Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold

…with a side of tuna.

Early in my new career I made the mistake of responding to an order from my officemate by telling him I was not his monkey. It probably went down like this:

“F$&* you dude, I’m not your monkey.”
[BEAT]
“What do I need to do?”

What can I say, I buckle like a belt.

The mistake here is that my officemate has clung to the monkey thing like the Pope to Powdered Toast Man’s buttocks. He calls me monkey all the time in the office, which I am usually able to ignore, but right around the time of the Iraqi constitutional referendum, the following sample ballot was sent out to several of my friends:


What could I do? Apparently my status as Wayne’s Monkey was being decided by the Iraqi people. I am all about democracy and therefore I was totally hosed as the constitution passed with James being designated as Wayne’s Monkey.

Well played, clerk, well played. All I could do was wait until the time was right.

Have I mentioned that when vengeance is the game I can be a patient man? (Or I really hang on to things for an inordinate amount of time? Its one of the two and I prefer the whole patience thing. It makes me sound more nefarious.) This past week Wayne finally made a critical mistake. He fell asleep at his desk while someone in the office had their digital camera. Thus the following picture was taken and sent to all of the same friends who received the Iraqi ballot:


I am sure Monster energy drink appreciates the ringing endorsement.

Now I need to take a moment for a brief aside. Sleeping in the office is probably considered and art form in some places and lord knows I have done it once or twice myself (but not since starting my new job). There are a couple of rules about sleeping in the office:

1. Don’t do it with your door open.


2. Don’t get caught by the boss.


3. Don’t snore.

In this case Wayne managed to hit the trifecta. Our boss was the one who came over and pointed out Sleeping Beauty to me as I had my headphones in and was rocking out to some Bowling for Soup. He then went across the hall to the office where the other two guys in the department work and got one of them to shoot the picture. After the picture was taken we stood around in the hallway and giggled like schoolgirls until Wayne woke up.

Now this picture of Wayne sleeping got me thinking. How could I use this picture against Wayne? Clearly I could not use it as blackmail material since the boss was in on the reindeer games. I contemplated making a photocomicstrip a la Beaucoup Kevin but discarded that as derivative and I could not think of anything REALLY funny to do with the strip. ARGH! Here I had something with great revenge potential and I couldn’t think of anything to do!

I think I was driving home that night when inspiration struck. I knew how to strike back, but my plan hinged on my ability to track down a picture of a tuna can. I can see your faces now, “A tuna can?” Yes, a tuna can. We have a mutual friend who decided at some point it would be funny to try and convince everyone that rather than a regular penis, his was like a tuna can, which is to say not very long but with extra girth. He has hence been referred to as Mr. Tuna Can or Majestic Tuna Can. Do you see where this is going now? Good.

Fortunately when I got home tracking down a picture of a tuna can proved to be laughably easy. It actually took me more time to create the following image to share with the world:


Not the best photoshopping job, I know, but it is only just beginning my friends. Oh yes, this is only the beginning.