When Mondays roll around, I think of this crusty old joke our science teacher told us back in prep school.
This guy dies and goes to hell and when he gets there, Satan’s waiting for the dude, dressed in a slick suit with a big, shit eating grin on his face.
He says to the guy, “The way it works down here is you got three choices how you want to spend the rest of eternity.â€
“Um, ok,†says the guy nervously.
“So choose carefully,†Satan says and winks at the guy.
Satan opens the first door they come to and the guy looks inside and sees all manner of fucked up shit. Demons running amok, torturing people with knives and spears and swords and iron maidens, flaying people alive, impaling them, people screaming, blood and guts everywhere, pretty intense stuff.
Door number two is also full of demons torturing people, only this time around they’re burning the people alive, literally roasting their flesh, tossing them into pools of molten lava, stabbing them with white-hot pokers, the smell of burning flesh everywhere and of course, twice as much screaming as the room before.
“Ready for door number three?†Satan says, grinning.
The man gulps and nods his head.
Satan opens door number three and inside it are literally millions and millions of people standing chest-deep in shit, drinking tea.
“What? Is that it?†says the man. “Damn! I’ll take door number three thanks Satan!â€
“Here’s your tea,†says Satan. “Enjoyâ€.
So off the guy goes, tea in hand, wading through the shit to find a spot where he can drink it when all of a sudden this loud, demonic voice comes over the loudspeaker and says.
“Right you wretched fuckers! Tea break’s over, back on your heads!â€
Da dum. Tssshhh.
That’s what Monday to Friday is. Doing handstands in shit waiting for the sweet release of the weekend where you can finally come up for some air and a cup of nice, warm tea before going back down again.
Best part of it is we’re all in this together. So drink up and let’s dive back in shall we?
On three.
One. Two. Three.
Splat.
-ST
It’s Wednesday and i’ve just gotten back to the Spit-Roast that is the office after a 6 day weekend. So disheartening… the “special ed” kids are moaning like drool-mouthed spectres through the corridors and into the offices. The Shit-Kickers are strapping on the crap-caked boots and limbering up. The third floor, or “The Zoo” as I refer to it sounds like a prison riot just outside the door. Somedays I think I’d rather do the shit handstand…
Aw shucks, it ain’t all that bad, Slick. Or is it…?