The Office Diaries – Craif. Vol III (Return of the Craif)

“Open your eyes, Craif…. Craif… open your eyes.”

The sound of the surgeon’s voice stirred the sleeping beast. Craif raised his hand to shield his eyes from the soft florescent light.

“Seriously Craif,” the surgeon commanded, “Quit fucking around. Your surgery was 8 weeks ago. This is just a follow up visit.”

“Then why am I so groggy?” Craif asked.

“Oh I don’t know,” the surgeon responded. “It probably has something to do with that all you can eat, gravy buffet you just came from.”

“Oh yeah,” Craif responded. He had almost forgotten how awesome he was.

Craif looked around the consultation room and held out his right hand. “Mirror!” he demanded,

“Craif, we operated on your shoulder. You don’t need a mirror. Just look over at it,” the surgeon suggested.

“MIRROR!” Craig yelled.

“Craif, if you’re channeling Jack Nicholson’s Joker I’m gonna…”

Craif shook his outstretched hand violently. The surgeon gave a sigh of frustration. He knew what was coming next. He handed Craif a mirror. Craif gazed into it for a moment and then began laughing uncontrollably. He bent over and clutched his stomach. Then suddenly he smashed the mirror on the tray of surgical tools standing by his examination chair.

“And there it is,” the surgeon called out. “Every fucking time. It doesn’t matter if I am examining a joint or giving you a prostate exam. Whenever you are in my office you feel the need to re-create that scene from Batman.” The surgeon was losing his patients with Craif.

Craif gave a mischievous grin and said, “Fuckin’ Craif.”

The surgeon had had enough,” Alright, that’s it. Get the fuck out of my office,” he ordered.

“Did you make the special modifications I requested?” Craif asked.

“Oh, you mean that insane shit that is in clear violation of the Geneva Convention? Yeah I took care of that. Although I don’t know what the hell…”

Craif pressed his index finger up to the surgeon’s lips. “ That’s not your concern, surgeon.” Craif got up from the chair and turned to leave the office. He was almost to the door when he heard the surgeon mutter something that made Craif see red.

“There’s still the matter of payment,” the surgeon said. “Your insurance isn’t going to cover this procedure you know.

Craif slowly turned and walked up to the surgeon. He was three feet away from him as he stared menacingly into the physician’s eyes. He had seen that look in a man’s eyes before. Fear.

Craif leaned in so that only the surgeon could hear him. “That’s more money out of my pocket,” Craif whispered.   “No one takes money out of my pocket.”

Suddenly, Craif’s arm extended. It began to rotate at the shoulder. Slowly at first. Then it began to pick up speed. Faster and faster Craif’s arm rotated, like the propeller of a plane that his friend El Conquistador used to seduce foreign women. When his arm reached its maximum velocity, Craif leaned into the surgeon and struck him with the palm of his hand.   He connected with such force that the surgeon turned to a cloud of dust. When the dust had settled, Craif turned and left the office.

Outside the office, Craif walked up to his tank-truck that he had parked on top of another silver Honda Civic. He though Day Day would have appreciated that. As he walked up to the driver’s side door he was greeted by a familiar face.

“Hola, Craif!” the woman said with a cheer in her voice that made Craif quake with rage. “Its me!” Craif recognized the woman as Consuela, the woman from the office he worked at. Of course Consuela wasn’t her real name but again, Craif didn’t have time for details that “weren’t American.”

“Craif, I have da wonderful news,” Consuela said with delight. “I talk to dee Silver Fox. He gonnna give me da raise I ask for!”

“Based on what, pray tell,” Craif asked with contempt. His blood boiled with disbelief. Craif, didn’t like to see good things happening to people who weren’t him.

“Well, it was my six week anniversary,” Consuela responded. “Da Silver Fox said that he would make me a manager and pay me triple what I was already making. Isn’t that wonderful?!”

Craif couldn’t take any more. Every muscle in his body flexed as he called upon the power that had recently been bestowed upon him.

“Magic shoulder, engage!” he cried. His arm began revolving in a windmill-like fashion as it had done earlier. He leaned in and connected with Consuela’s lady parts. The force of the impact caused the young lady to disintegrate into a puff of dust.

Craif looked down at the pile of dust that was once his coworker. “Interesting,” he thought aloud. “I would have expected refried beans.” Craif was a dick. Craif climbed up into his tank-truck and drove off down the road.

After a few miles, Craif came upon a Brazilian Bistro. These places were unique because they served all you could eat meat buffets for one flat price. It was like a game really. A game to see who would “tap out” first. Craif saw this as a personal challenge. He pulled into the parking lot and parked his tank-truck on top of the first Honda Civic he saw.

As Craif entered the restaurant he was greeted by a nice Brazilian boy who wore a lot of eye makeup.

El Millennial

“Hello, my friend. Have you eaten here before?” the young man asked.

“No, but my friend Day Day told me about you guys. All you can eat meat, correct?” Craif asked.

“Yes. Yes. That is correct,” the boy said with enthusiasm, although he wasn’t sure what a Day Day was. “We give you a card. One side is red, the other is green. Green means ‘bring me more meat’ and read means ‘no more meat.’ Anytime you need a break in the meats just turn your car up to the red side.”

“I’ll tell you what, chief,” Craif said condescendingly. “How about you just give me a card that is green on both sides.” Craif was a dick.

The young man proceeded to sit Craif at a table. Immediately, Craif flipped his card to the green side. Promptly, another Brazilian boy came up to his table.

“You want the meats?” the Brazilian boy asked in broken English.

“Fuck yeah, I want the meats!” Craif replied.

One after the other, the Brazilian meat boys delivered pound after pound of meat to Craif. Sirloin, ribeye, baby backribs, whole chickens. There was nothing that Craif hadn’t sampled.

Six hours later, Craif still held his seat at the table. It was at that point the lead chef walked up to Craif’s table.

“Mi Amigo,” the Chef pleaded. “You have been here longer than anyone has ever lasted. We have run out of the meats to serve you.”

Craif narrowed his eyes on the chef. “I paid for all I could eat,” Craif demanded. “I haven’t come close to my limit yet!”

“Yes sir, but you see…”

“Don’t give me excuses!!!” Craif yelled. “Just find me more meat!”

The chef leaned in close to Craif, being ever so careful as to not get eaten himself. “My friend…” he started “We have nothing left to give.”

Craif looked around the room. He saw a lady with a newborn baby in a car seat. “That’s a plum baby,” Craif suggested.

“You can’t be serious,” the chef suggested.

“Do you want to hear the crazy part?” Craif asked.

“This isn’t the crazy part?!” the chef exclaimed

Craif took a long look at the chef. After he stared for a moment he muttered, “…gravy on everything.”

45 minutes later Craif got up from his chair and began to leave the restaurant. As he approached the door he heard the chef yell from the back of the room.

“Wait! I must know the name of the man who conquered our all you can eat meat buffet,” the chef pleaded.

Craif turned to face the chef and said, “Its not who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me.”

The chef considered this for a moment and said, “Well you just ate a human baby so… Cannibal Man?”

Craif flipped an imaginary cape at the chef as he ran off into the night.

As Craif walked up to his tank-truck that was parked atop of someone’s silver Honda Civic he noticed a change in the air. He turned around, sniffing the air the way you sniff when you think you smell shit but you’re not sure where it’s coming from.

“I sense something,” Craif began. “A presence I haven’t felt since…”

In that moment a dark figure emerged from behind Craif’s tank-truck. The figure wore a hooded cloak, which hid its identity.   Craif squinted to see if he could identify this figure that was approaching him. What was this feeling that had taken over him? Craif considered this for a minute. It wasn’t until the figure removed its hood and began to speak that Craif realized what he was sensing.

Lunacy.

“Well… well… well,” the figure began. Craif recognized his voice and a chill ran down his back. “If it isn’t my favorite agent of… All-snake.”

“Swilmer…” Craif said with disgust. It had been years since Craig has seen his archenemy. Truthfully, Craif had thought he was dead.

“I heard you were still roaming these parks, Craif,” Swilmer said. “And I gotta say. That really pisses me off…” “So how about it. Would you like to join me on a flat hike? For old times sake?” Swilmer asked.

“The preferred nomenclature is, A WALK!!!” Craif exclaimed. With that, Craif had had all he could take. “Magic shoulder!!! Engage!!!” he cried out.

Craif’s arm began to rotate faster than ever. It was like a windmill, but more like a really fast windmill that probably wouldn’t pass inspection. Craif charged at Swilmer with fury in his eyes. The pavement cracked under each step of his foot as the centripetal force of his arm enhanced the force of gravity on his body, which was already large from all the meat he had consumed.   This was some Einstein shit that Craif couldn’t comprehend because he didn’t believe in books.

Once Craif was within range he hit Swilmer with a windmill, uppercut to the crotch. Craif stared in horror as it had no affect on his rival.

Swilmer looked down at Craif and smiled. “Your gonna have to do better than that,” he said. Craif proceeded to pummel Swilmer with a barrage of blows from his surgically enhanced appendage. Fire shot out from exhaust pipes on his rear deltoids, which indicated that his greatest weapon was reaching its limit. Just then, the unthinkable happened.

As Craif’s arm came down to deal what he hoped would be a fatal blow, his enemy reached up and caught Craif’s hand like goliath catching a falling leaf.

“What?!” Craif exclaimed. “It’s… impossible.”

Swilmer held Craif’s arm, suspended in midair with a grin on his face.

“How could you take that onslaught?” Craif demanded.

Swilmer reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle. He held it up for Craif to see. Then, with a menacing tone he replied, “Allow me to introduce you to my friend, Ibuprofen.”

It can’t be, Craif thought with desperation.

“Now its my turn,” Swilmer declared as he lifted Craif off the ground by the arm which was once his greatest weapon.   “Simon says, bleed!” With a swift kick, Swilmer sent Craif flying into the rear driver’s side door of his own tank-truck.

Craif grabbed his stomach and leaned over. The pain was excruciating. As he coughed uncontrollably, blood leaked from his mouth. It was obvious something had ruptured internally but Craif didn’t have a Biology degreed so he couldn’t tell what it was.

Where was Day Day when you needed him?

Swilmer approached slowly as Craif lay on the ground in a pool of his own vomited blood. “Its like this Craif,” Swilmer started, “from now on I want you to work only for me.”

Craif struggled to gather his voice. “That’s not gonna happen,” he said defiantly. “I have seven hundred other things to do.”

Swilmer’s face twisted in disgust. “Well if that’s the way you want it… then so be it.” Swilmer picked up a shard of glass that had broken off of Craif’s tank-truck window. “Say goodnight, Craif!” He raised the shard over his head and prepared to bring it down upon the defenseless Craif.

Suddenly, a pole burst through Swilmer’s chest. Blood spewed across Craif’s face. Confusion overtook Swilmer as he fell to the ground. As Swilmer hit his knees, Craif saw a figure standing behind his fallen nemeses.

“Its just been revoked,” said the Godfather. They really hadn’t set him up for that Lethal Weapon quote but hey, the Godfather did what he wanted.

“Godfather?” Craif croaked with blood still spewing from his mouth.

Where the fuck was Day Day when you needed him?! He was practically a doctor!

“Yeah Craf, its me,” the Godfather replied.

“You came all the way down here to save me… why… why did you come to save me?” Craif asked.

A smile grew across the Godfather’s face and as it grew large so did the smile on Craif’s. “Because you love me?!” Craif asked.

“No,” the Godfather laughed. “Because I need you to drive me around in your tank-truck, Craif.” The Godfather was wise and very direct.

Craif climbed to his feet and smiled at the Godfather. He looked down at his fallen enemy and tried to remember why they hated each other so much. It had been so many years that Craif had forgotten.

“I’ve got something for you,” Craif said to the Godfather. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to his tank-truck. He tossed them to the Godfather and said, “She’s all yours.”

The Godfather looked at the keys with disgust and replied, “I don’t think you heard me. I need YOU to drive ME around, Craif.” But one look into Craif’s eyes and the Godfather knew this would be the last time he would seen his designated chauffeur.

“Where will you go,” the Godfather asked.

Craif look off into the setting sun. After a moments pause he replied, “I’m not sure… but I hear Mexico is nice this time of year.” For Craif, this could mean literally anywhere that wasn’t America.

The Godfather climbed up into the tank-truck. He turned the key and he drove off as Craif limped off in the opposite direction. The Godfather rolled his widow down and turned on the radio. It was no surprise that Craif had been blasting some station that only played music that a person could slit their own wrists to. The Godfather drove for a solid twelve miles when he slammed on the brakes and skidded off into the emergency lane.

“What a dumbass,” he thought aloud. “I could have dropped him off at the airport…” But sometimes you just gotta let Craif be Craif.

_____________________________________________________________

EPILOGUE

Day Day sat at a small table in east Vietnam. He had just eaten some rat on a stick and was wondering why he ever chose to use his vacation on such a wretched place. His waitress came up to him and said, “Me love you long time.”

Chuck E Cheese’s franchises sure were differed over here.

As he looked over to the other side of the patio he saw a familiar face. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust. It was his old buddy Craif. He didn’t say anything to Craif, nor Craif to him. It was enough just to know that Craif had made it. Day Day proceeded to raise his glass and gave Craif a friendly nod. Criaf proceeded to raise his hand and gave Day Day the middle finger.

THE END, Craif.