I doubt the subject line will bring many folks to my blog. Consider yourself the few. The proud. The whatevers.
Once you start formulating headlines that have nothing at all to do with attracting visitors, perhaps the time has come to ask yourself, “Why do I blog?”
No. I’m not going to answer that question. That’s another thing wrong around here. So be it.
For those of you who want this comic explained, be foolish and keep reading after the break. Beware. Beyond the comic there be dragons.
My boss is still doing the “low carb” diet. For those of you who don’t know what that means, it is where you give up certain foods (hell if I know what they are) and instead consume something like 42 pounds of meat per day.
The boss likes to buy lunch on Fridays. It has turned out to be the cherry on top of a weekly humiliation sundae.
Today the boss placed our order and turned to me and said, “You can have my fries.” I admit I broke every rule in the negativity book when I actually was looking forward to some fries.
When he walked in with lunch I was finishing something up on the computer. By the time I turned around, 1.42 nanoseconds later, he already had the fat end of a gigantor wrap stuffed into his face. On the table in front of him, in one side of a take-out container, were my french fries. The container was positioned so that the side with the fries was closest to him.
As I watched in amazement, the dude leaned forward so that he was eating directly above the french fries.
Now, I’ve said this before, so this will be a repeat for some. If you’ve never had the pleasure of watching my boss eat I always describe it a little something like this. It looks and sounds like a school of piranha eating a live cow that has been dropped in a river.
I think I grabbed by belly, moaned, and whispered something about, “Oh. The humanity.”
If you’ve seen the wood chipper scene in Fargo then you might begin to get the gist. (Say that word with me, won’t you? GIST.)
And this was all taking place mere inches above the french fries.
Finally he pushed back from the table and said, “Here’s your fries.”
“No thanks.”
The look of shock on his face was stunning. A human was turning down food? Inconceivable in his world!
“Well, I can’t eat ’em,” he said. Oh yes. The so-called diet. Ha!
I managed to squeak out a couple more words. “Me, either.”
The sad thing is, the creature is so socially inept he actually has absolutely totally no idea why. He probably walked away thinking to himself, “There really is something wrong with that Tom guy. What the hell is he doing turning down food like that?”
If only he knew. But, of course, if that happened, the world would explode and we still wouldn’t get to see it. The boss being socially aware enough to recognize what he’s doing to other people is one of the seven seals of the Apocalypse. And according to the Mayan calendar that is still a few months away. No problem. I can wait.
Shouts from the Abyss 