Hate Rays

The Company dropped a salescreep into the cube across from me for the rest of the month, who's yammering on the phone like a chimp who's learned to schmooze. He doesn't know it, but I'm showering him with hate rays from the moment I see him in the morning until twenty minutes after he's gone. His every word drips with slime.

It's only a few more days, but he just called someone "Hannah Banana," and I think I'm going to throw a chair through a window.

Rob