“It was Dilroy!” It was always Dilroy. Billy sat in his chair and squirmed like little boys do when they get in trouble. And he was in trouble, but he was also nearly thirty. He’d blamed Dilroy for the mistake but –and he never seemed to learn – there was no Dilroy at the company where he worked.
Wayne sighed and leaned against the cubicle wall. “Billy, this is getting ridiculous. When we hired you – and remember, we were doing your Dad a favor – we agreed that you’d sit at your desk and not touch anything or talk to anyone.”
“But Wayne,” Billy wailed. “If you’d just give me a chance to do some real work I wouldn’t have to be so obnoxious.”
Wayne considered this carefully. Having another worker might be beneficial. But then again, every office needed an obnoxious guy. On the other hand, they weren’t an office. Still, the idea of Billy doing work was laughable. The guy could barely sit still in his chair all day with nothing to do.
“You’re going to have to make a choice” said Wayne.
“And that choice is?”
“I’m either going to need you to find the mythical jock strap of Hercules or see our psychologist.”
Billy’s adventures are too incredible to recount in the written medium, but after returning with the famed jockstrap, briefing the board and giving credit to Dilory, Billy settled back into the role of guy-who-doesn’t-do-anything-and-bothers-everyone and they all lived happily ever after.