"The White Jacket" by Philly Moon

So I'm falling asleep as I type, my fingers getting heavier with every letter. Can't really talk, I'm busy, well no, more like, I should be busy. I have to order furniture for my office and get quotes on signs & banners and crap for this company coming in next week. HA, they want ME to decorate the office? I can't even pick out matching furniture for my own apartment! hehehe

Maybe the public won't mind if I sleep talk to them for a while. Maybe my boss won't mind if I sleep walk.

Hell, maybe I can just curl up in a little ball in the storage closet and when someone comes in, I'll just pretend I'm looking for paperclips on the floor! Of course they'll think I'm a crackhead, quietly walk away, run down the hall to HR and explain my carpet combing behavior. THEN, HR will call and say "Hi Carol, how are you feeling today? Can you stop down and see us?"

I'll say, "Sure!" (pretending I don't know that they're about to send me to rehab). So I get down there and they have 2 large men waiting by the door with a cute little white jacket (I bet they're reps from the Gap).

"Oh, for me? How sweet!" Is it my anniversary with the company?"

"Ma'am, you'll have to come with us!"

Oh, how convenient, all I wanted to do in the first place was sleep. Now I get to do it in a cushy padded room! I never clocked out so I'm getting paid now for sleeping.

I wonder when I get to leave? "Hey, can I go back to the office now?" (I say this now in a slurred, drug induced murmur) It's kind of hard to speak when they have you injected with about 5 cc's of Thorizine).

Article Author: mpho

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