Loser News

The new guy got all bundled up today, went outside, slipped on the ice, and threw his back out. Then he just laid there, rolling back and forth, whining. So I shouted, “Get up, wussy!!” in my most compassionate voice, but he just laid there like a slug.

Anyway, I left him there in the snow and went back inside to have my special chiligurtana lunch (chili with a yogurt and banana chaser), but then Dan (leader of local prison gang, The Dans) came in and said he needed me to go get a tricycle from the warehouse.

Naturally, I thought it was a dream. Like the one I had about a national ban on firearms, testosterone, and health food after Rosie O’Donnell was elected both Pope and President on the same day. So, I just gaffed it off and went back to my epicurean delight, but Dan kept talking about how much the factory manager wanted his trike.

I figured even if I was dreaming, I wasn’t going to be getting any quality snooze time until I appeased my somnabulstic middle management apparition of angst. So, I hopped on the golf cart with my usual passive aggressive panache, drove out to the warehouse (I did stop to nudge the new guy with my bumper, just to make sure he was still breathing), picked up my precious cargo, and delivered it to Dan, who started dancing around it with child-like glee.

I’m not sure if I was more ashamed of the random task I was assigned, or the fact that I got paid $30 an hour to do it.