Sweet! New company gym! Slinging steel is a perfect cure for TPS reports. Weeks pass and I fall more and more in love with the gym; aside from the few nerds using the ellipticals, it’s pretty much all mine. Strangely though, I’m garnering more and more resentful looks. One day the hate culminates; I’m in the showers when the overheads abruptly switch off. What the hell? The only illumination now is the ominous square of light coming in from the hallway. The hiss of the water seems extra loud in the dim luminescence. I see my coworkers shuffling into the shower, all clad in ninja outfits and holding katanas. “Come on, guys,” I laugh. They don’t respond; they just burn holes in me with their glares as they form a semi-circle around me, swords raised in different variations of a guard position. I start to get nervous. “Guys?” One of them—I can tell it’s Herbster from Accounts Payable— speaks in a furious, trembling voice: “We’ve been pee-checking you at the urinals for a while now, Kent, and we know that—” I interrupt: “Dude, that is SO creepy, I can’t believe—” “SHUT UP!” he screams. “We know you’re the only one among us that doesn’t have a micro-phallus—” At this point a spurt of laughter brays from my mouth but I quickly stifle it; these fools aren’t playing around. Herbster glares at me, then continues,”So we’ve decided…to make things fair.” I can’t see the sinister smile that blooms behind his ninja mask, but I can hear it in his voice. “What do you mean?” I ask. He nods to his cohorts and says, “Chop it off. All of it.” Then they’re charging en masse. They’re right; I have been blessed, and that being the case, it leaves me with one obvious weapon. I pick up the end of Second Kent (Can’t say Little Kent—should give you some idea of the size), and sling it right into Herbster’s face. He goes down like he’s been jacked by a bowling ball. A twist of my hips and I knock three more out with the equivalent of a spinning wheel kick. One of them’s blocking the door. I pull what I like to call, “The Indiana Jones”: I entangle his legs bullwhip style and jerk my hips back, yanking him off his feet. I run for the fiftieth story window, grabbing a base-jumping parachute from my desk that I’ve kept just for an occasion such as this. I point my elbow, smash through the window like the motha duckin’ Dark Knight, and pull the ripcord. The parachute billows open behind me and my descent slows momentarily….then I begin picking up speed. What the hell??? Suddenly I realize that Second Kent is too much weight for the parachute. I open my eReader to Echo (don’t ask where I store it) and a separate parachute opens for Second Kent. Me and my best buddy drift gently down, flaring once before we hit the ground.