Sunday, June 3, 2012

A Moment Of Whimsy, A Reflection Of Insanity

I woke up yesterday morning at 9:11. I was astonished. My aging body no longer allows me the indulgence of luxuriant sleep. I am almost always up by 7:00, most assuredly against my will.
Admittedly it was the perfect day to sleep late; a rainy June morning a little on the cool side. Raindrop rhythm caressed my sleeping mind.
I left for work at 11:30 in a brain fog and stayed that way throughout my shift. I kept wondering what events had conspired to result in that level of fatigue.
Then it hit me. What a day I had on Friday.
I work for a man named Bruno. What image does the name Bruno conjure up in your mind?
I was rambling around the store on Friday doing the best job I could possibly do with my limited capabilities, but evidently it wasn't good enough for my boss. He began following me around with a bullwhip, viciously carving creases in my back. "Move faster, grab more cases, stock more bottles. Face, Face, Face!" Apparently there is no Liquor Commission rule against blood soaked work shirts, which amazes me considering the fact that they issue memos cautioning against gossiping.
Just when I was about to break down, Bruno would pat me on the back and tell me I was doing a good job. This brought me no comfort.
When I reached the point of exhaustion, I began crawling around on my hands and knees, dragging cases of booze behind me with a crudely fashioned rope bit in my mouth, the other end looped around the precious product.
An occasional swift kick to the butt kept me motivated. I despise his Mexican pointy boots.
When I could no longer do that, Bruno decided that my proximity to the floor presented a perfect opportunity. He had me wash and wax the floor by hand. Thankfully it only took me two hours.
The final degradation was to finish my shift at the register. I was incoherent at this point but the customers didn't notice. This is testimony to the gibberish we are forced to repeat 10,00 times a day.
I got home desperately in need of comfort from my lovely wife. I opened the sliders and she was there to greet me.
With a punch to the face. I fell over backwards, tripping over the ancient recliner and rolling on to my belly. After struggling to my feet and spitting out two teeth, I asked her what the hell I did to deserve that.
She said "Nothing yet, but I know you are going to say or do something stupid sometime tonight and I wanted you to know where I stand in advance."
Then she patted me on the back and told me she loves me.
This brought me no comfort.
I can tell you with absolute honesty that I much prefer, indeed I pray, in the future, to awake at 7:00 a.m.

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