When I saw Tinfoil Hat Steve harangue a coworker, I decided it was time to make myself a cup of tea. When he left, she took the opportunity to hide in the bathroom. He came back in and told me to expressly inform her that England was constantly shooting guns at us, and the queen was the most evil person on the planet, and ate babies covered with gold leaf.
I believe he thinks she can do something about that.
Mystic Armenian powers, or something.
He then spent an hour and half outside chainsmoking and muttering to himself. I asked my voodoo-queen coworker to remove him, utter an incantation, dissolve him into thin air, something. No such luck.
Her power does not extend to the patio.
Mystic Armenian, hah!
No wonder the English monarch is worse than both Hillary Clinton and the Russian consulate in San Francisco. Nobody is capable of magically counteracting her powerful aura.
My coworker either does not understand or appreciate my sense of humour, nor appreciate or understand Tinfoil Hat Steve's sound good sense.
It's sad.
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