Suddenly, I heard it coming from the alley, at the office building.
Normally, the noises polluting my daily routine range from furious xerox buzz to coffee machine refill, to delivery guys, to flushes when someone opens the door of the main toilettes exactly when somebody pulls the chain. This time it was bloody Zappa, tough, I shyte you not.
I took my coffee mug (the printed "why so basement?", an award winning bad taste favorite amongst the colleagues) and walked down the alley to where the insurance guys are located. That area of the floor plan is known as "The Purgatory", because 50+ accountants stroll like zombies, holding to their appraisal reports like they couldn't hold to the life in their souls. This time, though, there were no living dead. It was totally deserted. There was only Baby Snakes oozing through the cracks of the walls. Under a door. Through a half-closed inner window. Everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
I panicked. "What if they are all zombies, like, for real?" I could see myself being released from the burden of my brain by some munching actuary with blurry black holes instead of eye sockets. I had to follow the sound, though. So I did. I made it to the department coordinator's office, gathered some strength, and pushed the door.
Guess what? All the insurance guys were sitting in their superior's office, smoking, sipping coffee, and enjoying Baby Snakes.
Originally posted by SeitseWhy can I never resist opening a thread with even a vague Zappa reference?
Suddenly, I heard it coming from the alley, at the office building.
Normally, the noises polluting my daily routine range from furious xerox buzz to coffee machine refill, to delivery guys, to flushes when someone opens the door of the main toilettes exactly when somebody pulls the chain. This time it was bloody Zappa, tough, I shyte you not.
I took my ...[text shortened]... sitting in their superior's office, smoking, sipping coffee, and enjoying Baby Snakes.
ps. rec'd