I have met the enemy and they are Minions.
I didn’t expect to start 2018 like this, huddled over my desk, jaw clenched in righteous anger as my furious fingers fly across the keyboard. I didn’t expect to tackle my yellow nemesis. But circumstances have forced my hand. Blame Devin.
When I returned to work on Jan. 3 (a date that will live in infamy), I was filled with misplaced optimism. I was excited to see my co-workers and hear how they’d spent their Christmas break. I was ready to get back to the daily grind and learn more about Yorkton. I was all set to leave 2017 in the dust and set out on a new adventure.
But fate had other plans.
When I entered the office, my co-workers were oddly quiet. Some didn’t meet my gaze. They knew what was coming.
I walked to my desk and I saw my computer covered in yellow wrapping paper. My barely-awake brain was still addled from getting up early after two weeks of sleeping in, so I didn’t fully registered what I was seeing. But when I sat down in my chair, I was jolted awake. I was staring at pure evil:
Minions.
They were everywhere. Minion-patterned wrapping paper covered my computer screen, my books, my contact sheets, all of it. Tiny Minions clung to my computer. A massive Minion doll was squeezing my camera in a fiendish hug. Ferbies were also there for some reason. I was surrounded.
Those yellow monstrosities stared at me with their soulless eyes and maniacal grins. Their gaping mouths exposed their tombstone-shaped teeth, threatening to devour me. Gazing into a Minion is like gazing into the pits of Hell.
I brought this upon myself.
I’ve always despised Minions. Everything about them disgusts me. Their design, their voices, their haunting laughter; it’s all hideous. Minions make me nauseous.
But I don’t just object to them on aesthetic grounds. There’s something deeply, existentially terrifying about Minions. These yellow freaks reveal the emptiness of modern culture.
Minions are everywhere. Commercials, movies, your aunt’s Facebook feed. They are the mascot for the 2010s. We have chosen them as our representatives.
What does that say about us? What kind of warped society would worship something as monstrous as the Minions? They raise disturbing questions. The smiling Minion is the dark void from which we can’t look away.
Alright, maybe that’s too dark. But I still think Minions are trash. Unfortunately, I told my co-worker Devin that I hate the yellow demons. He’s taken it upon himself to litter my desk with Minions every day. For the last month, I’ve come to work to find an army of Minions staring at me.
On Jan. 3, Devin conspired to take his Minions mockery to the next level. He plunged me into a personal nightmare. What a way to start 2018. I salute his ingenuity.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go plan an elaborate and exquisite revenge.
