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It's just bad luck, I guess.

So I went to work today. It was okay. I snuck in twenty minutes late and sat down at my desk. "Gabe, do this report like last time." The stack of papers said. Last time was over a week ago. I had no idea what to do. So I winged it. I'm 75% sure the report was already done when I started on it. I checked everything off and set it aside. Job well done, I told myself. You could use a break.

I sat down in my favorite stall after coating the toilet seat gratuitously with toilet paper. I was enjoying my bathroom time when another person came in, taking the far stall. This did not bother me. I did not make any noise, since I didn't need to. After a few minutes of silence he broke into song. Opera, I think. Bathrooms do have nice acoustics, I thought. I guess. He sang out for about 45 long seconds. He stopped abruptly with a sound that I'd heard before. Swish. Click.

A butterfly knife.

I froze on my toilet. "Hey cock sucker, come one step closer to me and I'll fucking kill you. I'll gut you like a bitch, motherfucker." He whispered. "You want to go, asshole? I'll cut you up, bitch. I'll fucking kill you." Um, I thought. I assessed the situation. "I dare you, motherfucker. Motherfucker I dare you. I'll kill you." He added. I unfolded my own knife and clutched it to my chest tightly, my pants around my ankles. The bathroom was very quiet. "Um," I said. "Are you talking to me?" There was a long pause. "No." He finally answered. "Okay," I replied. There were no more sounds in the bathroom as he flushed and exited. He did not wash his hands. Don't touch the doorknob, I reminded myself.

I'm beginning to think that either my workplace is highly unsafe or I'm just highly unlucky. That's okay. Either one is okay, I mean. Sort of. Unless it's unsafe. That would not be good. I need a different job. I think I'll go back to drawing cartoons.

There is almost no chance of being murdered or raped when you're a cartoonist.

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