The Cubicle of Death (Part 3)

The Days That Never Ends

The traffic filled road has an unusually fresh atmosphere of smog and morning cigarettes for us zombies. Every enormous freight trucker and sharp-brake-stepper allows the easy release of cortisol for those around them, causing traffic delays and hair-pulling frustration for each time they slam the pedal and tip their coffee mugs.

“Why do we rush to the cemetery? Trading our time for money but not enough to buy our individual freedom.”

I savagely chew through my Tupperware breakfast (monkey breast and cow stomach) while listening to supposed self-millionaires talk about their road to riches. Lane-changing into the slightly faster lane has become a skill of perfect timing and ballsy maneuvering; when the heart starts racing at this time of the day, you know your on the right track.

After swallowing my 2-liter jug of alkaline water, is when my trip has perfectly timed itself to approaching the land of the dead and melting features. The concentration of miles and miles of railroads and fast food joints seem to be the best breeding ground of idiots next in line to fall into the meat grinder.

The infamous mindset of waiting for the weekend to be happy, the mindset of waiting for a check to fill our void.

Today we find Shit Tits , AKA Lu Kang Mother Hippo, basking in a Styrofoam fruit smoothie while chopping her terrifying under-bite of a mouth-piece through pasty gummy bears- the chewing and slopping of each chomp sounds like belly flopping with blubber whales.

Tim, AKA the soft-spoken, scalp scraping chimpanzee (complete with Asian goatee) eats a thousand year old twinkie from his goodie bag of packaged preservatives. Tim always packs a ham and pig’s-ass sandwich on white bread with butter to justify his healthy nutrition. However today, Tim draws a protein cookie from the heavens, which happens to be my favorite, sits unopened on his candy-wrapper trashed cubicle; I can only shudder at the waste of the nutritional value and the unappreciated-ness of the beautiful treat.

Suddenly, a package delivered by the mailman. We have just received girl scout cookies of the highest caliber: Samoa. T’was a sample box for marketing with local small businesses. Just as soon as I opened the dusty box, the level of oxygen in the room began to rapidly deplete as Lu Kang Mother Hippo sucked in a massive amount of the resource in one stupendous effort to lift off the swivel chair to smother the soft-baked golden dessert! Tim and I scraped  at our throats for dear life and flopped around the wooden floorboards like two fish out of water. Finally, after what seemed like hours, we rose to our feet in a dizzying struggle. Through the misty atmosphere of greenish haze from sour fart bombs, we can slightly make out what seems to be a supple buffalo licking at the last crumb in the corners of the plastic crevices.

After this mind-baffling event, our “team” sat down for an overview of the productiveness of our day.

Jobo and Ishy spoke passionately about their problems of the work area. Meanwhile, I thought about our takeaway lesson of the day. As I observed the room of filth and decay, I am reminded of a saying..

..”wealth has nothing to do with how hard you work. Wealth has nothing to do with how many hours you put in. Wealth is determined by how much value you can offer to the world…”

I pondered and forgot why I was even there in the first place. Perhaps my life of diverting from risky behavior led me to surround myself with this certain breed of zombies. The zombies around me will forever be trapped inhaling each other’s fecal matter, learn similar behaviors, learn to subconsciously become more-dead than the minute they were born…

I felt my stomach drop, then realized that I needed to consume 10,000 calories to offset my caloric deficit thus far.

..(The epiphany’s I receive while on low carbs and furthering my metabolic damage)…

At that moment I woke up, starving.

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