The Whittler of Hamburgmenstein

I'm sitting at work. I'm typing everything that comes to my mind. I'm looking up at the ceiling. One of the light units has what looks like a bug in it. It's disgusting. I hate looking at it. How does a bug get in there? One of the tiles above my head has a small hole in it. Oh wait, another tire has a small hole too. I don't like it when the ceiling has holes. This place is weird. It's so secretive. They won't let anybody into the office unless they're wearing a company badge. They're afraid that an "outsider" will come in and record people's phone calls or something. I'm listening to Rachmaninoff. This particular song is kind of haunting. It has a fair amount of hauntiness to it. Is that a word? It is now. They were playing Despicable Me 2 in the breakroom. I didn't like the first one. And I don't like the 2nd one. I'm sorry. And I don't like Jimmy John's. Did you know that? Hate it. Hate hate hate. I used to give people lectures on why I hate it, but I don't do that anymore. Nobody likes a lecture. Unless it's a lecture about candy, and then the lecturer hands out candy at the end of the lecture. There's this nasty little particle on my desk. I think it's dust. I usually try to flick them into the crack at the edge of the desk so I don't have to look at them. Sometimes, I flick them too hard, and they just bounce off the wall and resume sitting in a spot where I have to look at them. If I flick them too softly, they don't make it to the edge. You have to be very precise with the flicking. My direct supervisor never gives me candy. Even worse... he doesn't even have candy. This is terrible, because he used to have candy, and he would give it to you if you got a good score on a test call. Then one day at work when I was really hungry, I did really great on a test call. Then my supervisor said, "Sorry, I don't do candy anymore." And everything changed after that day.

Everything.