After a long day of being flooded with work, Shelby’s head popped out of the waters like a mountaintop. The sea of work was being drained away, since it was already 6pm and it was time to go home. Emerging from the sea foams of forms she discovered that her hand and turned into a wooden block.

She could not be concerned with this right now, because she had to be on her way to her daughter’s piano recital.  Swamped by post-its knee deep that leeched onto her DKNY pant suit, filled with passwords she could never remember, short cuts to programs, and “MUST DO” memos, could not stop her from seeing her little girl play the piano.
Shelby sloshed through the quicksands of her managers, Mr. Brash, unending demands that kept pulling her back into the abysmal dark Congo that was work. But she was determined to make it past the corporate boogie-traps, get to her car and make to the recital on time. Because no amount of guilt or deadlines that keep getting stacked up on one another could compare to the possible disappointment she would see in her daughters big blue eyes if mommy missed yet another performance because of work.
She couldn’t bare hearing: “It’s ok, Mommy, work is important too…”
Not this time.
She was prepared to face the tidal wave of setbacks and machines suddenly jamming up and people generally messing up and needed her help because they’re a bunch of incompetent buffoons, ahead of her. Right when she turned off her PC, and brushed off the post it notes off her suit, Janet came by her workspace.
“You think you have a minute to help me with this? It’ll only take a sec…”
Shelby picked up her wooden- block hand and bashed Janet’s head in. “No” Shelby whispered and crossed over Janet’s collapsed body, making sure she didn’t step into any spilt blood and ruin her shoes. She soon turned the corner and would be entering what she called the “cubie-trap.” It was a danger zone.  If she could make it through this part unscathed, she would home free. Shelby walked the path slowly and steadily. Slithering through silently tiring to go unnoticed, when she heard the beeps, clicks and chirps of the fax machine.
“Why wont this thing work,” she head Frank shout and bang the side of the machine. Frank couldn’t work the fax machine if his family was taken hostage by the Russian mafia and all he had to do was Fax them a piece of paper…His family would get it, execution style. Frank was just that dumb. And by some sort of black magic every time he worked the fax Shelby would always be there and he would call her his “guardian angel” in that insufferable tone of his. Frank turned around and immediately, Shelby stood frozen in her tracks. Though her stance was a little awkward, she knew how to hold it because of that one yoga class she took once but couldn’t continue the session because of work…Besides being dumb, Frank didn’t have depth perception and so when things stood absolutely still he would mistake them as being apart of his environ. After a few moments of vigorous head scratching, Frank stepped away from the fax machine and went to look for someone who could help him.
Once he was completely out of sight, Shelby let out a sigh of relief and continued on her way through. She hastened her pace a bit, her heels clicking softly on the office carpet. She was able to pass Shelia who watched you-tube all day, that never did any work, and thus it was dumped on Shelby’s desk to do and finish, successfully.  There was one more trap she had to pass before she was in the clear and that was Mike the Sexual harassment monkey. He would swing from cubicle to cubicle making inappropriate jokes with all the female employees. Mike thought that a woman who chose to work was a Feminist and Feminists were women who wanted to be treated like men rather than with respect. Shelby had thought about filing a complaint but she was always too busy to do so. That Balding Bastard. What was worse was Mike had an in with MR. Brash. They were golfing buddies. Every Sunday they were at the local country club.
“Hey there, where do you think you’re going pretty lady?”
Shelby cringed when she heard the voice. It was the Monkey. She slowly turned around and found him standing too close to her, as usual. She could smell his breath: coffee and tacos. He was eyeing her. Shelby felt it. He was also playing with his belt buckle. That was the last straw. Shelby wound up her arm, like she did when she played softball in college, let her wooden block hand loose and straight into the fuckers monkey brains. Mike gasped for air, grabbed his smashed coconuts and fell face forward to the ground.
Shelby let out a sigh of relief and didn’t realize how good it felt to do that. She decided she should sign up with a local team. But after her daughter’s recital, of course. She was finally in the clear and saw the exit doors to the office head of her. She pushed the tall glass doors and was about to reach the elevators when the receptionist, Becky, stopped her.
“Oh, Um, Mr. Brash, wants you fill out these reports before you leave tonight,” Becky said pulling out a stack of papers piled at least a mile high. Shelby considered smacking Becky upside the head like Janet. Not because of the late notice with the reports, but because one time she over heard Becky make fun of an outfit Shelby was particularly fond of and thought it made her look smart and stylish in.  But on second thought, taking into consideration the destruction Shelby had just left behind she decided to lower her hand-mallet and told Becky that it would have to wait. She was already late to a very important engagement.
Shelby walked towards the elevators again and just her luck one was already open waiting for her.
“But, what should I tell Mr. Brash?” Becky called out behind her.
Shelby stepped in and as the doors were closing said:
“Tell him to kiss my – “