I don’t normally interrupt my own narrative to deal with these kinds of questions, but a lot of people kept interrupting me with the query:
How much damage could the Accountant do with a butter knife?
The answer to that is both overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time. To put the scene in question in mind, visualize a normally spic and span kitchen. And in the midst of that glistening kitchen would be the image of said Accountant squatting near the counter covered in red fluid, the messy residue puddling on the floors and walls everywhere, causing mass panic to all who happened across the scene.
Now, comes the disappointing aspect where I give the previously disturbing scene context. He was feeling a little thirsty, and wanted to open a carton of beet juice.
But he’d never opened a carton of beet juice before, and there was no one around to help him. So he decided the best course of action was to do it himself. Surely by stabbing in the proper spot would release the valued juices. Most people would’ve started from the top, but the Accountant wanted his drink in a hurry, and wasn’t thinking clearly, so he stabbed in the midsection.
The juice spurted out faster than expected, and to complicate matters further, he didn’t have a glass. Yes, in addition to not knowing how fluids work when their container is ruptured, he didn’t plan ahead for having a drinking glass ready. He just thought, ‘Once I get the carton open, I’ll find something to hold it in later.’
When the beet juice started spilling out faster than expected, he thought, ‘Might as well have a drop or two’, and raised the dribbling carton to his lips. The sooner the juice got inside him, the sooner he’d be able to think. But a stabbed flat side doesn’t make for suitable drinking and the juice ran all over his face. Half-blinded, he searched for a towel, not knowing where the towels were either, getting his sticky hands all over the place.
There was a deafening CRASH as several items spilled from the contents of the drawers and cupboards, which the Accountant tried to pass off fine as, “It’s okay! Nothing fell!” unable to convincingly cover up his increasing ineptitude.
The staff came rushing in and saw before their eyes the awesome vermilion sight I asked you to imagine earlier. The Accountant looked down at his beet juice-stained shirt and declared, “Oh, don’t worry, this isn’t mine.”
Those unreassuring words were supposed to reassure everyone that he didn’t use his own beet juice - just someone else’s, and didn’t waste his own. Not that he ever brought his own, since in addition to not knowing how to properly open a carton of beet juice, he never bought any beet juice in the first place, leaving that pesky detail to everyone else. That excuse didn’t fly because he was the only one who drank beet juice there. This brought up the curious question of just who brought these beet juices in the first place.
“You’re paying for the mess! What’s the damage?”
“Let’s see, counting the juice, the clean up services, mending the scratches, replacing the affected furnishings and allowing for the employee discounts, everything would rack up to an astounding amount of 134,587,901.555 Nōz. Sadly, I only have a 20 on me.”
“Please tell me that’s a reductive figure.”
“Nope. That’s all I’ve got.”
“Why do you carry so little around with you?”
“I’ve never needed more before.”
The thing was, he wasn’t destitute, but was fairly well-off, and was generous, freely giving away money when the need struck his fancy. But he didn’t just give away money at minute intervals. When haggling beggars, he would always ask for change, which frustrated these poor people to no end. If at all possible, he would prefer not to have his altruistic acts noticed. He simply hated being forced to give to charity even when he could afford it. He needed the action to feel natural and would pout about all day upon giving a donation of ten installments instead of one lump sum, even though the same amount was doled out either way.
That’s the thing about Number Crunchers - when it comes to numbers, they’re brilliant, but when it comes to practical matters, they’re hopelessly incompetent.
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