the mullet is dead; long live the mullet!

The office mullet is no more. Office Mulletee has flirted with disaster before. Pruning his mullet to a dangerous, near non-mullet state, feathering the top, disguising the mullet's length and width. Was he obscuring the mullety goodness? I don't know, but the mullet would have none of that insolence and soon returned to its full glory. Long the days I thought her say, but now . . . now, alas, she is gone. I called her Susan.

Surely this is much more difficult for me to swallow than the mulletee OR Susan herself. Mulletee wasn't JUST a co-worker; he was a "character." A character about which I could tell stories to my loved ones. A character whose every white see-through dress shirt provided a laundry list of hilarity. A character whose awkward jokes and beady eyes made great campfire tales. A character whose stories all began with, "So mullet guy . . . "

No sans Susan, Mulletee has been demoted to just a co-worker. No longer do his Lil' Debbie snackcake binges seem so charming. No longer do I count the cigarette breaks. And most horribly, no longer do I see the soft Lake Erie breezes blowing through his proud mane.

Farewell Susan . . . until we meet again.