Motherfucker's Day
Crouched in the dense brush of Feralas, I studied my prey, waiting for
the most assholish time to strike. Nimble little elf, picking his way
around the ogre encampment, his pet monkey rounding them up and doing
his work for him.
NOW.
I charged, wreathed in shadowy havoc! A piercing cry erupted as his
body warped and wracked in pain from my curse. I grunted and cackled
as I melted his sculpted, girly-boy face away in thick steaming gobbets.
Stunned, his bow clattered to the ground. Casting his monkey away in
terror, I moved in to finish the skull-fucking proper, when the phone
rang.
"Hey Ian, are you coming in to work today?"
Urr. I didn't know? Someone normally calls me about this thing.
"Well, just come in when you can." *click*
Fucking fuckity fuck fuck. I did want to be spared the indignity
of visiting Granmamma and Granpappa, but not like this. Not like this.
I'd prefer my giblets ground and minced and fed back to me than
brave the mall on Mother's Day. That day of the year when we honor
the fleshy fount of life by holding blow out sales and stupefying
deals. To top it all off, they decided to call me AN HOUR AND A HALF
after I was scheduled to be there. Poorly timed, it took me yet
another 2 and a half hours to get there. Whereupon I was beset by
miserable wretches, mewling for me to find them this and that,
or harassing me for all this information that I, AS AN INDUSTRY INSIDER,
SHOULD KNOW!
No shit. I'm an industry insider now. People told me this when I couldn't
answer their insipid queries. Why someone with access to such highly sought-
after information and technical expertise is making only 6.47 an hour shall
remain a mystery until the day I can have this part of my memory laser
removed from my brain. While all this badgering went on, my comrades,
Dorkus and Malorkus, diddled each other in front of the counter and bragged
about how hungover they were from last night's revelries. Come now, boys.
You get drunk, what, once, twice a week? Its business as usual here.
Alcohol remains the most efficient form of time travel I've found.
I don't like today! Let's sip ahead to a week later, see if that's
any better.
Nnnnnope, schtill pretty ugly. Better drink some more.
AAAGh, is it the 27th already?
Driver, shtop this couch so I can get off. I like it here just fine.
the most assholish time to strike. Nimble little elf, picking his way
around the ogre encampment, his pet monkey rounding them up and doing
his work for him.
NOW.
I charged, wreathed in shadowy havoc! A piercing cry erupted as his
body warped and wracked in pain from my curse. I grunted and cackled
as I melted his sculpted, girly-boy face away in thick steaming gobbets.
Stunned, his bow clattered to the ground. Casting his monkey away in
terror, I moved in to finish the skull-fucking proper, when the phone
rang.
"Hey Ian, are you coming in to work today?"
Urr. I didn't know? Someone normally calls me about this thing.
"Well, just come in when you can." *click*
Fucking fuckity fuck fuck. I did want to be spared the indignity
of visiting Granmamma and Granpappa, but not like this. Not like this.
I'd prefer my giblets ground and minced and fed back to me than
brave the mall on Mother's Day. That day of the year when we honor
the fleshy fount of life by holding blow out sales and stupefying
deals. To top it all off, they decided to call me AN HOUR AND A HALF
after I was scheduled to be there. Poorly timed, it took me yet
another 2 and a half hours to get there. Whereupon I was beset by
miserable wretches, mewling for me to find them this and that,
or harassing me for all this information that I, AS AN INDUSTRY INSIDER,
SHOULD KNOW!
No shit. I'm an industry insider now. People told me this when I couldn't
answer their insipid queries. Why someone with access to such highly sought-
after information and technical expertise is making only 6.47 an hour shall
remain a mystery until the day I can have this part of my memory laser
removed from my brain. While all this badgering went on, my comrades,
Dorkus and Malorkus, diddled each other in front of the counter and bragged
about how hungover they were from last night's revelries. Come now, boys.
You get drunk, what, once, twice a week? Its business as usual here.
Alcohol remains the most efficient form of time travel I've found.
I don't like today! Let's sip ahead to a week later, see if that's
any better.
Nnnnnope, schtill pretty ugly. Better drink some more.
AAAGh, is it the 27th already?
Driver, shtop this couch so I can get off. I like it here just fine.