I got home a bit early yesterday and my mom says "Oh! You're home already?"
Me: Yes, and I am alive.
Mom: Why wouldn't you be alive?
Me: Because I almost got murdered. I would have totally been on one of those goofy shows you like to watch, maybe even Nancy Grace!
Mom: What are you talking about?!?!?!
It all started at work. The day was as uneventful as usual (work-wise anyway) and consisted of my boss letting one of the contractors on my team (we'll refer to him as Troll, because if you took his shirt off and stuck a gigantic rhinestone in his beer gut, he'd totally look like a treasure troll) know that his contract was not going to be extended. Because my boss is such an awesome guy, he was nice enough to give Troll 2 weeks notice.
Now let me give you a little background on Troll. Not only is he scary to look at, he's the most ridiculously enthusiastic person you will ever meet. He will say "HELLO!!" (with his eyes opened wider than should be possible and a psychotic grin on his face) to you and wave every single time he sees you. NO ONE is this fucking happy. NO ONE. It's not natural, which leads me to the conclusion that he is, at the very least, moderately psychotic. This would also be a good time to mention that he has a spiderweb tattooed on his elbow... For those of you that don't know what that means, it typically signifies that the wearer has done hard time in the slammer or is a gang member, or has done time in the slammer for being a gang member. Now, I don't think any man who wears smaller shoes than I do has done hard time, or has been in a gang (D&D circles do NOT qualify as gangs), which means he is a poser. So what's worse? Having been in jail or a gang or wanting everyone to think that?
So today, he disappears around 3:30. Which means he had to have been in the office at 7:30, which is highly unlikely. I go out to my car around 5:20 to get something and I see his gay ass PT Cruiser pull up (by the way, chrome trim on a PT Cruiser is gay enough, but spray painted matte black rims takes it to a whole new level of douchebaggery). He gets out, looking more than moderately psychotic and he is carrying a bag. I begin to get a little freaked out. What is he doing back so late? Does he have a semi-automatic weapon in the bag? Was he really a gang member?? I was imagining sitting at my desk - well, laying slumped over on the keyboard - with my brains spattered across the screen of my laptop.
I happened to be on the phone with Hot Bald Guy at the time and alerted him to the situation. I advised that if he heard screaming, gunshots or scuffling, to call the police immediately. He seemed pretty unimpressed. I grabbed my pocket knife from the car (as if that would save me from the machine gun or uzi that he was no doubt wielding) When I walked back into the office, I held back a coworker who was leaving. He also seemed unimpressed. No one realized the seriousness of my situation. The imminent danger I was in. I hurried to my desk and grabbed my laptop as quickly as possible.
Once I got safely to my car, I called my boss, who indirectly confirmed my suspicions. It seems that Troll called his desk phone to let him know he needed some info about a paycheck he was waiting to receive. He disguised his obviously murderous trip back to the office as a need to get some info about his paycheck. Oh, yeah, mullet-boy? Then why did you carry a rather large bag back into the office? I'm on to you, you psychotic murderer. Thank goodness I have ninja-like instincts.
You call it paranoia, I call it superior intuition.