The Work Hubby (Comedic)

She fiddled with the green cloth sack. The cord had been kicking her ass for nearly two minutes before she decided to give up. She balled up the bag and threw it in the soldiers face. “Take your shit,” she said through her teeth. Venom dripped from her raggedy, vapid tongue as she enunciated each filthy syllable. Her foul words echoed through the warehouse.

“Next,” she screamed. The next soldier in line wheeled his ragged cart up to her counter. Failing to acknowledge his existence, she turned to her partner. “What size?!” Her acid jumped from her mouth into his face, burning his flesh as she laughed.

“Mike Romeo.” His reply was weak, almost bitch-like.

“Who the fuck is Mike Romeo, bitch?”

Her partner trembled in fear, knowing that her harsh words would soon be followed by a volley of master combatant level punches. “I’m sorry, I mean ‘medium regular.’”

“Then say that.” She grabbed the laundry bag full of gear and flung it into the soldier’s chest, knocking the breath out of him. The thin cotton fabric absorbed his tears as they rolled off his face.

Her mood was as hostile as ever. She arrived at work that way. After triple parking her Mercedes, smoking three cigarettes in the parking lot, and pushing one of her coworkers down the stairs, it was apparent that her nature knew no peace. However, there was one thing that could calm her, Dauntrell.

Dauntrell worked only a few feet away from her. His giant, Herculean frame blocked the sun from her eyes. All she could see was him and his massive, thick, meaty, hands. She drooled at the thought of how far he could throw her with those mitts of his.

She walked away from her work station as the next soldier waited, quietly. “Hey Dauntrell!”

“What’s up Tandace?” For the record, even she hated her name. Legend says that she was actually the reincarnation of a bitter hate demon by the same name. He was known for his crotchety, cantankerous demeanour towards any and everyone for absolutely no reason at all. That was Tandace’s trademark. She was racist and a thief too, though. She could be considered worst than the demon, actually.

“What’s the name of that boxing gym, again?” She tilted her head to the side in an attempt to be cute and bat her eyes at him.“ She wanted him, and he knew it. “I’m thinking about going.”

His eyebrows rose up and away from his forehead, floating away completely. “Oh yeah? It’s called ‘Throat Kick, Dope Shit University.’ It’s pretty hard core, though.”

“Good,” she replied. “Because I wanna fight you.” They smiled at each other. The exchange was nothing more than a poorly disguised act of foreplay. The tension was strong enough to crush their coworkers, who served as nothing more than a backdrop for their stage show. “I wanna fight you hard.”

“Oh yeah? You wanna come up behind me and choke me to death?”

“You know it.” Her breathing intensified as she continued. “I wanna pull your kneecaps off and use them to exfoliate my skin.”

“Word?” Dauntrell’s eyes widened.

“I wanna wear your feet on my hands, and just walk around like that.”

Dauntrell fell back, blown away by what he was hearing. His heart started beating in anticipation. “What else do you want?”

“I wanna chew your elbow skin while I wear your beard and chin as a hat.”

“Don’t stop, Tandace. Tell me more.” Dauntrell took his shirt off, sweat glistening all over him. “Keep talking.”

“I wanna…” she started losing focus as the sun reflected off Dauntrell’s sweat like an erotic disco ball or some shit. “I wanna, push you threw a window and drop household electronics down on your head! I wanna grab a samurai sword and chop you up for no damn reason. I wanna push you down in a parking lot, run you over a few times, spatula your ass up, flip you over, and run you over again.

Dauntrell was at his limit. He couldn’t hold it anymore. He lunged towards her. He had to—

“—what the fuck are y’all doing?!” A familiar voice bellowed through the warehouse. It was their supervisor, Mr. Handcover. He was louder than usual. His voice screeched the ears of everyone around. “Y’all are at work! Conduct yourselves like some GOTDAMN adults! Grab that box over there, move that pallet, and take that sexy shit upstairs to the break room, because y’all about to have Mr. Handcover in here having an asthma attack.”

Tandace quickly wrapped packing tape around her fists, channeling all her strength into her right arm. She punched Dauntrell in the face, knocking him out cold. The warehouse fell silent. Tandace looked down at her dreamboat coworker while lighting a cigarette and taking a long heavy drag of sweet nicotine from it. Dauntrell blinked his eyes open, slowly focusing on the champion standing over him. “Give me thirty minutes and we can go for round two.

“You get ten.”

The End

“I can’t wait to write a blog post about this tonight! I’m gonna romanticize that little exchange you two just had.” — Jae Davis

5 comments

  1. Thoroughly enjoyed it! That was such a comedic Hollywood screenplay scene, I swear I was watching the tale unravel before me, sentence by sentence. I was giddy and giggling most of the time, but then was shocked and wanted to cringe and protest at the same time for certain portions of this fictional piece. This combatant form of flirting is actually called “amoureux tragiques Quaaludes” in French or “The Lovers Tragic Quaaludes”.. They must have been trippin on something…lol Lets say…they wee on drugs…Thank you for sharing this tale I’ll never forget!

    Like

    • This was a fun piece I wrote about two of my coworkers. It was super super romanticized though. I will most likely take it down within a few days though. My other coworkers who know about the site may take my jokes and run with them. I write for fun, not for malice.

      Like

    • Actually, this picture was drawn by a coworker of mine last year! She drew that one, one of me, and one of another coworker. I have pics of all three, but that one was perfect for this particular story.

      Like

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