Guy who read a book thinks he’s smart now

Some guy read a book and now he thinks he’s smart. Nobody cares what he read, and he can barely remember anything from it, but he says the one thing that stuck out to him and claims that it’s “valuable” and “interesting,” and the jury is out on whether anyone agrees.

“He told me I should read it too, and I said maybe.” Said, Abel Veekmin, friend of the guy.

“I forget what he said it was about, because I was cleaning my CD player with Q-tips.” Veekman said, while still cleaning his CD player with what appeared to be an already-used Q-tip.

“Remember CD players?” He asked me, as I watched him complete his meager ritual.

“I do, yea, I had one.” I replied.

“Oh, great,” Veekman responded, smarmy.

“I didn’t ask if you had one, I just asked if you remembered them.” Scoffed Veekman, over his shoulder, because he had now turned to kick the dirt off his shoes into a waste basket.

“This is a really fucking stupid interaction we’re having right now.” I sternly and pointedly delivered to Veekman.

“I wish I were anywhere but this conversation.” I said, in jest, now twirling in circles in my office chair, tossing tiny shreds of paper into the air, ripped off my empty notepad.

Veekman threw up.

“Ew!” I shrieked with disgust and abhorrent termulsion.

Then a subversive doldrum of a candid cankerous intimation enveloped the current situation.

I had no idea what that meant but the guy who read the book taught me all those new words so I wanted to use them.

You don’t know if I’m using them correctly or not because you weren’t there to witness whatever it was that happened.

And boy, did it.

It happened alright.

All of it.

Ok, that’s enough keyboard training for today.

I’m forced to type for a certain number of minutes per day at the office or my paycheck does not get validated. 

They need to see “number of keystrokes” or else I’m axed. 

That’s fine though. I’m not complaining. I’m just stating what it is.

Alright, I can’t do this anymore, see you all later.