i wrote a series of dialogues with a fictional co-worker named Mona. just little things to entertain myself. this is the first. they are real stories of me and other co-workers, but with her instead. i’m touching them up because i like them. not all names were changed, screw the innocent

“I quit.”

“Quit what exactly?”

“All of it.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Well. This job for one. And trying.”


“Yes. Effort. I fucking quit effort.”

“Just altogether?”

“Yup. From now on basic functions only. And even they can kiss my ass.”

“So eating and sleeping only.”

“Yeah. And I have insomnia. And a natural lazy streak so eating may get left behind.”

“So glorified carbon dioxide producer is your new title.”

“And I would fucking quit that as well if I could. None of it is worth it any more. It is all so pointless.”


“I’m serious.”

“I’m sure.”

“Don’t get that tone with me!”

“What tone?”

“That one. That one right there.”

“This tone?”

“That god damned tone.”

“I can’t help it. It is my bullshit tone.”

“You’ll see when I fucking walk right out of here.”

“I will.”

“Yes you will. Maybe after lunch.”


She just stood there staring at me. Mona, my best friend over the last couple years, had heard this before. All of it. She was used to my tirades against just about everything. Last week it was driving in Dallas.

“I’m getting a bazooka!”

“A bazooka?”

“Damn right. And a couple crates of ammo.”

“Crates of it.”

“Might need a truck as well to haul it.”

“Sounds expensive.”

“My time is far more valuable. If these idiots cannot figure out how to drive I will take care of the situation myself.”

“With a bazooka.”

“Like mother fucking Rambo. Just blowing shit up all day. Six thirty five will look like Mad Max when I am finished.”

“And you can get one?”

“Sure. Dark web.”

“The dark web. You are going to log in to the dark web and buy a bazooka and crates of ammo.”

“Yup. Log in to Tor and get that shit lickety split. You can get anything there. Heroin, child brides, torture porn.”

“And bazookas.”


I don’t know why she deals with me. Honestly. I am a hot mess. Slowly over time she has removed activities from our together list. Like fast food.

“I am going to burn that fucking place to the ground.”

“What happened?”

“I said no tomatoes. What is this?”

“Looks like a tomato.”

“I said no tomatoes. The screen said no tomatoes. I reiterated it.”

“No tomatoes.”

“And what the fuck did I get?”


“I’m gonna burn it down. Those assholes are laughing at me. Looks like extra tomatoes.”

“That is a lot of tomatoes.”

“Don’t fucking push me here. I can clearly see the tomatoes. The unmitigated gall of those bastards.”

“You can just take them off you know.”

“But they leave that slime and seeds. It is tainted. Fucking tainted! I am going to get a couple of gas cans and take care of this shit.”

“Sounds like the appropriate response.”


I have issues. I know this. It doesn’t take much to set me off on a rant. But good old Mona always listens and talks me off the edge. I hardly go through with it.

Though I did price bazookas. Shits expensive. Not the actual bazooka but the ammo. I couldn’t justify the expense. But I bookmarked it. Just in case. God help me if I ever win the lottery.

“Why haven’t we ever, you know?”

“Ever what?”

“You know.”

“Use your words.”

“Gone out on a date.”

“I’m gay and you’re crazy.”

“Well yeah. But besides that.”

“You have a penis and I find them repulsive?”

“Besides that.”

“It is a pretty big obstacle to overcome.”

“Yeah it is. Wink.”

“Go back to work.”

We started together on the same day. Went through training together. She was shy and quiet. I am me. So it took the first couple rounds of firings before we realized we were all we had here. A friendship blossomed.

And she thinks it is funny when I get all riled up. Sometimes she does it on purpose.

“Hey Mike, did you see what the president said last night?”

“That fucking idiot is gonna get us caught in armageddon.”

“His button is bigger and it works.”

“Not without Cialis and a midget fisting him. He wears slip on shoes because the act of tying laces is beyond him. He is the dumbest person on the fucking planet.”

“But he is a successful business man.”

“If he would have stayed home finger painting with his own shit and sat on that inheritance he would be worth more today. He has failed at everything he has tried and blamed someone else.”

“His book says different.”

“That illiterate cock waggle couldn’t write his own name. Have you seen his signature? Bunch of fucking loops. He wrote a book and I am Elvis.”

“Hail to the King.”

“Hunk a hunk a burning dog shit.”

She is as much of an asshole as I am. She is just undercover about it. Sneaky. Like when she replaced the coffee with decaf for a week straight. Or how she replaces the toilet rolls in the bath room with cardboard tubes every taco Tuesday afternoon.

She prints up fake missing pet posters and tapes them up around the city with our boss’s phone number attached.

But when I need her she is always there to listen.

“She left me last night.”

“Oh no. What happened?”

“I caught her talking to another guy. Texting him while I gave her a foot massage.”



“And what did you say? How did you find out?”

“She got up to pee and left her phone. It went off like crazy and I saw it light up and say Brad.”

“Who’s Brad?”

“That is what I asked. She said a guy from work. I asked what they were talking about. She said work stuff.”


“As she was lying it went off again. It was a pic.”

“A pic.”

“A dick pic.”


“And what?”

“The pic.”

“Uncircumcised. Looked like a hot dog in a turtle neck.”


“Right. She grabbed her shit and bailed. Probably peeling that banana right now.”


“Yeah. I thought she was the one. I really did.”

“I’m sorry.”

That night someone slashed my ex’s tires. She called trying to blame me. But it was a Wednesday. And no sort of revenge is going to make me miss Mr Robot. Airtight alibi. She knew I would turn down sex for Angela and the gang. When I got to work I asked Mona if she knew anything about it. She set a knife on my desk with a bow on it.

You cannot ask for a better gift. Or friend. I love her. Not love love but friend love. And I would do anything for her.

“What’s up M2?”


“Don’t fucking lie to me. What’s wrong?”

“A lump.”

“A lump? Ned in accounting?”

“Different lump.”

“Ted in accounting?”


“Then what?”

“On my right breast.”

“Oh. That kind of lump.”


“It is nothing to worry about. Probably just a clogged milk duct.”

“A clogged milk duct? I’m not pregnant.”

“But you have been awfully close to me today. I am fertile as shit.”

“You don’t have any kids. And it doesn’t work that way.”

“It doesn’t? Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Fuck. I thought it did.”


“You’re sure?”

“Relatively sure.”

“I’ll have to trust you. What did the doctor say?”

“They need to do a biopsy.”

“And what can I do? Need me to fondle them? I am an expert fondler. Got a degree in it.”

“A degree in tit fondling?”

“Yep. From Harvard.”

“An ivy league degree in tit fondling from Harvard?”

“I also found the clit once.”


“Accidentally. But it counts.”

“I don’t think it does.”

“I’m counting it.”

“I’m sure.”

I went with her to the doctor. Held her hand in the waiting room. Offered to go in with her but she was pretty sure I was just looking to see boobies. The next week was hell. She was in edge and my ramblings couldn’t even bring her out of her funk. When the doctor called she had me take it.

“Domino’s Pizza”

“Excuse me?”

“Mona’s phone. Sorry. Forgot which one I picked up.”

“This is her doctor calling with the results.”

“She asked me to hear it.”

“The test came back negative.”

“Oh no. Can we get a second opinion?”

“Negative is good. It is non-cancerous.”

“Oh God. How long?”

“I’m sorry?”

“How long does she have?”

“She is young and in great shape. A long time.”

“Oh no. What can we do?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Uh huh.”

“Sir, can you put Mona on the phone please?”

“Invasive? What does that mean?”

“I’m hanging up now. Please have Mona call us.”

“Robot? Hacksaw? That sounds horrific. Ever post the video on the dark web? I know a site. Will pay big bucks for something like that. And the growth. There are fetishists out there that would kill for that.”

“Good bye.”

“I tried to order a bazooka once. My card got declined. No it was a badass bazooka. They get you with the ammo though. Yeah. Rockets ain’t cheap. Sure. I can forward you the address. Traffic around here, am I right? I’ll tell her. Thank you.”

We went out and got shitty drunk that night to celebrate. After she stopped crying and throwing stuff at me that is. I announced to the bar that I laid hands on her breasts and healed her. Offered anyone else in the bar the same service. No one took me up on it. Their loss. I will keep my super powers to myself. No risk of testicular cancer, that’s for sure.

Mona hugged me and told me she loves me. Not love love. I understood though. It was probably the tequila talking. Best friends. What are you gonna do?

4 thoughts on “Mona

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