Which brings me to this morning. As I settled at my desk with my 80 ounces of caffeine madness and began to separate the work-related emails from spam emails offering to consolidate my debt from a Christian perspective while enlarging my penis, I noticed an email entitled “Farewell” from this coworker. Seems he had relocated to a farming commune in his home country, as a complete change from the corporate lifestyle. Without any contact information. I stopped by his office to see if I could find him before he left, but his office was empty, and the book was nowhere to be seen.
With the awful realization of someone burned by a smooth world-class criminal, I didn’t know whether to feel cheated or impressed. The book was gone, but it was in good hands. I wasn’t particularly angry; I could very easily swipe another copy from my brother and then pin it on one of his careless artist friends. I wasn’t even really surprised; after about nine months of not asking for the book back, I could probably assume some common law statute had kicked in and the book was now legally his. Still, I slowly walked back into my cubicle feeling a little bit like a complete stooge. And not the Iggy Pop variety either.
Article comments
1 - V.C. Almond
Funny shit, man.
2 - Martin Lav
No worries, I'll lend you my copy if you want.
All I ask is that you return it......eventually.