Sorry ma man

This time, he bumped into me at one of my other colleague’s office. He pitched a comic line my way, as usual, and I reimbursed the gesture with what I believe is wit at best. The triangle cracked. The business was folded. We stepped out.

Heading towards my workstation, I applaud him on his fresh endeavour. He laughs at the mothering tone, with a smile portraying approval and appreciation.

I have only been in for less than an hour, but you could not tell. My desk is untidy; had it not been for his death, Osama bin Laden would have appeared from this mess.

We see The Star newspaper. Immediately, he heads for The Workplace. Flip! Flip! He asked what I did last night. Tap! Tap! He is in the know. Flip! He cracks a joke regarding his body shape. Tap! Witty, I cracked.

He cracked another. My mouth widens.

Wait! He affronted her to me, in the presence of another woman. To himself he is funnier. The subject is a friend of mine. I take offence. Mothering scolds in the know. To him I am being funny, his mouth widened.

Had I continued to sit on that desk, I would have lost all respect. Had I left my desk he would not have understood his blunder. I grabbed my newspaper as a whip. He saw the blaze in my eyes. I disappeared.

Emerging back from near, I saw his firm behind flouncing the opposite way. He must have heard my silent reprimand. I sat at mine.

Sorry ma man, he sent me an email. I forgave him, yet my vocals had to be active, just for control and in case he decides to hit on her weight again.

Happy read!