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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

“Usually we would frown upon people who engage in biochemical warfare and genocide. In Columbus’ case, we gave him his own holiday and threw him a parade. Go figure.”

(One.)

When Oscar comes to work at Dunder-Mifflin after years of aimless wandering from career to dead end career, the job is like a down comforter to wrap himself inside on cold nights… and then finding out it’s one of those small pox-infested ones the Europeans gave the Native Americans.



“Macbeth was never the same after that. Of course what were they expecting with all those kilts?”

(Two.)

Being outed at work is like being pantsed on stage in high school in front of the whole auditorium. And even if he might like the way he looks pants-less, even if he’s pretty proud of the progress he’s made on that stair master, it doesn’t make the experience any less humiliating.



“Also? You’d suck at playing chopsticks on the piano. And have no way to look sophisticated at tea parties.”

(Three.)

Trying to turn straight ends up being like attempting to shove his hands into a pair of four-fingered gloves. He might twist around until he groans in frustration – three dates with women (all of them crazy) results in one lobster, all buttery and sharp claws, ending up in his lap and a face-slap by a woman wearing brass rings. Because, as it turns out? Gay is it. Women are just too much drama.



“Upside? At least you don’t have deal with any of those side-effects they run through in an auction-speed voice at the ends of commercials. For all you know, there’s a possibility it’ll cause you to grow a second head. And I don’t care what they say; two heads are not better than one when little children run away screaming in horror.”

(Four.)

The finer things club is like a pill you take knowing there’s a 70% chance it’s a placebo, a sugar pill. That it probably isn’t making you any better at all. But the hope that it could be curing you makes you feel better than nothing at all.



“Ever wonder why they sterilize lethal injection needles? Who would have known that executioners are optimistic and ironic at the same time.”

(Five.)

Every day when he leaves the office, shuts down his computer and mumbles glass-half-empty goodbyes and slips on his coat, it’s like a stay of execution for a convict who knows it will be repealed. He’s left sitting there with an anticipatory sense of dread and most of the time he just wants someone to put him out of his misery. Oscar ignores the voice that reminds him it’s his own hand on the kill switch, and he could leave anytime he wants.

But there’s the rub. 
 

 

 

Chapter End Notes:
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bebitched is the author of 66 other stories.
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