Short Story
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                 I Didn't Mean to Kill Them All!
By Rose Titus

  I didn't mean to kill them all.  Even though they all deserved it!  Oh well.  I
really don't care.  And I really don't feel that bad about it.  It was an awful
mess, though.  Seeing them all go into violent convulsions, vomiting up blood
and stuff.  At least it's good that they're dead now, so they can't force me to
clean up their mess, like they always did.  Let the forensics people clean it
up.  I'm sick of cleaning up after those lazy, self-important overpaid idiots.

  Really, I only meant to make them all get sick.  And then they would get
better.  It was meant to be a joke or maybe to teach them a lesson or
something.  I got sick of putting up with their shit, that's all.  I mean, they were
all really terrible to me, because I would never say anything back.  Then I had
it.  I just finally had it.  After years of putting up with their stupid shit, I was
going to get them all back.  And now they're all dead!  No, I am not making
any of this stuff up.  Go ahead.  Don't believe me?  I don't care.

  So you read in the newspaper that they found everyone in an office blown
up and dead?  That's right.  Hey, don't bother telling the cops.  I'll admit to
nothing!  Besides, we're both pretty well drunk right now, so no one will
believe you anyway.

  So, this is how it all began...  I am, or was the only secretary in the office.  
And the company was owned by these stupid rich bastards who never worked
a day in their lives.  I mean, they never did real work.  Sitting at a desk
ordering other people around is not work, in my opinion.  All they ever did
was order people, like me, around all day, lie to clients about how good their
company was, fire innocent people for the mistakes they made themselves,
and make my life in general a living hell.

  It's not like they were self-made people, either.  These jerks were from rich
families who sent them to exclusive prep schools, then straight to the MBA
program.  They never had to pay their way for anything, or work their way
through school, like I did.  They never had to wait on tables, or clean toilets,
or wash cars, so they could finally have a cleaner job with so-called benefits.

  Benefits, hah.  That's a laugh.  And the pay...

  And I used to at least have friends at the company, but so many clients left
after being cheated, they lost profit, and laid off a lot of people because of
their stupid mistakes.  Then the assholes dumped all the extra work on me.

  It had been building up for years.  I had always tried so hard, maybe too
hard, to be professional at all times, hoping to be promoted, or at least get a
decent raise.  I never talked back, I went above and beyond to do my work
well.  It went this way for years, and I got nowhere.  Nowhere!

  They never even told me I did a good job, or thanked me.

  The VP Sales was a pervert.  He kept bumping into women in the hallway,
pretending he was just clumsy.  He would rub against you, say he tripped.  I
told him to knock it off, keep his hands off me one day.  That night, my tires
were slashed.  I knew it was him, but had no proof.  And he's dead now!

  The CEO was an idiot.  Really.  I don't know how this fool ever got his MBA.  
He could not spell or write properly.  You would type his correspondence,
correct all his spelling and grammar and stuff.  Then he would insist that his
spelling was correct and make you retype it his way.  Then someone would
notice and point it out to him.  He would then say, “My secretary, gentlemen,
is rather poorly educated.  I do not know why we continue to keep that girl.”  I
would try to help that guy not to look like an idiot, and he would continue to
look like an idiot, and blame me.

  He's dead too!

  The Marketing Analyst was a little bitch with obvious implants and a
superior attitude.  She came from a rich family from New York.  She brought
out all her files for me to alphabetize.  Okay, fine.  I'll take care of it.  She
goes like this, “You do know the alphabet, right?”  I was shocked.  What?  I
have an Associates Degree.  I am not stupid.  Give me those files.  So she
gets pissed, “I just have to make sure you are capable.  Let me hear to recite
the alphabet!”  She smiled, as if we were friends.  I recited it.  She looked
surprised.  She then smiled and said, “I just wanted to be sure you would feel
comfortable with this!”

  The bitch is dead.  

  This new kid they hired, he had an MBA too.  He was a little shit.  He would
steal my lunch right off my desk and eat it right in front of me!  I would yell at
him to give back my lunch.  Then he would eat it fast and throw the wrappers
and paper bag on the floor for me to clean up.  I would tell him to clean it up
himself.  The CEO would stomp out and shout at me for talking back to this
jerk.  Made me wonder if they were both secretly gay and having an affair,
the way he treated this guy so special.  He got a $10,000 raise and promotion
the first month he was hired, even though he was incompetent.

  I was there seven years, didn't get anything but grief.

  One rotten day they brought in another poor client to steal from and lie to
and they had a meeting.  There was a terrible ice storm that day, so they
made me go get the lunch from the deli for the meeting.  I slipped on the ice
in the parking lot and cut up my knee.  Then I got the food in the car and tried
to drive back without getting killed.  A truck missed me by an inch.  Like it was
dangerous out there, so of course they sent me.

  After the meeting, they ordered me to clean up the conference room.  I told
them they made the mess, they could at least clean it up themselves like
adults.  I was insubordinate and got a written warning.  So that's when I had
enough of their shit!

  It was always my job to make the coffee every morning.  One day, I
happened to notice that old coffee grounds from the coffee machine looked
something kind of like the crap from my tom cat's filthy old litter box.  I mean,
they made me work so much forced overtime, I never had any time at home to
clean up my own place.

  The litter box had not been cleaned out since maybe...  I don't know, six
years?  It smelled amazing, totally amazing.  Like some kind of evil science
experiment to grow biological weaponry for the CIA.  That's just what it
smelled like.

  So I wrapped a scarf over my face to protect my nose from fumes and I put
on plastic gloves and finally cleaned the litter box out.  Little Killer was so
happy to finally have a clean litter box!  But I kept the stuff in a plastic trash
bag, and brought it to work the next day.  That's what I made coffee with!  
That morning everyone just suddenly had a bad reaction to the coffee.

  It was hilarious!  I couldn't stop laughing.  I sat at my desk, laughing so
hard, I almost fell right off my chair.  It was so good!

  The VP Sales, he sipped his coffee, leered at me, choked, then I swear —
his eyes literally popped out.  They landed on the carpet, blood ran
everywhere.  It was so cool.  The CEO began to experience this truly
wonderful projectile vomiting.  It was all black, and it went all over his
elegantly furnished office.  The bitch, now what happened to her was real
funny.  Silicone started oozing from her implants, it ruined her $1,500
designer dress from Neiman Marcus.  She fell over and spilled the coffee on
herself, and when it mixed with the oozing silicone, the chemical mixture
began to smoke.  I grabbed my purse and walked out of there, because I
figured she would explode or something.  On my way out, I saw the bastard
who was having an affair with the CEO coming around the corner, demanding
to know what the hell cheap brand of coffee I was using.  Then he made this
gagging noise, his mouth hung open, all kinds of polluting fumes started
spewing out, smoking up the ceiling.

  The air in the office began to turn black because of the fumes smoking out
of the fallen bodies.  Behind me, I heard the explosion.  It was the bitch on
fire.  I had to get out of there quick.  I jumped over the MBA's dead body and
went for the door.

  That was about a week ago.  I'm looking for a new job.  I hope I can find a
nice office where they will treat me better, and pay me better, and not blame
me for their own mistakes, or make me clean up after them, or talk down to
me like I was dumb because I'm the secretary and they're an MBA, and just
let me eat my damn lunch in peace...  They better not ask me to make the
coffee, though.

(This story is meant for humor, and not meant to encourage any
similar actions or sabotage in the workplace.)
About Rose Titus

Rose Titus works two
jobs to support her
writing habit.  She
exists somewhere in a
suburb in cold, dreary
New England, with
three pain in the arse
cats and a very out of
date Macintosh.  She
also has a restored
classic Buick that gets
her to the grocery

Her work has
previously appeared
in Lost Worlds, Lynx
Eye, Bog Gob,
Mausoleum, Midnight
Times, Blood Moon
Rising, The Bugle,
Weird Terrain,
Descend, and Wicked