Please Don’t Talk to Me Until I’ve Had My Coffee, My Anti-Depressants, My Cholesterol Medication, a Shot of Whiskey, a Breath Mint, and a Pound of Bacon

Ask anyone and they’ll tell you, I’m the office grump before I’ve had my coffee, my anti-depressants, my cholesterol medication, a shot of whiskey, a breath mint, and a pound of bacon. Fortunately, a mere moment later and I’m the friendliest guy in the office. A mere two moments later and I’m usually napping at my desk. But if you’re around for a mere six or seven moments later, you’re in luck, because that’s when I start handing out whatever’s in this unlabeled medication bottle.

Is my entire existence hanging on by a thread? How is it that my morning routine is simultaneously killing me while also helping me barely cling to dear life? Am I aware that I put my socks on over my shoes? Please, no questions yet. I’m only halfway through this pound of bacon.

People sometimes ask, isn’t that too much bacon? My answer is always no. That’s what the cholesterol medication is for and I don’t keep leftovers because the packages get really gross and slimy. Other people sometimes ask, are you eating raw bacon? And my answer is always yes. I was told I had to stop cooking bacon at my desk because it smells and the office’s insurance won’t cover any more grease fires. So please, leave me be while I attempt to slurp down these few remaining bacon strips.

I suppose I should stop advertising that I’m drinking whiskey at work, but people tend to assume I’m joking. In fact, if you’re moody enough, they assume everything is sarcasm. I hate football. I can’t remember what my job is. I think my dreams are flashbacks from a past life as a CIA operative. These all get huge laughs.

You might assume that the breath mint is meant to cover the smell of whiskey, but you’re wrong. They’re actually painkillers that I cover in toothpaste. Why do I do that? I’m not sure but they’re starting to kick in. Please leave while I take a nap with my eyes wide open.

My physician tells me that my blood work isn’t getting any better which is confusing because my pharmacist tells me I’m doing great. While I generally trust physicians, my pharmacist is one of those impressive, go-getter entrepreneurs who started, and still operates, his business in his garage. He’s also the only pharmacist in town who will barter meds for office supplies. I don’t know why he needs so many laptops, but they seem to be worth a lot to him.

Sometimes when I can’t pay him, like when the supply closet is locked, he has me run errands for him, like spying on his ex-girlfriend. He even had me beat up her new boyfriend. Well actually, her new boyfriend beat me up. But I bled all over his car, so who really won? Probably still him since he made me wash his car.

That was over week ago and my nose is still bleeding. At first I was concerned. Then I realized no one has asked me to wash their car since, so it’s not all bad. I am now covered in blood and on the verge of passing out but at least I’ve had my coffee, my anti-depressants, my cholesterol medication, a shot of whiskey, a “breath mint,” and a pound of bacon.

So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?