Violent Mice & Public Transport

Hey there, Bill here with another update from our office.

While we were on a induced hiatus, Thomas had a lot of time to peruse online articles, and was shocked  to learn that violent mice were attacking commuters in the UK Tube system.

According to Thomas, these attacks weren’t racially motivated, nor were they provoked in any way by the ever-so polite, British public transport users, and that, in Thomas’ mind, was alarming enough to call another emergency meeting.

When I arrived at the office door, a sign was posted that instructed us to use the rubber bands that were provided, and put them on the cuffs of our sweatpants to, “Close off an avenue of attack in the event the violent rodents strike while we are training.”

For some reason, I felt compelled to actually comply with this asinine directive, and after doing so, I entered the office…

Seth was leading the staff in a Yoga stretching session, and members of the staff, regardless of age or body-type, were positioned in contortions that would make members of the Cirque du soleil cringe.

There was also a muscular gentleman who obviously still thought Mullets were acceptable,  wearing a Hanes Tank-top, sweatpants, and very white tennis shoes, standing by himself, throwing karate kicks at invisible opponents.

After the warm-up, Robin-yep, that was his name-the instructor stopped kicking the bejesus out of virtual enemies, and then pressed play on his cassette tape boombox.  The intro to Survivor‘s “Eye of the Tiger” began to blare, and that’s when I-or we all-knew, nothing good was going to come of this.

Robin seemed to get jazzed up by the song, and was clenching his fists and thrusting his arms with the music, and was every so often, asking us in a loud voice.  “Are ya gettin’ pumped!?”

Thomas was sitting at his desk typing on his keyboard,  “I’m researching the weaknesses of mice.”  He said as I stood in his doorway.  “Know your enemy, Bill.  Know your enemy.”

The others were shifting and cowering as they narrowly avoided Robin’s fists and feet from colliding with them as he thrust them aimlessly in the air to the music.  Clearly, this man knew nothing about Martial Arts, and I was quite certain he knew less about rodents.

To everyone’s relief, the music ended, and Robin, who by now was a massive, sweaty, heaving mess, was standing in a weird position, grabbing the inner part of his thigh near his groin.

Wincing as he ‘walked,’  Robin stopped next to me in the doorway and said to Thomas, “Dude, I think I pulled something.”

Thomas looked up at him and asked, “Can you teach still?”

Robin was breathing heavy and wincing even more as he groped and rubbed his inner thigh looking at me and then at Thomas before answering.  “No dude,” He started.  “We should probably reschedule.”

As Seth and I helped Robin to his Prius, Thomas followed with his calendar book, trying to find a day in the near future when Robin could come back.

After Robin promised to call Thomas with another day and time, he drove off to the nearest Starbucks for a recovery Latte.

Thomas was very disappointed and promised that he would ensure that we would get the proper training to fend off any rodent attacks, should they occur.

That’s pretty much it.

Until next time,



Writer & Artist. Seriously, that's all I do.

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