Friday, October 17, 2014

Short Story: "Resumè"

I was contemplating some tweets the other day, and I soon realized I had a short story on my hands. To copy and paste my Twitter feed is much to arduous and costly a process—even though the verisimilitude would be spectacular—so below I render the tweets in plain text. Enjoy. Oh, also, please take this moment to go ahead and follow me on Twitter. Thanks!



I call this story, “Resumè”

If we had intro music when we arrived at work, WWE style, I'm just saying I think it would really ease slicing off that tiny piece of life.

I’m rocking new pants at work today. New pants really are a form of invincibility. You can’t bring me down today, world—new pants!

Note to self: wear new pants to work every day as hedge against crippling anxiety & sense of meaninglessness in universe.

Further note to self: Send cover letter & resume to universe. I’m a nice, useful guy; get it to stop ignoring you.

Attributes I would list for universe: strong-willed, multitasker, manages stress well, solution focused, ie not a complainer or “worry wart”

Things I would do as an “Office Administrator C” for the universe: MAKE SURE PPL FEEL MY PAIN. Make sure Gary gets his.

Gary said I was being “thoughtless” bc I ate his kosher lunch. Get a clue Gary—I couldnt stop thinking how crappy it was as I choked it down

Gary can’t find his sales report. Maybe it was shredded. Maybe it’s a metaphor for how he shredded my feelings over that whole lunch thing.

Gary is the kind of guy that would do well in a cement plant. Then he wouldn’t get so much attention from Sue who only likes him 4 his hair.

The thing about a guy like Gary is that he really wants you to think he’s a nice guy. Always bringing in donuts—he’s going to leave us.

Gary’s going 2 far—he wants 2 have a reconciliation mtg w/ our manager. Gary, you know how this ends—I let the air out of your tires. Again.

It’s been a long day. I need a good dinner before I go to my hole of an apartment, lie on my mattress, and cry softly into my pillow.

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