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Getting Fired

There was another meeting today. I sat next to a guy I didn't know too well, but had seen around before. We nodded upon my sitting. I commented on the weather. It's cold out. The cold weather burns calories fast, and I was feeling peckish. Seeing as how there weren't any g.d. muffins, I went ahead and ate one of his papers. He looked rather befuddled, lol. I knew that the nutritional content of paper was small to nil. In fact, eating paper probably does more harm than good. I'm not sure, but the FDA probably classifies it as an anti nutrient. It helps, though, just to have something to chew on, to get you through to the next meal. You know, tricking your stomach, like when babies suck on fingers thinking they are actually nipples. Stupid babies. Stupid stomach, rather. So I wasn't about to swallow the paper. But it got the saliva rolling, yes, the saliva glands were happy to masticate the paper.

The taste of paper brought back memories of school bus travel in grade school. We'd all mow down on some paper at the back of the bus and when the paper was sufficiently slobbery, we'd pull them from our mouths and huck them at the front of the bus whereupon the great big globs would splatter and stick to the metal on the sides and ceiling of the bus. Those were good times, and it helped pass the time, as did snaring gophers, which was mainly a summer activity. I didn't know how I'd spend this evening, but I could worry about that later.

In my bag, along with 7-10 rolls of ribbon, there was my newest invention, designed to launch ping-pong, golf, or paper balls. When I pulled that out the man's look next to me changed from befuddlement to worried. He wouldn't be my target though, no, I'd lay my sights on the double d-bag giving the presentation. The man next to me was far too close to permit any enjoyment of target, anyway. I gave him a reassuring smile, the likes of which had the inadvertent effect of causing him to tremble. I wanted to pat him on the head, but I held back, making sure it was obvious he would not be my target.

The launcher resembles a bazooka, but instead of using gun powder as propeller, there is a wooden crank on the side that tensions an elastic which shoots the paper forward. Once the tension achieves maximum, it's time to pull the trigger and witness the effects.

Luckily the lights were down, since double d was having a power point show, and luckily he was blathering about something loudly, which muffled the sound of the clicking caused by winding. With his face fixed in my sights, kablam! Right in the forehead. His head shot back with the impact, and it had the pleasurable effect of a temporary end to his speech. Since the light was so low others wondered what the problem was. He palmed his forehead and found the source of his discontent. I had to stifle some laughter. It was like on the bus, but better. When the lights were turned on, and everyone saw the paper, and my bazooka, I was quickly fired. I tried resisting, but 15 people, each grabbing a part of my person, is hard to defend.

With little ceremony they hoisted me above their heads, and en masse, brought me to the firing cannon. Sympathetically, the boss gave me goggles and a helmet for the purpose, however, helmet and goggles, no matter their material, will help nothing after impact of hurdling through air at terrible speeds. Luckily, I was aimed at a traveling wagon of hay, thus softening the blow. In fact, the worst injuries I procured was from the frost bite of the bitter cold. I tipped the driver of the wagon a crisp $10 bill and wished him merry festivities. He jangled off happy enough, after soothing his horses a bit.

I'm starting to think Santa exists, and that merry old wagon driver was an early christmas present. Thanks, Santa. You have reinstated my belief in the Christmas Spirit.


sybil law said...

I am really glad the driver/ Santa was there, too!
Sucks to hear about the firing, but hell - you went out with STYLE.

(Also, I think this would make a great children's story with the right illustrations!)

John Dantzer said...

Thanks, sybil. If you're gonna go out, go out with a bang.

I'd do some illustrations, but the children might find them frightening.

dogimo said...

This is a delightful story with a lot of fucking reversals! Jorg, man. Nice.

Also, I'm glad that somebody else besides me calls it grade school. It's not primary school.

Primary school is when you hit the ground on the way to your first step.

Making this comment officially too much italics.

John Dantzer said...

Actually, I don't usually call it grade school I call it elementary school but stopped that because I was reminded of Sherlock Holmes and that is not a good association. Anyway, I love italics! And thanks for the kind words.

vimal said...

was this inspired by reality?

John Dantzer said...

Yes. Yes it was.