And one oddball
by Harbinger of Death

The Debs down in the basement were quiet when they heard the Harbinger come in. They didn’t usually, but this time he was carrying something huge, and yelling at it. It was a big old birdcage, and scrunched up inside it was a big goofy-looking guy in a button-down shirt with a pocket protector. Harbinger hung it up on the ceiling next to the holding cell, where its prisoner crouched in fear.

“And let me tell you something else, Mr. Upper Management. Don’t you EVER go and make changes in these branches when you’ve never even worked in one a single day of your rotten snobby life. I don’t care if you are the Vice President of the f#$%in’ company, when I spent literally all damn night in that place making it the most organized and perfect-looking place in the world, you don’t just come in the next day and mess with everything, do you understand?” HoD was livid, and actually scary in his rage. The man nodded, eyes wide.

“F&*@ing morons,” HoD muttered, and handed sacks to the surprised Debs. “Here are some rotten tomatoes. I want you to vent your frustrations and throw them at this man.” He left, storming out in fury.

“What’s your name?” asked Bluetopaz.

“Bob,” said the guy.

“So what’s your story, Bob?”

“I dunno, I don’t get it. I don’t get out to the branches much, there are hundreds of them, but I happened to be in one area last week and decided to stop by, and it just seemed to me like a few changes could be made.”

“So you changed things?” asked Bt.

“Sure, I’m the boss. I’m the general manager after all.”

“Was he right? You’ve never worked in one?”

“Well.....no.”

“Do you spend much time in them?”

“Of course not. I’m in the home office. It’s my job to make the rules, not to carry them out. That’s what I hire these part-time lackeys for.” Bob was condescending.

“Then you are a twit,” said Bt. “Harbinger told me about all the work he put in for his regular job. He really did stay all night, until 5:45 in the morning, to get that place looking great. I can’t believe you came in there and changed it!”

“Well, it’s my right!” he complained, puffing up his chest.

“You look hungry to me,” said Bt, and lobbed a hefty tomato at him. SPLAT! There it went, all over his nice stupid striped shirt. The other Debs grabbed the mushy veggies and followed suit. Soon he was covered in rotten tomato, and they had a good laugh at him. What a dope.