Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Thursday, June 23, 2005

Trench Warfare

Work is piling up relentlessly. I'm having trouble keeping up. I'm poking my head above water right now for a brief moment to inhale some muggy air and witness the sunlight. When I return to the murky depths of employment undertow, I'll box away mutant crabs for possession of my genitals. I'll punch radioactive fish in the gills to keep my earlobes. I'll wrestle giant squid trying to contort me and stretch my ligaments. I'll flee electric eels and manta rays intent upon zapping me prone for slow nibbling consumption. It's a good thing urchins have no eyes or they'd burr all over my ass. I have no allies. I must continue to move with fluid precision to dodge the vicious assault of the aquatic menagerie intent on hooking me by the lip and dragging me down deep to gurgling asphyxiation and wet decay.

See you tomorrow. I hope.
11:33 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm


June 23, 2005 1:41 PM, Blogger Floyd said...

Sounds like you need yourself a scuba suit, my friend. OOOOO...can I call you Scuba Steve?

June 23, 2005 2:12 PM, Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

If you get swallowed by a whale, will your wireless still work so you can blog occasionally? I sure hope so; I hate having to amend my favorites list.

June 23, 2005 6:31 PM, Blogger The Everglades said...

I'm swimming in the undertow as well, but when the whistle blows 5:00, I'm out of my cube without question.

June 23, 2005 9:37 PM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

I think in this case you must do as young Ramon did: Heave the Black Pearl back into the navy depths, appeasing Manta Diablo and allowing your father's soul to rest easy.

(Or get shitfaced. One or the other.)

June 24, 2005 2:08 PM, Anonymous sarcastrix said...

I hear you. I feel your pain. Or wahtever...


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