At work

I'm deathly bored. They are having me draft minutes to a board meeting. Let me tell you, it is story writing taken down to it's most card board level. Kind of like eating Grape-Nuts' cereal straight from the box.

I feel like The 37th chapter of Les Miserables. Once Jean ValJean and the Inspector have died, Corsette has married Marius, the scene switches to Dat sitting at his desk rubbing his computer glared sore eyes. He looks at his plants that offer him comfort and starts talking to one of them. "You are very cheery today, Ms. Ficcus tree." He continues typing minutes to a board meeting he has never been to. Suits walk in an out of his office. One of them throws a peanut at his mouth and says, "good, paralegal."

He opens his desk draw and looks at a picture of a tropical paradise on a Caribbean island. AS He dreams and lets out a few awkward sighs, a bird flys into his office and drops a dupper of a shit on his head. The horror in Dat's face ignites, he turns red and raises his hands clasp together up towards the florescent lights of his office and says, "BY JOVE, It's a sign!"