the narrative was all beep beep beep

the narrative of the relationship introduced into the office is always tricky the death of a thousand mental paper cuts is funny. still. the narrative was all beep beep beep truck backing up through a migraine in the office looking out the window no I don't want to fuck you. no I don't want you to fuck me. it wasn't a grammar test. are those sparrows or are those little fat sculpture birds? they don't move. no I'm not just fucking with you either. did you think it was a fuckme flirt in a miniskirt posing as a no. no you dumbfuck it was a fuck off posing as a polite sentence. titter titter. who taught you how to read the air? still I do find your napoleon dynamite autism just a little sexy. every cubicle wad. has some up his sleeve. sometimes i want to try all the flavors at the checkout. slut i know. it's only fun if you let me learn your pathology and then the normal parts of you that work properly will really bore the shit out of me. superfast. at least when you fuck the IT guys you know they have the computer programming of sparrows. i mean sex. so a great relief. then you go to bed at night you'll still hear the truck backing up won't you beep beep beep goes the narrative warning you you're about to smack your ass your metal ass against the building. that's really something. your complete faith in conversation as a bathmat to put down under the really good really messy sex we're so not going to have.