in the Amazonian Slave Mines

>be me, bonky
>i’m with my pal pickle homer
>we’re solving captchas
>we’re captcha slaves
>we were captcha’d
>pickle homer is having a hard time solving a captcha
>he keeps whispering at me to come over and help
>i whisper back to leave me alone
>i whisper that we're not supposed to be talking
>i whisper that we're going to get in trouble
>the captcha ogre at the front of the class hears us
>he rolls out of his animal skin couch, sending insects scurrying
>his belt slides around his giant belly as he lumbers over to us
>i can see his belly button
>pickle homer is getting really scared
>he whispers that we’re in big trouble
>he whispers that he’s going to report us to amazon overlord jeff bezos
>i whisper that i'm sorry
>he whispers that i'm a bad boy
>the captcha ogre doesn't speak english or any known language
>he burps and burbles some ogre language at us
>his breath smells like a really sad and desperate cow farm
>we’re wretching
>pickle homer says “u smell like a fart”
>i can’t believe it
>i’m stunned
>i can’t believe he just told the captcha ogre he smells like a fart
>the captcha ogre grabs pickle homer
>he throws him into the air
>pickle homer screams
>he lands on his back
>the captcha ogre is standing over him
>he’s got a giant machete
>i think "he's going to chop pickle homer's head off"
>pickle homer is screaming
>he’s screaming "i’m sorry"
>the captcha ogre is intensely focused on pickle homer
>it’s like he’s hypnotized
>he’s hypnotized by pickle homer
>he’s hypnotized by pickle homer’s screams
>i take the opportunity to insert my finger into the captcha ogres bellybutton
>this gross invasion of privacy horrifies me, but i am drawn to it like a moth to flame
>it's warm and deep
>i can feel the captcha ogre's heart beating in it
>my finger fits perfectly inside
>it's like the captcha ogre's bellybutton was made for my finger
>i look up
>the captcha ogre is looking down at me
>he’s looking down at my finger
>i try to say i'm sorry
>but the words can't quite escape my quivering lips
>it's perfectly silent
>all the captcha slaves have stopped to watch us
>i pull my finger out
>it makes a little pop
>pop!
>i'm still looking up at the captcha ogre
>but
>i smell my finger
>i smell my finger and it smells like a fart
>my finger errantly wanders into my mouth
>i'm still looking up at the captcha ogre
>to my surprise
>he leaves
>he just walks out of the room
>we're all stunned
>later on it turns out the captcha ogre went straight to human resources
>i'm being sued for sexual harassment in the workplace
>i show up to court
>the captcha ogre wears a full-length shirt now
>i can't see its belly button
>this is the cruelest stroke of all