What the hell?
What is it?
I showed up to work today, and I'm a barista at an indie coffee shop called “Perk Up.”
Well, while I can see where you might want a career with a little more upward mobility, there's nothing wrong with being a barista.
Unless you're this guy.
I'm usually an accountant.
Yeah. About to make partner at my firm and everything.
Have you recently taken any hallucinogenic drugs? Is there any chance the coffee shop is a delusion of some kind?
No, I don't think so. I… OW, fuck!
I just burned the shit out of my hand on the milk steamer.
Okay, so definitely a real coffee shop. Have you always harbored a secret dream of owning a coffee shop? Casting it all away to follow your heart's desire of caffeinated entrepreneurship?
Is this the face of freedom?
Not really, no.
Oh. I'm just saying. Because being an accountant sounds really boring.
Nothing personal. Do you have a history of sleepwalking?
No. I… oh no.
What is it?
My boss just walked in. My regular boss, from the firm.
What does he want?
He wants a triple soy latte with three pumps of sugar free vanilla and a dash of cinnamon.
Haha, that's a terrible drink. Is he mad that you didn't come into work today?
No, he's… He's smiling. I think he's flirting with me. Gosh, I never noticed how nice his hair was until today. He looks gorgeous.
I think I've figured out what's going on. I think you're in a slash fanfic.
I don't understand what those words mean. (Oh god, he just touched the back of my hand and laughed, I think I'm going to die. What is WRONG with me?)
It means that all signs point to you being trapped in a fictional reality for the express purpose of having sex with your boss.
Like this, but twice as many dicks and fewer lace stockings. Maybe.
Look, I didn't come up with this, okay? I'm just the messenger.
How did this happen?
Okay, is there anyone at your office who ships you and your boss?
Who whats me and my boss? Wow, his teeth are perfect. And his lips are so full and pouty, flushing red like…
Stop. Please. "Ships" as in relationships. Like, imagines the two of you together forever, getting married and having beautiful babies.
We're both dudes.
That is completely irrelevant.
A harrowing documentary.
Indeed. So, is there anyone you can think of who might want to see you make sweet love to your boss, or vice versa?
I'd let him vice my versa. I mean, no! I mean, I don't know, I never thought about it before.
Think, man! Anyone who looks at the two of you for far too long? Anyone who maybe keeps constant notes during meetings, even when nothing is happening?
No, not really... Wait. Wait. Carol is always doing something on her phone. I thought she was addicted to Candy Crush, but I guess she might... and she DID nearly walk into the door the last time I stayed behind after a meeting to have a private word with Peter.
I mean, Mr. Sandusky. My boss. Fuck.
He just asked what time I get off. I bit my lip so hard I think I'm bleeding.
Oh dear. Do you think Carol's into the kinky stuff?
I have no idea! She's always so quiet! Never talks to anyone, wears her shirts buttoned all the way up, sensible cardigans and stuff.
It's always the quiet ones.
What did you say?
I just told him I finished work at six, and he chuckled deep in his chest and said I'd be getting off by six thirty.
Heh. That's a good line.
Ha, I just got it. OH GOD.
Stay calm. Just hand him his coffee and tell him you're flattered, but not interested.
Did it work?
I told him I'd meet him out front when my shift was over.
Well at least you have time to plan for it. All right, what do we know about this guy?
He's six foot two, about a hundred and eighty pounds, I think. Pale blonde hair, like corn silk in sunshine, and these piercing green eyes that are just... they're like emeralds, cut through with moonlight, mysterious and enchanting. His chest is...
I meant what do we know about his personality?
Oh. Well, he's a pretty good boss, I guess. Attentive, but not overbearing. He cares about the work, y'know? And about his employees, like, he makes sure to give every one of us his personal touch; to show us how much we mean to him. He's got this commanding air about him, not domineering, but just... in control. And all I have to do is give in, and… and… what the hell am I saying?
This is worse than I thought.
What should I do?
Can you get to your car? You should probably try to go home and just forget this is happening.
I'll try... oh shit!
It's six o'clock somehow! Eight hours passed in the last twenty sentences!
Carol must be skipping to the good part.
Time flies when you're imagining your coworkers fucking.
The good part? Oh god, I can see Peter standing outside. He's wearing a leather jacket now. I think he's got a motorcycle.
Wow, okay, she's all in on this. There may be nothing you can do but go with it.
Go with it?
You know, let him take you out. Have some drinks, a nice dinner... just see where it goes.
I'm pretty sure I know where it goes.
Heh, nice one.
Nice what? ...oh, you're awful!
You knew that when you asked for my help.
I know. Even when you make jokes at my expense, or when you give me terrible advice, I still feel like I can trust you, y'know? Like we have this close connection...
Hey now, leave me out of this.
Why? Are you afraid of your feelings? Afraid there might be something more between us?
I'm the disembodied voice of an advice column. It would never work out.
Oh. I guess you're right.
Yeah, so go enjoy your date or whatever. If you wake up tomorrow and everything is back to normal, you can always destroy Carol's phone.
Okay, that sounds pretty reasonable. Wait. What do you mean, “if”?
Well, you could wake up and be a ballet dancer, a stripper, a genderswapped version of Elizabeth Bennet, a porn star, a secret agent, a penguin...
...a dolphin, trapped in a Canadian shack, in prison, with superpowers, a puppy, a catboy, in a BDSM alternate reality, or you and Peter might be brothers. Just for starters.
Brothers as in...?
You ever see that Folgers commercial?
The best part of waking up…
Yeah. So... you might want to stock up on lube. Have fun!