Not a Good Day
It was just one of those days. At the office. You know: One of those days that by right shouldn't exist because they're just too lousy. Anyway, that's what Zen Zombie Zebra thought as he left his boss' office.
He had a splitting headache; a distinct feeling that a bunch of octopusses - or was that octopi? - were mating in his stomach; he had just lost a huge bet to a colleague; and to top it off, he had now been chewed out by his boss for not doing his homework before the presentation this morning.
Since Zen Zombie Zebra had been busy doing drugs ... at least he assumed they were drugs, it sounded better than 'some strange, unknown and undoubtedly banned chemical substances' the night before (hence the lousy bodily feelings), he hadn't given the presentation a thought.
Neither had his boss, obviously.
They both thought the other one was going to prepare and present the case to the client. Consequently they were both completely unprepared at the presentation. They both blamed each other. At the presentation. In front of the client.
Not good.
Lucky Loosers Playing the Blame Game
Lucky for them it turned out that the client had already made up her mind to buy. The client did make one amendment to the contract, however. She actually wrote it by hand in both copies of the contract. The amendment was this:
Neither Zen Zombie Zebra nor his boss was to have anything to do with the client, nor any part of the client's account, ever.
Zen Zombie Zebra felt his boss was to blame. That feeling was mutual. But at least they secured the client. Or, as the case might be, didn't scare her enough to leave.
Signs of Low Self Esteem
So, as Zen Zombie Zebra passed the water cooler, he was feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. The first small signs of low self esteem were starting to emerge.
Maybe he should have prepared for the presentation. Maybe he shouldn't have done the drugs yesterday. Or the day before. Or the day before that.
Maybe he simply wasn't fit for this job. No, scratch that, he definitely wasn't fit for this job. Nor any other job, for that matter. Except maybe the job of being a homeless, sick, broke junkie on the street, begging for mercy money and blaming everyone else for his misfortune. Especially his boss.
Symptoms of Low Self Esteem
The small signs were turning into clear cut symptoms of low self esteem.
Yes, he could be homeless and sick in the street. Easily. Unfortunately, nobody would care. He just wasn't important. Not to his friend (he only had one), not to anyone else, and certainly not to himself.
There must be something wrong with me, he thought. Something very wrong. No, worse, his thoughts continued, I am unimportant, there's something wrong with me AND I am just not good enough.
The Point of No Self Esteem
His self esteem, which had been lousy for as long as he could remember, had hit a new all time low. The symptoms of low self esteem of were even more powerful than before, and in fact low self esteem wasn't even a proper expression of it. Double low self esteem, lowest self esteem or even no self esteem was more like it.
So wrapped up in his dark thoughts was he, that he didn't notice the pink hind quarters in front of him before he literally plowed his muzzle into them.
He just had time to register the sweetly musky smell before a well manicured rear hoof caught him on the side of the head, knocking him temporarily unconscious.
A New Experience
When he came to, the first thing he saw was a pair of eyes to die for. They were set in a pink horse's face, and the mane was groomed into a cool, slightly cute punk hairdo. He could still smell the sweet musky smell on his muzzle and was vaguely aware of a strange sensation somewhere in his nether regions.
"Well, I am SO sorry that I clobbered you like that," Pink Punk Pony said. "But honestly, I was so surprised that I reacted instinctively. You DID get VERY intimate very quickly."
Zen Zombie Zebra looked around. The water cooler was nowhere to be seen. Instead he saw shelves full of paper, pens, staplers and random office supplies. He could feel his battered brain trying to make some kind of sense out of this.
Eventually his brain concluded: They weren't in the hallway anymore.
Pink Punk Pony Points South
"And when I noticed something growing, you know, down there," she batted some impossibly long eyelashes at some point on Zen Zombie Zebra's body, far south of his head, "then I thought I'd better get you out of the hallway. Or, get US out of the hallway," she finished with a cute smile playing at the corners of her muzzle.
"Er. Uh," Zen Zombie Zebra said and shook his head before continuing "Ouch-ouch-ouch" in a strained voice.
His brain had obviously been dislocated.
Maybe it had even been torn completely loose, because when he shook his head it felt like the brain was rattling about randomly inside his skull.
More Symptoms (but Hardly Symptoms of Low Self Esteem)
Something near the beginning of his hind legs was hurting, too. Or maybe not hurting. More like throbbing.
At least the squids - or was that octopi? - inside his stomach had gone.
"You're the silent type, then, eh?" Pink Punk Pony said. "I like that. There's something else I like about you, too. Apart from your very direct approach to the ladies. Something that I REALLY like." She batted those impossibly long eyelashes at him again.
Zen Zombie Zebra got on his legs. His world spun. His head throbbed. So did his groin. He groaned.
Pink Punk Pony Plays Poke-Me-Poker
Suddenly he was somehow lifted up. Pink Punk Pony had inserted herself under him. She wriggled. And giggled. It tickled.
"Wha... what are you ... oh ... OH ... doing? Ouch, argh," he said. The squids - he was pretty sure now that they were squids - had returned. Other sensations struggled for his attention, too, and he couldn't make up what little was left of his mind which ones to concentrate on. His low self esteem took over. The whole scenario was too unreal to believe, anyway.
"Oh, my, but you're a big boy," Pink Punk Pony moaned. "And striped, too. That's SO kinky! Geez I really need this. Geez, geez, GEEZ!"
Zen Zombie Zebra really could not concentrate on what was happening. His world was spinning too fast. He simply tried to stay on his legs. His hind legs. In fact, he was rapidly losing consciousness.
Then Pink Punk Pony exclaimed a final "Geez" while stamping deep hoofmarks on to some letterhead paper that had fallen to the floor ... and after that she elegantly slid out from under him, gave him a quick muzzle-to-muzzle and left the room.
Zen Zombie Zebra passed out. When he did, his head hit the floor quite hard.
Later
When he woke up again the light in the room had dimmed because it was getting dark outside. He could see it through the tiny windows set just under the ceiling. On the other side of the door, out in the hallway, all was quiet.
Zen Zombie Zebra located a stockpile of wastebaskets in a corner and threw up into them. This made him feel somewhat better.
The Lonely Zebra's Symptoms of Low Self Esteem Strike Again
When he exited the room the hallway was dark, too. Everybody had left. He had spent the entire afternoon in the supply room.
The funny thing was he had absolutely no idea what had actually happened. He remembered the awful presentation, he remembered his boss chewing him out, he remembered the low self esteem reaching the point of no self esteem, he remembered passing the water cooler and then SMACK! Nothing.
Like someone had clobbered him on the head with a baseball bat, dragged him into the supply room and left him for dead.
Maybe that's what happened, he thought.
Yeah, that's probably what happened. One of my co-workers hates me so much that he or she tried to kill me. Considering my luck with the ladies, it was probably a 'she'.
Damn! I wish she had done a proper job on me!
