Presentation from Hell…you all know about this

Crowley decided that he’d rather suffer from bubonic plague than listen to Dan speak, or perhaps Ebola or an acute case of appendicitis. The man had the innate ability to anaesthetise the most active of brain cells in the most stimulating of environments. He could have single-handedly prevented the Renaissance. Artists would have thrown away their paint and brushes for the last time; thinkers would have had their brains dulled to nothingness; scientists would have stopped playing around with their gadgets. All of these wonderful people would have lost all motivation, realised the error of their ways, crumbled under his attack and slunk off back to their disease-ridden villages to once more grow potatoes and barley and wait for death to relieve them from the pain of existence. Or they might have simply slit their wrists.

Dan could make fifteen minutes last for three hours, drain the colour out of the most beautiful image, or suck the life out of a whole vibrant city. He was a weapon brought out by the executive team whenever progress or common sense was threatening to overcome mindless, mundane incomprehensible policy and process.

This was the Branch meeting from hell – or perhaps he’d died and gone to hell without realising it. There was no escape and Crowley could feel his heart beating faster with the tension. It was almost unbearable. Dan was droning on, and on, and on. In fact, Crowley’s brain was dissolving. He fancied that he could feel it starting to dribble out of his ears. Dan tended to do that to people – he had all the charisma of a festering turd.

Crowley found himself wondering whether he would be able to retain his ability to function logically long enough to locate a cyanide pill that would put him out of his misery before he lost all brain function, reached a vegetative state, and became a burden to the taxpayer.

A glance at the alternately blank, desperate, or tortured expressions on the faces of his colleagues re-assured him that he was not alone. There should be some sort of law against this sort of cruelty, particularly as it happened every Monday morning. Who had meetings on a Monday morning?

A spreadsheet currently adorned the screen on the wall – the latest slide in yet another PowerPoint presentation. Come to think of it, there should be a law against gratuitous use of PowerPoint presentations too. Dan was going through each column of the spreadsheet in excruciating detail.

Crowley snapped, pulled out his gun, and shot Dan between the eyes; at least he would have done if he’d had a gun to hand. A life sentence with hard labour would be a breeze compared to this. Or maybe his colleagues would be able to convince a jury that what he had done was purely in self-defence and in the interests of everybody in the room. Surely a reasonable jury would agree if he brought along a recording of the event. They’d probably dig up Dan and shoot him again, just to make sure.

About George Fripley
I am a writer who enjoys writing humour, satire, poetry and sometimes a bit of philosophy. I live in Perth, Western Australia and occasionally get a poem or article published. It's all good fun! I have two books available for unwary readers, Grudges, Rumours and Drama Queens- The Civil Servant's Manual (This contains all that anybody could ever want to know about why government runs so slowly) and More Gravy Please! - the Politician's Handbook. (available through Amazon)

2 Responses to Presentation from Hell…you all know about this

  1. DL says:

    Been there, sat through one and had to keep stabbing myself with a plastic fork in order to stop falling off my chair as I began to nod off….

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