Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Insect Necklace

I was told late Monday afternoon that the office must be gleaming and perfect by today, Wednesday. A tall order. I surveyed the task before me. No problem.

I spied a heap of junked computer shells encrusted with dust and grime. Some giddy ass had sprayed the mound with silicone early last year. Since then, unsuspecting ants and flies have accidentally glued themselves to it. This unnatural electronic flypaper had to be killed. Rubber gloves were not sufficient for this filth, so I wore a full body condom. Well, garbage bags and rubber bands. Dumpsterized. I could do nothing about the tan stain on the carpet, which is shaped like Sri Lanka. But larger.

My next task was to pull a workbench away from a wall. A crafty employee had fashioned it from knotty plywood and bent nails two years ago. When I dragged it away from the corner, out tumbled a nest of knotted cabling and flickering power strips. I began to untangle the unwieldy mess when a I heard a rustling. Startled, I threw the mass to the floor. A dozen chittering earwigs scuttled from the core. Flourescent light struck their ebony carpapaces and they ran for darkness with frantic desperation. I let them go. They only crawl in children's ears and I'm a grownup, so they pose no threat to my hearing.

I untangled the knotted cabling and secured it with clamps and ties. It looked official. My final task was easy. Box things. Anything that sat loose, forlorn, dejected, upside down, useless, broken, obsolete, or just plain offensive went into a box. Even if we're filthy packrats with pounds of useless fuck, we'll pretend to be organized packrats. After that all I had to do was use the internet to translate some strident verbiage into Polish for the cleaning guy. He vacuumed with fervent enthusiasm. I can tell.

Looks good.
10:22 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm


March 30, 2005 12:22 PM, Anonymous Old Horsetail Snake said...

When those dozen earwigs turn into 2 million earwigs, they won't seem so Lilliputian. Don't say you weren't warned.

March 30, 2005 12:33 PM, Blogger Other Brother said...

I will gladly accept anything from the piles of fuck that can be converted into a deer feeder. Use your imagination.

March 30, 2005 10:12 PM, Blogger Kerouaced said...

The picture you painted with this one was great. I felt like I was there and you made it sound fun!

Also, thanks for the feedback. I think you were right with your initial analysis. The prologue needs tweaked a bit more.

March 30, 2005 11:14 PM, Blogger You've Got What I Need... said...

It's never wise to underestimate earwigs. Nasty little things.

March 31, 2005 12:26 AM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

Steve, when I assemble my team of lovable misfits who have to: save the world/feud with the rich boy frat/put on a high school dance within town limits - your name is going to the top of a very short list for surly technician and electronic gadgetry guy with a heart of gold.


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