The Sweet Release of Death

My Mel Gibson Meltdown

02/23/2010 07:49 AM Filed in:The Mental Giants

Some day’s just breeze by like greased lightning and if you work in an environment of toxicity like I do, the quicker they pass without major incident or discord, the better. Some days flow effortlessly and then a Mack truck of office chaos barrels down your happy little road of life and T-bones your perfect day with extreme prejudice. My Friday was the latter. Oh it was going smooth as the finest silk from Asia, and then it happened. The phone rang. 3:35 to be exact. Damn. I almost made it. On the line, was the Mack truck, revving up to lay waste to my perfect, incident-free-day. This Mack truck, a long time client of 8 years, was calling from out of country to check on a project status. I had found an error in a file and it was holding up the production. The error? The clients. Well, this project had been dragging on the past 7 months and had put Mr. Mack Truck on the express train to Stressville. Needless to say, he redlined and for the next 10 minutes I endured a barrage, no, a never ending loop of “ I haven’t had a day off in months and now you’re telling me I have to work, you’re charging me extra, I haven’t had a day off, Blah, blah, blah.” You know, just a complete shit-fit.

As the Mack Truck Shit-Fit rolled on, Mr. Bloodpressure showed up with his 2 cousins in tow, Zero Patience and his twin, Intolerance. Editors note: Cousin intolerance is bat-shit crazy of coarse and follows the “Scorched Earth”way of life. Nothing is spared with that man. Well, Mr. Bloodpressure was able to keep the twins at bay and keep himself from erupting like Pompeii and raining hot death down on the Mack truck. But the Good Ship Lollipop had taken some severe hits and when the conversation was over, and the phone laid down, something akin to an out-of-body experience had happened. Like a nuclear reaction, Mr. Bloodpressure gave way to his cousins and with the 3 combined; it set into motion The Conjuring of Mel. The next 2 minutes are a blur and like I said, it was like an out-of-body experience, so what follows is what I saw from above my body as I floated in the shaft of white light: I watched as I flipped the bird at the phone about 6 times with a couple of F-Bombs thrown in cause hey, everybody loves garnish with their rage.

My co-workers took my possession in stride (it’s happened before, Thanks Mel) with the torrent of F-bombs and the acidic replay of our phone conversation, I could see from above, a vein bulging in my head and neck, arms flailing with multiple middle-finger salutes at the phone again. Geesh... it was ugly. But wait, it gets worse. From my vantage point in my tube of white light above my Mel Gibson possessed body, I heard a mutter of “that sonofbitchinjewbastard” Oh thanks Mel! Fuck! What have you got me into? But hold on folks, that’s not the half of it. Oh no, not even close. Just as Mel, yeah you Mel, muttered that horrible phrase, why Mr. Production Manager had happened by and got a front row seat to this magical performance of my possession. Just then I heard a voice within the shaft of white light I had been floating in and it said: “deal with that Sugartits!” and then a diabolical laughter faded into nothing. Next thing I know, I’m back in my body and I have a Production Manager staring at me wide-eyed and speechless.

What happened? I asked. When I was told what had just happened and what I, no fuck that, what Mel had said, I felt nauseated. Dirty. Just downright lower than a snake. I apologized for Mel and piled the remains of what was left of a good Friday into a mental casket, lowered it into the ground and buried it. What of Mel? He’s in a trunk of a Lincoln Town Car somewhere in Jersey. Now if I can just find Michael Richards...

Tags: Mel Gibson, Mack Truck, Office, Rage, Perfect, Day