mister nora will kill again.

So it seems like the soul of mister nora has been left to die a slow and undignified death in obscurity while some monstrous bitch with excellent skills in Microsoft Office cavorts around in her old, bloated body, making it do humiliating things like attend professional development seminars or plot how to make a rapid ascension up the pay-grade scale. Worst thing about this impostor is that she is fucking terrible at scaling the grades, so bad at it that she is in fact climbing downwards. If this shit continues, it looks like her five year plan is for her to be paying her employers a reasonable wage for the grand fucking honour of getting her name impermanently tattooed on the textured plastic wall of her very own sky-rise cubicle. This bitch sure knows how to live the high life.

Soul of mister nora is scratching around out there somewhere, though. Sometimes the impostor can feel one of mister nora’s claws pressing itchily on the underside of her pitiful conscience. This occurs most often when, cruel mistress that she is, the impostor is forcing the bloated body to stride intently past an inviting public bar without stopping by to exchange even a brief bit of chit-chat with a cold beer. When she’s at work, too, the impostor occasionally experiences a startling flicker in the corner of her eye, and she could almost swear she sees a large, three legged martini glass crawl speedily up the cubicle wall on her left before disappearing, in one slick manoeuvre, into a slender crack in the ceiling. And then there’s the thing that happens on the train on her way to work, when, lulled by the rhythmic sway of the carriage, the impostor will find herself gazing lovingly at the passenger beside her and listening to a gentle crooning on the inside of her head: hey there, pretty lady, would you like a small aperitif? A teeny weeny breakfast snack? A delicious and nutritious beginning to your busy day at the office? Well then, pretty lady, say hello to THE SEVERED HEAD OF YOUR FELLOW COMMUTER!

It’s times like these that the impostor thinks maybe she’s not quite rid of mister nora afterall.

xoxonora