Monday, 12 July 2010

P.M. ... 12/07/2010

As usual, 4days. Or 96 hours. Or 5760 minutes. Or 345600 seconds. Gentlefolk, these numbers are staggering. Especially the seconds estimation. One can go mad in that kind of time. Or in my case, become sane. But, no matter, it is our TL. In 345600 seconds we shall be temporarily relieved.
How did monday go? Did she do her usual thing and upset you all? Mondays give me a slight bi-polar disorder. Its obvious I do my Jekyll and Hyde thing on mondays, even my dog notices. Every other day of the week, as soon as she sees me, she does what every dog does and immediately goes beserk. Its like she hasn't seen me in months. On mondays however, she ignores me completely. I walk into the house, and there she is, lying down, pretending not to notice I'm back. I think I've upset her many a time on mondays, she's getting payback.
Not only is this day and this job ruining my sex life with human females, it has marred my relationship with the only girl who loves me unconditionally. I have tried to explain the intricacies behing my monday disorder to her, but alas, we cannot communicate. She's a dog. Obviously.
Today, in my cubicle, I realised I am a very dangerous man. This makes absolutely no sense, but bear with me. My bank is a prison. The board of directors are the state and governors. My boss is the warden, in charge of all the prisoners. And the security guards..., okay that one's kind of obvious. But let us continue. There are inmates who get benefits for good behaviour. They the ones with reasonable salary packages and working hours. These inmates, by virtue of their compliances with the authorities, have nicer desk, friendlier colleagues and better parking spaces. They've served their time, blended into the system and sucked all the dick they had to. They dropped the soap times without number, thus anal rape is no longer a thing of fear.
And then there are the dangerous criminals. The ones who must be kept on a leash, for noone knows when they might snap. These individuals do not get any extra benefits, because they are rebels. They go against the laid down rules and refuse to bend over. Fuck it, they don't even shower. If and when they do, they fully expect the system to drop the soap. They should be the ones doing the fucking. Its what bad asses do. And so as punishment for their non-compliance, they are not rewarded as well as the goody-two-shoes fuck boys. The most dangerous of these psychos is yours truly. I'm so gangsta, I'm constantly locked in solitary confinement. My cubicle. My 4x10 cell. This is where I am incacerated daily, in a bid to control my mind.
The fluorescent lights above me keep flickering, the walls and the ceilings are the same fucking colour. Its all an attempt to break me. And they nearly succeeded last week. Luckily however, my need to be mental far surpasses their need for my sanity.
I will never give in. I will keep being the bad ass inmate I am. The system can blow me. I need the action if nothing else. I'm going to keep doing what I do, regardless. One day, ill arrange a jail break Micheal Scofield will be proud off. And when I'm finally a free man, I shall go back, walk into the building with my head high, go up to my boss and shake his hand. And then, just when his guard is down, ill kick the sonofabich in the balls! Facking bastards.
I don't honestly know when I shall be back gentlefolk, I cannot guarantee wednesday. But we will be talking again soon. Till then good people...
I am Womilee.

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