DUMP-DEE-DUMP-DEE-DUMP


the room was silent except for the occassional whirring from the machines. the wastepaper basket overflowed wif the excessive garbage thrown. footsteps (again!) could be heard approaching the figure hidden behind the mountainous white facade of papers. in the midst of all dat choatic mess, sits a haggard looking...ME!


given time (and if i do not clear dis 'shit' multiplying on my desk soon!), you'll need a human detector to rescue me. i'm serious. provided my managers suddenly had 'heart transplants' and pity poor ol' me, i might be able to find my own way out. it's either they have mistaken my desk as: (a) a dumping ground, (b) a dumping ground and (c) a dumping ground. oh yeah, and i might as well be OSCAR THE GROUCH. wat a perfect scenario, minus the pesky flies dat is.