The Adventures of Wormwartt cont...

Wormwartt pounded his fist into the side of the tall black book shelf that lined Mike’s office and slid down to sit in the corner that it formed with the wall. His face contorted in sullen anger, he mulled over the consequences the skinny twirp should suffer for the blow he had previously inflicted. It being the lunch-hour, Wormwartt had plenty of time to think it over. After all, Mike was off eating lunch with that other chump, David. Wormwartt scowled at the thought. He could not stand David! He was just as bad as Mike—just as sickeningly nice and clean and well-kept (gag him)! That’s OK. At least he was in the other room—most of the time.

What to do to Mike…hmm. He could do the usual moving around of items on Mike’s desk to make him think that someone had come into his office, but no (sigh)—that just didn’t seem mean enough. Hmm. Wormwartt, starting to get bored of all this thinking, began to chip away at some paint that was peeling just behind the book shelf. His scaly fingernails dug into the paint and dug and dug.

Slowly, an evil grin began to spread across Wormwartt’s face. He started digging faster and faster. Finally he stopped when the hole was just the perfect size. Wormwartt stood back to admire his work and crossed his arms in satisfaction. Now all he had to do was find some mice…