A Man to be Trifled With

“I’m not a man to be trifled with!” I howled.

Jenkins bowed his head and returned to his cubicle. I smiled, satisfied I’d showed him who’s boss, and returned to my office.

Upon my return I saw it. My desk, chair, everything was affixed to the ceiling. My computer, upside-down, sat bolted to the desk. They’d even stripped the carpet and reassemble it piecemeal upon the ceiling. I’d no idea how many people it’d taken, but it happened while I’d been screaming at Jenkins.

It was then I realized.

I am, it would seem, a man to be trifled with.