I’m deep in thought. Is this woman the kind of girl who gets down on all fours and takes it like a porn star or is she the kind of girl that lies back and secretly looks at her watch while you are on top of her? I have no idea but it looks like the former. Then my contemplation is ruined by the devil himself.

“Hey, give me your stapler.” Giant Penis is standing at my desk.

No please or anything, he just demands it as if I am his well-groomed labradoodle that sits in the corner all day licking my balls, waiting for my masters voice so I can jump to attention.

I hate Giant Penis. The last time I lent him a stapler I never got it back. I had to steal this one from Quiet Indian Guy in order to get my work done. I probably wouldn’t give a fuck if I didn’t hate Giant Penis so much… but I do. He’s always treated me like shit but then again he treats everyone like shit. He just happens to treat me like shit to my face.

“Hello, Malcolm. Pass me the stapler.” He’s got a long-term girlfriend. I’ve heard him on the phone with her. He sounds like a castrato, with his sudden soft-spoken voice and reliance on cutesy nouns and adjectives. Yet he’s always talking to the other guys about the babe he banged over the weekend. Plus I walked in on him at an office party in the middle of a session with an office intern.

She was a stunner. She looked like Lischen Botes with short black hair. I remember seeing her pert breasts exposed with her legs spread sitting over the copier. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t masturbated over the metal impression it left, replacing Giant Penis with myself. P.S I don’t refer to Giant Penis as Giant Penis because I saw his equipment, it’s simply because he’s a royal dick. He does probably have a much bigger penis than me though because that’s how God works.

“Malcolm are you retarded? Stapler!” I have had enough of his crap. I grab the stapler and jump up.

“Do you want the fucking stapler?” In a fit of rage I grab Giant Penis and slam his head onto my desk. Weeks of work scatters around the cubicle. My Daredevil action figure veers towards the edge and takes a giant leap of faith towards the floor. I spread the stapler wide open, like Giant Penis probably did to that intern, and I begin to slam it into his skull. It’s kind of strange when you ram a stapler into someone’s head. You are obviously expecting the staples to do the damage (who the hell knows why?) but they are too small to harm him. They just bounce off his skull like bullets to Superman. At the same time though the heavy metal structure of the stapler is causing serious damage. The dents in his skull are becoming bigger with each pounding and little staples are shooting off like woodchips.

Maybe in a few minutes my body will cool down and I will think logically. I will look at the blood and then possibly consider the consequences of my actions. I’ll probably cry like a baby and turn around and see the rest of the office staring at me like some kind of freak. And The Russian? She’ll never want me now. Not that she wanted me before but why would she want a psycho.

Then again maybe she likes bad boys. On seeing my alter ego she’d fall madly for me. She would visit me in prison and we’d have crazy conjugal visits. Or maybe she’ll grab my hand now and help me escape. We can move over to the Caribbean or back to South Africa and have a sex filled life on the run.

“Malcolm, the stapler!” Giant penis interrupts my fantasy. I pass him the stapler. I hate myself. I can only hope that Quite Indian Guy one day decides to snap and show Giant Penis what a stapler is really all about.