This is Bob. Bob appeared on my desk one morning, with no
explanation. His friends appeared on my coworkers' desks, too! I
stuck Bob right here, on my computer, so that I could glance at him
while I'm working. Look at Bob there, so happy. You can't help but
be cheered.
Look at Bob. So happy. All he does is stand there on my computer
and smile. He cheers me up. That's all he does. It's like his job.
His job is to stand there and help others to be happy by being happy
himself. Always so happy. So fucking happy, with his job that makes
him happy. Every day, genuinely happy with his place in the world. No
crushing defeat by the forces of life for Bob, NoSiree! He doesn't
have a degree that he's never used, he hasn't wasted the last year of
his life in this dead-end job so that he could 
pay rent in this
painful, boring town with just enough left over to buy enough beer to
keep him numb to his own life that he drinks with friends that would
cut his throat for a donut. Nope, Bob is just happy, happy, happy, and
never has to see his old friends breeze through town just visiting with
their lives and their families and their accomplishments. Bob doesn't
need that, because Bob is happy and made of plastic and happy!
I understand my coworkers' reaction more and more every day.
