A Civil Service Love Story part 2: They see me trollin'

Last time in the Civil Service...

The war was harsh, milk was spilled, tears were shed, our parents told us there was no point in crying over it, but they didn't know man, they weren't there. Then something incredible happened. We put down our weapons and in the heart of no man's land we made something incredible - a Civil Service Love Story. And now for it's conclusion, but I must warn you dear reader, not all things can end in sugar-ponies and rainbow-hearts. Sometimes the milk can... curdle.

At last I left you, there was at least three participants; a battle-worn Policy Advisor with a heart full of hope (me), A white-card guy (or girl?) with the ability to pun so well that I'm convinced that he(she?) is channeling the ghost of Bob Monkhouse (let's call them Bob(ette)) and a yellow post-it note girl (or guy?) who gets easily confused and likes to represent Israel. I'd deduced that Bob(ette) liked to take what I'd done and add to in a slightly flirty fashion - think:

"Anything you can do I can do better, I can do anything better than you."

"No you can't "

"Yes I can"

"No you can't Bob(ette)..." 

"...Yes I can."

Damn! Bob(ette) had made a model of the friend-ship. Needless to say I was furious; (S)he'd made the leap from 2D goodwill to 3D. But for all my jealousy I couldn't help but appreciate the gravity of this gesture, the good intentions were literally (figuratively.. shut up) leaping from the page. But this lasted maybe five seconds before I decided to get childish:

The crane... Japanese symbol of naval warfare

Maybe it was the fact that I'd violated the spirit of friendship, maybe it was a cruel reminder that the universe is a cold and uncaring place or maybe someone out there thinks a fridge should just be a fridge, but the worst happened:

Horrific, I know

Someone destroyed the notes! I couldn't believe it... who was this hateful individual and what was their purpose?

It was at this point something in me changed. Up until now, whenever I've been threatened I try to play dead or like, that lizard that can snap off its own tail to distract predators, I try to rip off my arm (which If you've seen you can't help but deny is very distracting). But now I'd found something worth fighting for, so I decided to go revolutionary:

 Oppa Gaelic style

It didn't take long to receive a response. No one likes to take a tea break only to see William Wallace screaming at them:

God... is that you?

I'm not sure who this new addition was... he(she) seemed somewhat fatalistic but they were willing to do what's right in the face of injustice so we struck an uneasy truce (in retrospect, their tone seems as if it's The Voice of the Civil Service speaking to me). Horribly, that had this effect on Bob(ette):

Having only just negotiated a truce with the Civil Service, I was naturally feeling a bit worn down. So I freaked out emotionally:

Being a little more level headed than me, s(he) suggested something more reasonable:

But then caved:

It was a good effort, but I'll be damned if I'm being outshone in the last round:

Dinosaur Detective... coming September 2013... get hyped.

But in all my competitive fervor, I missed a very important detail on Bob(ette)'s last note:

Now I'd joked that what s(he) was doing was a bit flirty but this was something else...

I had no idea whether Bob(ette) was a Bob or an Ette, a ghost of a well-loved comedian, a manifestation of people's love for their milk or the fridge come to life. What was I to do, should I call?

Find out in Part 3....

..

..

..

..

..

Oh sod it, I'll tell you now, here's the transcript:

*Ring ring*

Bob(ette):

 Hello? (Man's voice)

George:

 Hey, is this the guy from the fridge?

Bob (definitely Bob now):

 ...

George:

 Fridge guy?

Bob:

 Uh... yes, that's me

George: 

Ha! I hope you weren't expecting a beautiful woman to be calling...

Bob:

 Haha... uh..

George:

Uh, wow, yeah, well that was fun... are you still working here?

Bob:
No, No, I've left.

George:

That's a shame, hey this was -

*HANGS UP*

George:

...Whuuuuut

I sat there in shock. Bob had thought I was a woman this whole time. How could he think that? I draw the most manly.. wait. Pikachu, yeah that's pretty cute... a love heart with "I choose you too", yeah that's pretty girly... a friend-ship with a smily face, yeah that's not exactly something a lumberjack would draw... my handwriting isn't particularly masculine either. This whole time I was just trying to savor friendship against the backdrop of war, but in actual fact I was leading Bob on. I'd become... a real life internet troll. Like those guys who pretend to be 16 year old girls on chat sites... but in a fridge.

Well I told you that not all love stories can end well. Sometimes you think that special person you've made a connection with, despite all odds, is actually just me - drawing dragons and pirate ships on milk cartons. But there was still a lot left to figure out. Bob might have fled the scene but who was yellow post-it girl(guy?), had I really been contacted by the Voice of the Civil Service? Which tyrant had disposed of all our notes? Had any of this actually prevented my milk from being stolen? Tune in next time, for more tales from the civil service.

Edit: If Bob can see this: I'm super sorry and your death star is awesome.