Swamp Monster

We work with a finance accountant who nobody likes. My colleague calls her Vinegar Tits. I call her Acid Drops.

She came in during the morning and said that she had a sore back because she had emptied out her pond on the weekend.

I smiled sweetly and said dead pan, “Oh really, so where did you sleep?”


There was a pause, when the world seemed to stop momentarily, that is the moment that I love. That millisecond of potential chaos where it could go either way, but didn’t. Acid Drops looked a little surprised, big eyes, mouth like a fruit loop.

Then I laughed.

And then she laughed, kind of nervously.

Then everybody laughed. Aren’t I funny everybody thought.

“Aren’t you funny,” she said. (And I learnt something that Acid Drops may, actually, have a sense of humour)

It is amazing what you can say if you just make a joke of it. You can get away with just about anything. Of course, they all think I am lovely. I’m on my best behaviour when I am in the office, naturally.

I think the key was that I didn’t add “swamp monster”, or anything like that to the end of my question to Vinegar Tits. The fat, moody cow, everyone hates her. I’m just smart enough to say it in such a way that they all think I am being awfully amusing.