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Description
Johnson picked up his keyboard and set it atop his computer, as was his daily end-of-the-day routine. Next, he shut down his PC and packed up the papers he would need to work on at home that night. He exited his cubicle after he finished his last minute checks (Johnson is a very organized and thorough man), walked down to the first floor of his office building, bade the secretary a good night, and went on his usual way home. He thought to himself as he walked, absentmindedly naming off the landmarks he passed as he stepped by them, Broken lamppost, apartment complex, blue fire hydrant, pile of empty beer cans from the local teens-he stooped to pick those up and throw them out-beat-up Oldsmobile, severed head, severed arm, pool of blood- Johnson did a double-take. "severed head, severed arm, pool of blood?" A few seconds went by until it dawned on him; at that point he promptly projectile vomited onto the nearest baby, who was a football field's length away. His cell phone was buried beneath the crap in his bag-which he found that morning, fresh-and the number-pad was a bit slow because of the crap, but he eventually dialed "9-1-1" successfully.

"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?" answered the operator calmly.

"I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I just found pieces of a body," stammered Johnson stutteringly.

"Sir, you say you've found 'pieces of a body'?"

"Yes, you idiotic feminist, I found a dead body!"

"There is no need for name-calling, sir; now, I need you to tell me where you are."

"I can't. I'm a misogynist."

"The author hasn't specified my gender though, so you can talk to me."

"Oh…" Johnson shrugged acquiescently. "Well, I'm on a sidewalk."

"…I'm going to need more information than that. Sir, do you know what day it is? You may be in shock."

"Sure I do; it's the day between Monday and Thursday."

The operator paused for a long time. Johnson lowered his voice to a whisper and hissed into the phone, "I sink you are a girl, comrade. Would you like to sssex me until we get caught by Mr. Charrington?"

Johnson heard a click, and then a dial tone. He shrugged and pocketed his phone. "My hands smell like shit," he said aloud, to which he also burst into laughter. Bending over, still in his fit of laughter, Johnson picked up the severed head by its hair. He brought it closer to his face because it was too light to see. "OH ME OH MY! You is just what I need for me witchy soup of vilenesss!"

Johnson spent the rest of his night knocking on people's doors and leaving the head on their doorsteps and watching the dwellers within shriek in fear and disgust. He had never had so much fun in his life. Until some lady came and hit him with a brick, saying something about her baby being "dirtied by vomit".

Description
Johnson picked up his keyboard and set it atop his computer, as was his daily end-of-the-day routine. Next, he shut down his PC and packed up the papers he would need to work on at home that night. He exited his cubicle after he finished his last minute checks (Johnson is a very organized and thorough man), walked down to the first floor of his office building, bade the secretary a good night, and went on his usual way home. He thought to himself as he walked, absentmindedly naming off the landmarks he passed as he stepped by them, Broken lamppost, apartment complex, blue fire hydrant, pile of empty beer cans from the local teens-he stooped to pick those up and throw them out-beat-up Oldsmobile, severed head, severed arm, pool of blood- Johnson did a double-take. "severed head, severed arm, pool of blood?" A few seconds went by until it dawned on him; at that point he promptly projectile vomited onto the nearest baby, who was a football field's length away. His cell phone was buried beneath the crap in his bag-which he found that morning, fresh-and the number-pad was a bit slow because of the crap, but he eventually dialed "9-1-1" successfully.

"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?" answered the operator calmly.

"I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I just found pieces of a body," stammered Johnson stutteringly.

"Sir, you say you've found 'pieces of a body'?"

"Yes, you idiotic feminist, I found a dead body!"

"There is no need for name-calling, sir; now, I need you to tell me where you are."

"I can't. I'm a misogynist."

"The author hasn't specified my gender though, so you can talk to me."

"Oh…" Johnson shrugged acquiescently. "Well, I'm on a sidewalk."

"…I'm going to need more information than that. Sir, do you know what day it is? You may be in shock."

"Sure I do; it's the day between Monday and Thursday."

The operator paused for a long time. Johnson lowered his voice to a whisper and hissed into the phone, "I sink you are a girl, comrade. Would you like to sssex me until we get caught by Mr. Charrington?"

Johnson heard a click, and then a dial tone. He shrugged and pocketed his phone. "My hands smell like shit," he said aloud, to which he also burst into laughter. Bending over, still in his fit of laughter, Johnson picked up the severed head by its hair. He brought it closer to his face because it was too light to see. "OH ME OH MY! You is just what I need for me witchy soup of vilenesss!"

Johnson spent the rest of his night knocking on people's doors and leaving the head on their doorsteps and watching the dwellers within shriek in fear and disgust. He had never had so much fun in his life. Until some lady came and hit him with a brick, saying something about her baby being "dirtied by vomit".