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I'Ll Go Home Then, It's Warm and Has Chairs. The Unpublished Emails. -, page 3


I'Ll Go Home Then, It's Warm and Has Chairs. The Unpublished Emails. -

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  Regardless, you will be pleased to learn that due to your absence last week leaving me with a spare hour per day, which is usually dedicated to staring at the back of your head with one eye closed doing that thing with your thumb and finger where you squash it, I did do my time-sheets.

  Please find attached.

  Regards, David.



  Arrived at work. Considered staying home in bed but, with Simon being away this week, there is no real reason to be absent. Checked production schedule. Completed my work for the week.


  Cleaned my mouse.


  Left for the day.



  Arrived at work. Answered the phone on Simon's desk with "Hello, this is Simon Dempsey speaking. How may I be of help to you?" Told client I would have a pdf to them "as quick as a cheetah."


  Accessed Simon’s computer using his secret password ‘Archmage’ in order to locate and send requested pdf to client. Sent. Read Simon's emails. Replied to his mother regarding her question about what to get Auntie Maureen for her birthday. Recommended jumping castle.


  Attempted to log into Simon's Facebook. Clicked 'send me my password.' Checked Simon's email. Logged into Simon's Facebook.

  Changed status to single. Sent Karen a message saying "Ignore the status change. We haven't broken up. I just don't want anyone to know I have a girlfriend."

  Looked at pictures Simon uploaded of himself in a boat. Googled the names of the two guys in Miami Vice. Tagged Simon's nipples 'Sony' and 'Chubbs'.


  Left for the day.


  Arrived at work. Read about Emperor penguins on Wikipedia while having my morning coffee at Simon’s desk. Drew pictures of penguins.


  Realised the permanent Sharpie I was drawing with had penetrated the paper and Simon’s desk now had eighteen penguins saying 'Hey' on it. Hunting for something to clean it with, I used the key Simon hides behind the framed photo of his cat Lady Diana to unlock his top drawer. Found Star Wars Lego.

  Recreated the scene from the movie where, during a light-saber duel, Vader cuts off Luke's right hand, reveals that he is his father, and entreats him to convert to the dark side so they can rule the galaxy as father and son. Lost Luke's hand behind Simon's desk.


  Chased and killed a bee in the office with Simon’s mousepad rolled into a tube while making light-saber noises. Closed Simon's window.


  Thought about the bee’s family waiting expectantly at home for his return. Gave them names. Imagined Bradley rushing into his mother’s outstretched arms, bewailing, “I miss him so much” and Brenda replying, “I know Bradley, I miss him too.”

  Performed ceremony. There was cake. Constructed a small funereal pyre on Simon's desk out of a paperclip, placed Ben's small lifeless body on top, mentioned his selfless determination to provide for his family, and set it alight.

  Unfortunately, I was only into the first verse of Bohemian Rhapsody, the only church song I know, when Ben’s body popped like a corn kernel and flew behind the desk. Unsure if he was still alight, I poured coffee down after him. Realising nobody has ever been behind Simon’s desk due to its size and position against a rear wall, I also dropped the remains of the cake and the plate down the back to save me having to walk into the kitchen. Accidently knocked Simon's pencils down there as well. And then his mousepad.


  Left for the day.



  Arrived at work.


  Sat in Simon's chair without my pants on.


  Left for the day.


  Called in sick. Went shopping. Bought a Keurig.


  From: Simon Dempsey

  Date: Monday 13 February 2012 11.29am

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Timesheets

  Thanks for the evidence dickhead. I emailed that to Jennifer and i changed my password. I am making a formal complaint. Stay off my computer or I will punch you in the throat. I am serious. Are you going to get my stuff out from behind the desk?


  From: David Thorne

  Date: Monday 13 February 2012 11.41am

  To: Simon Dempsey

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Timesheets

  Dear Simon,

  I wish I had the time. Some of us have work to do and time sheets to complete. I have attached today’s should you wish to also email to Jennifer.

  Regards, David.



  Arrived at work. I feel it is important to set a good example for the other staff through promptness.


  Received a series of rather vicious emails from Simon, which began with accusations, insults, questions and demands, and degraded into actual threats of bodily harm. This was after I told him I had missed him while he was away. I find this unprovoked animosity disappointing and would have expected more from the employee of the month.


  Filled out these time sheets as it is part of the job and allows production to bill the client accordingly. Finding it difficult to concentrate on job priorities today due to the negative environment Simon has created, so will be leaving at lunch time.


  From: Simon Dempsey

  Date: Monday 13 February 2012 11.53am

  To: David Thorne

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Timesheets

  Good. I wont have to see your ugly head if you go early. Youre the one who will get in trouble dickhead.


  From: David Thorne

  Date: Monday 13 February 2012 12.09pm

  To: Simon Dempsey

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Timesheets

  Humming the theme from Space 1999 and other Christmas classics

  Forged almost entirely from thermoplastic polymers, this CD contains over 26 popular Christmas tracks such as the theme from that movie about the big boat and that other one about the two guys.


  Thanks for the xmas present dichead. Is this really the kind of thing you do in your spare time? You need to get a life. I listened to about 1 second of it and threw it in the bin. Don't send me your stupid shit and I expect the stuff about me on the website to be deleted. I spoke to a lawyer and he said I could sue you for defamation.

  Lucius Thaller, Courier

  What the fuck is this supposed to be? I played it in the car on the way to work and it is just you humming. I put up with it for about 10 seconds and skipped to the next track and it is just more humming. The whole thing is you humming.

  Simon Dempsey, Horse whisperer

  Not interested in your rubbish. Next time you think "I will send Peter something stupid" just dont.

  Peter Williams, Real Estate Agent

  I got your CD in the post today. Is this really a whole CD of you humming? None of the songs on it are even Christmas songs apart from track 4 the one about the tree and I can hear you making a coffee and stirring it. Is this really my xmas present?

  Mellissa Peters, Receptionist

  How is the Neighbours theme a christmas song? And you called it "A song about people by that guy". Worst cd I have ever heard.

  Jason Lowe, Magazine Editor

  Thanks for the CD. Just thought you might like to know that you can hear a dog barking outside on the track called That exciting bit in Excalibur.

  Jennifer Haines, Human Resources Officer

  Davey. This disk of you humming is a joke? Nobody will buy a cd of someone humming.
You are not even humming christmas songs. You should buy a guitar and I will teach you how to play.

  Jon de Peinder, Designer

  Man that is just sad. I lol'd and then I put it on and listened to it and I was embarrassed for you. Did you seriously sit there and hum the whole thing? I was pushing the next button every time you started humming. I don't even want it in the house in case someone accidentally plays it again.

  Mark Pearcy, Designer

  Hi, I got your cd in the post today. If this is really my present I hope you are not expecting anything good from me this year.

  1. It is just humming.

  2. The cover photo and track titles are just tragic.

  3. It says Christmas but there are no christmas songs.

  4. The back titles just say "that song from that thing" etc.

  5. You can hear you washing dishes and stuff.

  Jenny Leavesly, Photographer

  Wow. More proof that you really are a complete dickhead. A whole cd of you humming? I hope you sank a lot of money into this and starve to death.

  Robert Schaefer, Managing Director

  Received your christmas present. You should definately get some kind of professional help. How much did this cost you to make?

  Mike Campbell, Art Director

  Merry Christmas to you too and thanks for the music cd. One of the guys came in to see what I listening to and he said it sounded like you were one of those kids with down syndrome.

  Jaimie Holding, Copy writer

  Thanks for the worst cd ever created in the history of cds. I would rather listen to monkeys screaming.

  Brian Mitchell, Accountant

  How long did it take you to do this? This is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about. If you took as much time filling in your time sheets as fucking about you would get along fine. Did you do this during work hours? Is that you humming on the disk? You sound like an idiot.

  Kevin Eastwood, Account Rep

  World's worst Christmas album. Ever.

  Andrew Whittaker, Programmer

  Could only listen to about 10 seconds of each song before I began to twitch.

  Gina Caretti, Production Manager

  Hi. I got your package this morning. Pretty terrible. On track 4 you can hear you doing things in the sink. It sounds like you are washing dishes or something. On track 2 you can hear a dog barking in the background and there is lots of stuff in the other tracks. I can hear you lighting a cigarette in one of them. If you set out to make the lamest CD ever you have done a pretty good job.

  Jodie Williams, Graphic Designer

  Bill tries to buy cheese Part 2

  Ten reasons I probably shouldn’t be alive: the humps & bumps

  I watched a show on television recently called I Shouldn’t Be Alive in which they feature people who, due to things that happened to them, apparently shouldn’t be alive. In the episode I watched, some guy was walking along a creek bed and a big rock fell on his leg, trapping him with one foot sticking out. A huge crayfish that lived in the creek crawled out towards him and the guy didn’t have a stick or anything in reach to shoo it off with so he had to watch it eat his foot. I would rather the rock had fallen on my head.

  While I have never had a crayfish eat my foot, I have been on fire, stabbed, lost, almost drowned, crushed and trapped, so here are my own ten reasons why I probably shouldn’t be alive. This article was originally quite long and I thought people might email me saying “tl;dnr” so I broke it up into seperate segments and moved them randomly around the book. This was quite annoying as I was pretty much over it by then and it messed with the formatting of other articles so I hope you appreciate the effort and refrain from emailing me asking, “Why didn’t you just put all ten reasons you probably shouldn’t be alive in one article?”

  During my last two years of primary school, my family moved from a large city in Western Australia, to a small country town called Leigh Creek, a coal mining town in South Australia, after my father accepted a two year position as a Terex driver. The only two things that were cool about Leigh Creek were the Terex trucks, vehicles the size of buildings, and the fact that almost every kid in town owned a mini-bike.

  Every afternoon after school and every weekend, kids would wheel their mini-bikes to the edge of town and ride to a location called The Humps & Bumps. It was basically just a series of piles of dirt and quarry k-cuts left over from mining, spanning about a three kilometre radius a few kilometres out of town, but to kids with nothing else to do in a small town, and to those that owned mini-bikes, it was paradise. I did not own a mini-bike and not owning a mini-bike meant exclusion from what was essentially the key to making friends and being accepted in a new town.

  The model I coveted was the Yamaha YZ80. Featuring a two stroke engine, knobbly tyres, big suspension for jumps, and a top speed of 55 miles per hour which was practically light speed, it was the mini-bike of all mini-bikes and ownership would instantly grant me acceptance by the Humps & Bumps community.

  Convincing my parents to buy me a mini-bike was a lot easier than I thought it would be, possibly due to them feeling guilty about taking me away from my previous school and established friends and moving to a small town, but more likely due to wanting me to shut up about being the only kid in town who didn’t own a mini-bike. Eventually, it was conceded that I might get one for my upcoming birthday.

  The two weeks leading up to my birthday weekend could not go by fast enough. It was the early eighties and there were no computers, and I had nobody to hang around with as everyone was at the Humps & Bumps, so every afternoon after school I would climb into bed and try to go to sleep to make the time go faster. I even attempted knocking myself out once by sitting on the edge of the bed and throwing a brick into the air, but this only gained me a mild concussion and frozen bag of peas.

  On the Saturday morning of my birthday, I leapt out of bed, woke my parents and asked “where’s my motorbike?” Told that it was in the backyard, I ran outside in my pajamas to discover my parents had bought me a second hand 50cc Honda postman’s scooter.

  The stickers that read Australia Post had been peeled off but due to the rest of the paint fading, they were still clearly visible. The front half of the scooter was white, the back half red, and my father had painted DAVID across the back of the huge seat.

  I turned to see my parents, wearing dressing gowns and faces of anxious expectancy, standing behind me and my mother stated “ Happy birthday. I know it’s not a Yamaha like you wanted, but we talked to Mr Williams from number 36 and he said that Honda make very good motorbikes. It used to be a postie’s bike so it has to be reliable. Posties need reliable bikes.”

  Although every molecule of my being wanted to yell “what the fuck is this, I can’t be seen on it, the other kids will laugh at me,” the look on their faces made me force what I hoped was a believable smile, but was probably more of grimace below two sad eyes, and say “thank you.”

  Beaming, my father said “It’s got your name on the seat and you have another present to go with it,” handing me a motorcycle hemlet shaped present.

  Ripping off the paper, which featured a repeated illustration of a guy riding a motorbike that wasn’t lame, revealed a construction worker’s helmet, probably taken from my fathers worksite, spray-painted black with a skull and crossbones emblazoned across the front. “I painted it myself” my father said, which I had already figured out due to the skull having a smile instead of an angry teethy thing.

  After being told “you can take it out for a ride after you get dressed and have breakfast,” I spent an hour dressing and another hour eating froot-loops by eating each Froot-Loop in the bowl indivually and chewing thirty times but eventually the time came to get it over with.

  Wheeling the scooter down the sidewalk, wearing the construction worker’s helmet and appropriate motorbike attire (shorts, a Battlestar Gallactica t-shirt and sandals), I arrived at the edge of town, started the scooter, and rode off towards an area as far away fr
om the Humps & Bumps as possible.

  As I rounded a huge mound of dirt I had intended to hide behind for a while, my heart sank as I saw four kids on mini-bikes riding towards me. Turning the bike around, I attempted to race away from them as quickly as possible, with the thought that my face still hadn’t been seen, but with a top speed just under a brisk jog, they caught up to me almost immediately.

  Pulling to a stop and as casually as possible saying “Hey,” one of the kids, who I recognised as a boy named Ashley from school, asked “Are you delivering the mail?” and the other kids laughed. “No,” I replied. Which with hindsight was a little lame and if I could go back I would have said something like “Yes, and I have a letter from your mother. She says she is sorry for giving you a girl’s name” or something far better. Another of the kids then stated, “That’s a postie’s bike. I can see where the stickers were. Is it yours?” and I replied, “No.”

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