I want a fat office tabby. The kind of tabby so fat it can’t open its eyes. The kind of tabby that never moves except to stick out its obese paw to trip you.
My boss told us he’s highly allergic but does he mean stuffy nose or crippling hives? I discussed this with my four non-boss co-workers at Festivus, our weekly lunch meeting. We recently added a loft to our loft (think of those Russian dolls you look inside to find surprise! another doll) and have a budget of $5000 to pimp it out. I proposed red shag carpet, a retractable movie screen, a zen garden, and a fat tabby. The fat tabby won’t do much except stare down teacher candidates during interviews and *maybe* pull the lever to the concealed trap door that opens to cut these interviews short. Josh said it should be a button ’cause that’s less work for fat tabby. Probably.
We decided to name fat tabby Human Resources.
Soon it came about that Human Resources is so fat because he never gets to relieve himself. This all happened really fast. I had initially envisioned some sort of litter box but yeah, no box makes more sense, because fat tabby is fat DISGRUNTLED tabby. He meows and we hear cat noise but really he’s saying “Hey fuckers, give me the bathroom key” or “one day I’m gonna get up and pry open this 9th story window and bum a ride off that moving scaffolding.”
Here are the various office sketches of Human Resources. They are presented in no particular order except best-worst.