Eat Shit

from Chopped

You don't care to hear his snide accusations, and you spring to your feet.

At 6'6, with 250 pounds of pure muscle, and sporting a body you put far more effort into this job, you are a terrifying figure to your miniature manager. Add in the lifetime of martial arts training and you're probably the biggest bad-ass in this office.

“Eat shit and die!” You yell, delivering a harsh haymaker right into Jeff's left eye.

Caught up in the moment, time seems to slow down as you watch your fist slam into his orbital, delivering exactly 929.58 pounds of pressure. Your knuckles cause the bone around the eye to crumble and shatter, and Jeff's terrified expression is replaced by a blank one. In a heartbeat, you see his other eye roll up, and his small body flies backwards, onto the empty desk behind him. The stupid mug he was carrying seems to suspend in the air for a second, before crashing to the ground, sending his “Irish-ified” coffee spilling onto the carpet.

This office doesn't really have an “office slut”, but the next best thing is Angie from the mail room. Pushing her cart around, she witnesses your knock out hit, and shrieks like she's seen a ghost. In the time it takes for the office to hear your war cry and her bellowing, 50 heads turn and stare at you.

A long, awkward silence ensues when you lift your head and look around. Nobody is willing to make eye contact with you, and all pretend to be immersed in something really interesting. 8 full seconds pass, and Jeff's unconscious body slides pathetically onto the floor, complete with a squeaking sound as his faux leather belt screech the excessively polished plastic desk.

This is normally when, in a boxing match you'd raise your hands above your head and rejoice in your victory. In a street fight, you'd instead spit on him and take his wallet. Neither seemed to really fit the deadly silent vibe in the office, now that Angie stopped screeching.

Your co-workers cower at their desks for the most part, but one man stands up, smiling widely. “Well done, young man.” He says, and begins to saunter over.

“Huh?” You ask.

“We've known Jeff here was going to shoot up the building for months now. I'm from the police, and we've been undercover, shadowing this guy for a few weeks now. But it seems you figured that out too, and took care of him for me.

Your eyes dart left and right. “Uhh... yep. He told me all about his plan.”

“Well, great job catching him.” The undercover cops says, smiling brightly. “You know, my agency has need of some incredibly talented young men. How would you like to come work with us?”

“Uh...” You say, collecting your thoughts. If you accept his offer, that would probably just the exciting shot in the arm your life was looking for. On the other hand, police work isn't something you'd like to do. Too much paperwork. Plus, then you can't get high anymore.

What do you say?


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 * To turn down the job, go to GO HOME