Eye Yam Sofa King We Tar Dead

I am the greatest Blockbuster employee . . . in the world. And here’s why: woke up, thought to myself, “Self, when do I work?” My Self said the closing shift. Not one to argue, I went back to sleep. Woke up again, rolled over to my computer, checked my email, blah, blah, blah. Then I went downstairs (it was 2 around now) and, as I was sifting through the goodies in the fridge, I happened to catch the dry erase calendar on the fridge out of the corner of my eye. And it said the most peculiar thing. “Chris,” it said, “you work from 10 to 5 today.” I said, “No, silly calendar, I close today.” “No,” the calendar solemnly replied. “I’m quite certain. You open today.” With a tremendous sinking sensation, I walked quickly up the stairs and grabbed my little notebook, the notebook I knew wouldn’t lie to me, and it said, “Sigh . . . the calendar is right, Chris.”


So I grabbed my cell phone, which had been on silent all morning. Three new messages.


I frantically dialed my store and my manager picked up, “Where the hell are you? I’m the only one here and I’m swamped.”

God dammit.

After the quickest shower of my life, I finally showed up to work–a lean four hours and twenty minutes late. ‘Cause that’s how I roll. Luckily, this is the first time this has ever happened, all the managers at the store really like me, and I’m (normally) a pretty good employee. So I still have a job. Sigh . . .


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