Fellow warriors! A grave injustice has been committed this day!
What is it this time, Eric?
As ye all know, within yonder breakroom fridge, there dwells a legendary sandwich, forged with the bread of truth and tempered with Hellman's Lite Mayo.
We all know what a sandwich is, Eric.
BUT ALAS, whilst I was battling spreadsheets, mine lunch was pilfered.
You could just send an email abou-
I SUSPECT WOOD SPRITES.
Eric, can you take these papers to the shredder?
No need, wench! With a single blow, my enchanted mace shall cleave yon sensitive document in twain!
No, it won't, because it's made of nerf.
Hold your tongue, wench. Speak no ill of the fabled history of my mace. It goes by many names. Dawnslayer. Envelope opener. Shoe scraper.
Didn't HR send you an email about calling people wenches? And
everything else you do?
Enough talk, temptress! Roll for initiative!
I shall have these reports to you in a fortnight!
I need them by Friday.
My Liege, I embark on family vacation that morn!
You're all out of vacation days, Eric.
Then perhaps I will fall sick by week's end.
You can't take a sick day after trying to report it as vacation.
I'm beginning to feel a bit plague-ish.
Ah, Noble Zulrich, I have nay seen you since we slayed the mantid horde in the suntorn land of Athas!
Eric, you promised if I played D&D with you once after work you wouldn't talk about it in public.
How can I not sing the praises of Zulrich: noblest of paladins?
..I swear I don't usually hang out with him.
But our friendship was forged in the heat of battle!
I thought we were best friends.