Writing On The Wall

The font I’m using to type this is called “Calibri”. I bet someone from out California way gave it that name. The land of fruits and nuts I tell you. It’s so stupid how people from California say bro all the time. They would probably suggest that this font should then be called CaliBRO, cus that’s where the best bros come from. Just saying. Well, writing. Let’s be honest here. Writing with electronic ink by the way, which brings me to my main point. Don’t stick your pen in company ink, wise doers. Not wise at all! Here’s what happens: Everyone and their Grandmother gets to see the writing on the wall. In this case, the ink was semen from a sobriety penis. It usually shoots out messages in the form of fortune cookies, right out of the snake eye. But this isn’t craps, snake eyes are no good here folks. This is just pure crap. No “s” on the end of it. Never heard of anyone going to take a craps, have you? “Hey Mark, I gotta go take a shits now.” Singular not plural. Not to be confused with Maths, the effective educational tool for helping youngsters with numbers. Even numbers can show it’s important to wear a condom over your sobriety penis. It helps prevent against spiritually transmitted diseases. Especially helpful if you’re the primary penetrator. In this case multiple penises were used to penetrate. So the odds of a disease we’re minimized to some degree. Diseases were running rampant, Down syndrome, turrets, epilepsy. Very hard to keep a condom on when you’re flopping around like a fish. These are very horrible diseases. They are also very contagious.

Another consequence of sexual relations between coworkers is the awkwardness that follows. Wanna stick your ball point in that cup of ink? I suggest you get some Febreeze because you’ll need to be prepared to air out some jizz-stained laundry. Nothing like the look on the face of your coworkers as they start to get a wiff of those crusty yellow boxer briefs you’ve been wearing for 2 days. You hamster, you. My advice, don’t wear underwear. No evidence to leave behind. Especially if said sexual encounter takes place at the job site.

There’s certainly going to be no romance or candlelight dinners there, just roast beef. Very rare to find some that isn’t pink. But if it’s discolored, or smells like tuna and cheese, run! This is not boar’s head. Quit your job. You won’t want anyone seeing your face at that place again. You can always make hot dogs or sell meat door to door.

Check ID>. Very important. 15 can get you 20. Your coworkers may look real young. I’ve got news for you, they probably are. 3rd graders want stuff too. Can’t really blame them. Another sign your coworker may not be of legal age to bang, a Justin Beiber lunch box. Besides your scrotum, pay attention to what they’re eating.

Last but not least: competition. Others have probably written on this wall. You just can’t see it as the ink will appear invisible to you. Your coworkers will probably have gotten away with writing on the wall numerous times but will read your writing and call you a pimp. They’ll gossip about you. Tell other coworkers about your extremely small penis size. For these reasons and many more, it is suggested that the parking lot is not a good location for erotic encounters. One might suggest getting in your manual transmission automobile and driving to the closest Dunkin Donuts. The bathroom there is ideal. The door has a lock on it, and every encounter ends with a happy ending; donuts.

I hope this information was useful to you and your fellows. In times of peace and times of war may this be a lesson to you. Unless you’re the one signing the checks, try not to stick your pen in the company ink.