Cigarette anyone?

Dear god lord jesus in heaven above, I am at work and I am sooooooo booooored. It was busy this morning, because a co-worker was out trying to stave off the Portland Authorities from towing his van. A) A van? and b) where the hell did he park it to incur the wrath of said Portland Authorities? I don't know, and I don't care. What I'd really like to do is shake him until his retinas detach and he can longer work here. "Gee what happened to so-and-so?" "His eyes fell out." Yeah, that's what I want. I'm sure he's a lovely fellow outside the workplace, but once he crosses the occupational thresh hold, he becomes giant imcompetant dipwad. That's right, dipwad. He came in this morning looking like he just got shot out of a cannon and landed in a peat bog. We discussed what was currently being worked on; not even 5 minutes later, he asks me something that related directly to the former convo. I look at him in amazement and awe, a sideshow freak holding me enrapt with his limbless body and cigarette rolling lips. A blank stare. A blank slate. A 90-year-old man in the last stages of alzheimer's. I came to the conclusion at that moment that he was trying to push me into having a psychotic break, but he's not doing it all at once. He's doing it slowly, day by day, minute by minute. And therein lies the genius of the plan. I will continue thwarting his scheme however, this van-driving, non-decision making, thrombosis-enducing maniac will not win this battle. No matter how many cigarettes he rolls.