Alone at Work

It is a troublesome day. I sit, alone at my workstation on a Saturday morning, attempting to restore my credibility at the office. I have been spending more time than usual in bed during normal working hours, with a fever. The fever passes daily at 5:00, and I feel refreshed and happy. The doctor seems to think that I have a nervous condition, which is preventing me from attending to my office duties. "Relax," he says, "just drink less coffee and try giving exercise a shot." So I took up jogging, only to be spotted by my boss one evening. "You don’t look so feverish to me." So here I am on Saturday trying to restore my credibility. 

As I proudly glance over my completed work, I begin to imagine the reactions that my colleagues will provide during the first of the month presentations. I see their faces twist in disgust and hear the muffled sounds of laughter as I realize my reputation has not been renewed at all. My hands tremble and I notice that all I have accomplished is writing this stupid blog.

                                                                                               

October

Today is October.

It is the first day of my friend’s retirement. It is the perfect day for a retirement.
I got sad and wrote a haiku.

September is gone.
While she is carving pumpkins
This desk is empty.

The Race of my Life.

I am a runner and I run all terrains. As a novice, I began by running loops on high school tracks. My appetite for running grew into something insatiable and I threw myself into the sport, waking up at insane hours, drinking raw eggs, and even running in snow and ice. I was thrilled by each day’s challenge of topping my previous times. Eventually, my abilities plateaued and boredom set in so I threw my shoes into the woods.

One day I was visited at my home by a really famous runner. He was wearing all these gold medals and had about a hundred American flags draped all over his incredible runner’s physique. He asked if these were my shoes (he was holding them in his hands) and asked if I’d like to go for a run. We ran all across the fruited planes of our beautiful country. I saw majestic mountains and breathed in the nostalgia of my youth as we crossed beaches. In his infinite wisdom, he explained to me without even saying a word that my problem was lack of scenery. To enjoy the sport to the fullest, I was going to have to spice things up. So, I said farewell to the old high school track and started running on nature trails, through the city and into the mountains.

"Mothers covered their children's eyes while I huffed glue before running a 10k"

In time, even this became dull. I attempted new things, like running around in people’s gardens. Also, I would I run through stalks of corn at night, like they do in frightening movies. I pretended to be Rocky Balboa training for a fight using some sort of cockeyed non-traditional technique like hiding on a farm and waiting until some unsuspecting rabbit was just about to pierce a carrot with its treacherous teeth. Then I would take off as fast as I could in his direction. Sure, rabbits are faster than humans but my dedication toward training had rewarded me with skills beyond the abilities of any vermin. Seeking to level the playing field, I intentionally compromised my abilities by smoking pipes whilst running. Mothers covered their children’s eyes while I huffed glue before running a 10K. And, rather than reaching for a cup of thirst-quenching water, I would do keg stands during marathons. This too, became boring.

So I visited the famous runner’s house with my shoes to say, “You can have these back. I’m not even the least bit interested in what you have to say in spite of your precious accolades and accomplishments.” I had written this down in case I forgot it when he opened the door, because I always get nervous before I confront someone about what stupid idiot they are. When the door opened I was not greeted by an athlete of any sort, but by the grim reaper. I ran like hell.

The Race of my Life.

Weeding

In my yard there are many weeds. They are invasive and I dislike them.

One morning, in an attempt to foil these unsightly nuisances, I apply a selective herbicide to their leafy stalks by use of a broadcast spreading device. The granules cling to the sticky dew where they will begin the wonderful process of injecting their virulent properties into the unsuspecting pests. I imagine the following morning: skipping with delight amongst their wilted remains. I am satisfied.

That evening as I retire, I am visited by an apparition of a bleeding dandelion. I flee to the lawn where an air-drawn bottle of Round-Up™ leads me to my neighbor’s yard. A crown sits atop the luscious Zoysia. The grass is greener.

Bad Dream

Last night, I experienced a most dreadful sort of nightmare.

It began with me being subjected to a series of awkward but rather mundane experiences: discovering that the power had been disconnected, then noticing a leak coming from the lavatory…malfunctioning utilities tend to provide me with a tremendous degree of anxiety.

Suddenly, I found myself clearing brush from the garden. This is where the most horrible part of the nightmare begins so please, prepare yourself.

I spotted a spider! Not just any spider, but a tarantula-esque one that was as big as my fist! Be advised that this dream is about to become unnaturally terrifying.

The spider was securing milk from the teat of another, much larger spider. That spider was as big as a basketball. It had the requisite demonic fangs for striking fear into the heart of its prey before sucking out its eternal soul. But that is not all, NOT EVEN BY A LONG SHOT. It also had synthetic teddy bear eyes that spun around in little circles, except they were not dark and plastic but yellow and made of cartoon.

Distressed, I quickly fumbled for the camera phone. I somehow managed to press my trembling fingers against the REC button just as the monster’s spinnerets began firing silk web all over my body.

Fortunately, it was in this instant that I was awoken. I scrambled for the phone with the obvious intention of uploading footage onto the internet. This is where things turn sour. Shockingly, dreams are non-transferable onto ordinary storage devices like camera phones.

I phoned the local news station about my scientific discovery. But they were not interested in the slightest at my dream. They told me that I was a very peculiar man and that they had no interest in reporting silly dreams on the nightly news. I told them that basketball-sized spiders were more threatening to humanity than the stupid swine flu, but they put the phone down on me!

Frustrated, I sought to loosen up a bit with a strong drink. I climbed out of the bed intending to first relieve myself when I noticed the water all over the bathroom floor.