort. Cough. Hack…ptooey. Sniffle. Sniffle, sniffle.
SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!!!
[/COW-IRKER]
Gaaaaaaaaaaah! Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck! It’s so fucking DISGUSTING! Shit, I may as well just tape a stethescope to his gut, hook it all up to a giant amplifier, and blast the sounds of his digestion throughout the office. I mean, hell, why go halfway? The sounds of his slobbering mastication are such a treat, I’m sure the gurgling horror of peristalsis would add a nice second act, with a juicy fart the perfect denouement.
Fucking fuck fuckity fuck. I’m this close, THIS FUCKING CLOSE, to telling the guy to chew, slurp, whatever the fuck it is he does, with his goddamn piehole closed, or LEAVE THE OFFICE AREA. God-DAMNIT! When has “the line” been crossed? When am I no longer the boorish and intolerand white man, and instead the nauseated citizen with a legitimate axe to grind?
FUCKING BARF-O-RAMA!