Apple Cores And ESD Shoes

Shitfoot is a pretty fuckin’ funny dude. I really like working with him.

Nobody around here thinks much of Greasy Guy. I particularly dislike him and I’m vocal about it. I try to be up front about that though so instead of just talking shit behind Greasy Guy’s back I choose to beat him down in person, to his face. At first I had hoped ripping him up all the time might actually help motivate him to get his act in order but as time passed that hope faded from view.

If there was one person here who can’t stand Greasy Guy even more than I do, it would have to be Shitfoot. I don’t know why. Maybe they had a brawl of some kind or other that I am unaware of. Perhaps it’s simply a clash of personalities. Anyway, the past few nights at work Shitfoot and I have been hanging out in my cubicle eating our lunches. Shitfoot usually eats an apple or two with each lunchtime meal. When he’s finished with each apple and there’s nothing left but a mangy core instead of tossing them into the trash can he’s been jamming them up into the toe of Greasy Guy’s ESD shoes. Fucking cracks me up. By the time Greasy Guy returns from Malaysia those apple cores will have become thriving communities of insects.

I will be blamed for it, of course.

Talking one evening about Shitfoot’s propensity for clever, malicious practical jokes, he told me a story about a guy he used to work with at a diesel repair company. Someone made Shitfoot so angry that he found a dead mouse and placed it in the hood of this person’s sweatshirt. I guess he wore the same sweatshirt every day and never washed it. After a time that dead mouse he was carrying around with him began to stink badly. Everybody in the shop thought that guy never bathed or something. Hilarious.

I need to remember to always stay on Shitfoot’s good side.

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~ by factorypeasant on August 10, 2006.

2 Responses to “Apple Cores And ESD Shoes”

  1. Once, while working in an auto parts store in Mill Valley, another guy and myself took it upon ourselves to sneak a small tray of fish under the seat of the battery guy’s truck while he was in back swapping out our batteries.
    It was the middle of summer, very hot, and Friday. So, when Brian (the battery guy) got back in his truck and drove off, he didn’t notice anything. But after that truck baked all weekend in the broiling sun, he sure noticed come Monday morning. We had even sliced the plastic a few times to make sure the deadly vapors could escape properly.
    He somehow knew it was us. Ironically, he was a really nice guy. Seriously, we had no beef with him of any kind he was always totally cool to us.

  2. nice work.

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