Saturday, August 10, 2013

While You Were Out

One of your "boyfriends" came by trying to ask where you were and something about tertiary syphilis. I don't know, I wasn't paying attention.

I told him you had been killed in a tragic industrial accident because the management was too cheap to update your equipment.  He's back in your station wailing and crying and making a spectacle of himself, possibly eating the hair on the floor.  I'm going to take the rest of the afternoon off, all the racket's given me a headache.


  1. Oh dear, he's one from the vault that I cobbled together from pieces of former lovers. Knocking away his teeth I thought would aide in his suction but his brain was abinormal. Don't worry he'll soon drink the Barbra'cide and pass out.

  2. thanks...this is so much better
    than a shitty post-it-note.

  3. If he starts eating the hair off the floor again, just hook him up to the permanent machine and get him a pan of water...that usually gets him back in line.

  4. The people at Amtrak are going to figure out he's been calling in sick just to go see "the girls".