Mr. Bartleby, Mr. Bartleby, please, please calm down. We can't talk about this rationally when you're clearly so visibly upset. Please, have a seat. Have some water. Oh no, I'm afraid I can't sit down, the hot leather upholstery will stick to my legs.

Again, I'm very sorry for presenting my proposal to the board of directors in my smiley-face boxer shorts. Allow me to explain! Please put yourself in my shoes (also, for the moment, temporarily missing.) Ahem.

This morning was a beautiful day, crisp and clear, the kind of day where the mountains stood stark on the horizon with bleached white tips protruding into a clear deep blue sky. I had all the windows down in my car as I drove in. Confidence was high. I felt good, sir. I felt the wind in what's left of my hair and my soul was warmed with the confidence that all of mother nature was with me.

As I arrived in the office I found that, in honor of this afternoon's meeting, we had splurged on gourmet coffee. I had not two but three cups -- the murky bitterness tinged with sweet syrup, combined with my elated mood, it was just too much. I soon established what you might call a "buzz." After supplementing my beverages with a rich creamy cheese danish, I passed beyond "buzz" and entered into what you might call a caffeine and sugar "high."

I opened all the blinds in my office and flooded it with warm sunshine. Soon the temperature rose and I opened the window, inviting within a fresh cool breeze. I was in love with the world, and the world loved me. I had found a humble, shimmering bubble of paradise on Earth.

So when Johnstone challenged me to a quick game of Worms Armageddon before the board meeting, I accepted immediately, rife with the prospect of assured victory!

It was a four-on-four worm deathmatch, sir, with a 30 second time limit per move. My position started off the worse and I was immediately napalmed into a small gorge. But sir, I'm a fighter, and charged with the energies of coffee and sunlight I fired off a bazooka shot that decimated one of his worms and sent it into the drink with one hit.

I won't bore you with the details -- the battle was grim, and only my morning's elation held the shadowy specter of defeat at bay. Then as zero hour approached, a spectacular grapple maneuver allowed me to grab a secret resupply crate and safely ensconce myself beneath a small ridge in one move. It was ballsy, but at the end of it, each of us had two worms left ... but only I possessed THE SUPER SHEEP.

At this point, his two weakened worms were sitting right next to each other, and mine were on opposite ends of the board. He pulled out a homing missile and I laughed joyously. I knew that even though he could easily kill either one of my worms, the remaining worm would OBLITERATE him with the super sheep, as inalienably as the sun always sets. "Do all you can, Johnstone," I boasted, then spat out those fateful words: "you cannot possibly defeat me."

Sir, you understand, whilst I uttered those words at Johnstone, it was FATE ITSELF that I taunted! I rue the day!

Johnstone asked if I wanted to wager on that. Of course I wanted to. He promised to give me his beloved Dilbert Coffee mug if he won, but in return, I wagered him ...my pants.

With ease he dispatched of one of my worms. The impetus was all mine. I withdrew ... the sheep. My blood tingled with adrenaline when I heard him cry out in anguish, beholding the sacred vision of my wooly redeemer! "Prepare ... to die ... Johnstone!" I cackled, letting the animal loose. It hopped over a ridge and burst into the air, his mighty red cape shimmering as he flew...

Suddenly, a shadow passed over my face -- a stray cloud had blotted out my perfect sun! Horrified, I glanced over, just in time to see that a window cleaner was standing on my balcony. At that very moment he sprayed my face with cleaning solution, not realizing that I'd opened my window! I cried out in pain!

But I was still in control of my sheep, and frantically I hit my arrow keys with a quivering hand, directing the sheep toward his egregious destiny. Then, as the window cleaner thrust himself through my window to make sure I was all right, he bumped the recline controls on my office chair, hurtling me forward and onto the floor. But my burning, tortured eyeballs never glimpsed away from my flying sheep! My quivering, tormented hand never left the keyboard! I ... was ... determined! The sheep swooped! He soared! He flipped! He whooshed! And ... HE SLAMMED DIRECTLY INTO MY TARGET!

Both of Johnstone's hated worms flipped into the air, screaming. One was dead even before he hit the drink. The other ... the other worm ... Oh God the other worm! He hurtled through the air and landed next to mine, with a mere 2 hit points left. Johnstone had survived! With supreme horror I watched as he pulled out a baseball bat and finished the job. I had lost. I had lost. Lost my dignity. Lost my paradise on earth. Lost ... my pants.

So there you have it. Sorry about the meeting.