I’m a baby when I get sick and I’m officially sick and of course, The World’s Largest Telecommunications Company ‘s attendance policy is unforgiving and draconian. So I’ll be forced to drag my sorry carcass into work at 1pm today and hope someone has the caring nature to roll me over on my side so I don’t swallow my tongue. No, I’m really sick.
If I had the energy to put some media in this post of Juda Ben Hur being whipped as he the other slaves row the ship I would but I’m near death… The only way our galley managers will send us home is if we spontaneously sanguiate from our eyes or we start to foam at the mouth. I hate being sick and I’ve probably have Ebola and I wouldn’t be surprised if I have rabies… Mr. Toonce was acting a little wild this morning wanting out at 2:30.
Anyway, my funeral plans are simple and all my friends and followers are invited. I would advise you to bring rubber boots. I want my body placed in a linen body bag in the town square. Next, a 100, not 99, elephants will trample my body to mush. Then everyone will get a chance to operate the two inch fire hose to wash what’s left into the street drain. Permits might be required.
Well nice knowing everybody. I’m going to close my eyes and start chugging my bottle of DayQuil until I’m over-medicated and maybe just maybe my supervisor will see I am unsafe to operate a company truck… Why do I have to die? This too will pass