Well, Yeah XXI

Pull tangerine windows out of thin air and ask me for a raise? I might consider it when your cheetah production subsides. I can’t have you bringing large cats into absolutely every sales pitch. That’s just unprofessional, giblethead. Do you understand the bind that puts me in? A lot of those cats are hungry. And what do they see? Fleshy, complacent and delicious humans that can’t even run to the mailbox to get their bills. The last thing these people want to be thinking about is death, you incompetent feline conjurer! I’m giving you another chance, but for Christ’s sake, don’t ask me for a raise in front of my wife when I’m making love to her! You know how uncomfortable that makes her, let alone myself. How do you expect me to perform in such mediocre and ludicrous conditions? Are you going to join in and get this awkwardness over with, or will you just keep staring and pretending you don’t know what you’re doing with your life? It’s bad enough that you asked my daughter out to prom when she was 23. Do you have any conception of what it means to be an average human? You have to do the simple arithmetic that the rest of us do. Six plus seven means you’re an unlucky SOB, and the last thing you should be talking to me about is a raise in wages. We pay you peanuts, and you should be used to that scale by now. No way are we going to upgrade you to carrots or bull testicles, you haven’t earned that distinction yet. Lord, why are you still here?! If I were you, I’d be talking up clients and falsely raising their hopes about an upcoming apocalypse– for your sake and mine.


Author: Aidan Badinger

Wharved.com I am a poet. I write poems. Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children.

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