The poor sucker has taken over my life.

Good, he can have it. I’ve sat my fat ass in that same seat every monday-friday (minus holidays of course) for the last 5 years. From here I can see the countless coffee ring stains on the white vinyl of the desk. I was late anyways, so the early bird gets the worm it seems. (The worm is rotten, spoiler alert!)

I pivot on my heels and am facing the double doors to the office in two shakes of a lambs tail. Should I teach the fake me how to work the copier so it doesn’t jam? How to ass kiss el jefe so he doesn’t end up RIF’d? Do I still get to collect his paycheck? Will he come home and fuck my wife later? I’m locking the door when I get home.

Thinking positive, this is really an ideal stroke of luck! I’m still a little hungover from Sunday funday anyways and the fake me seems more chipper. I avoid the confusion of being seen as I push through the doors. As I suspected, everyone is too far up their own asses to notice I’ve duplicated.

Freedom.