Bitter

There was no wind. The ocean lay calm and still, waves at rest, a silent tomb. I could not understand where all the people had gone. I was alone, completely alone, and the silence threatened to swallow me whole. No one would even hear me scream.
I snapped awake, panting, and twisted in my sweaty sheets. I felt like a living cliché. All those corny horror movies, the repetitive nightmares, and now I had become one. I didn’t want to leave my bed. There was no point. I was tired, but that was fine. I didn’t mind the sensation of being underwater, all my senses dulled by lethargy. I just couldn’t stand the idea of doing it all again. I have a mind numbing job at a major advertising firm. It didn’t used to be so unbearable. I used to have a crush on Delilah, the girl in the corner office. I think she’s in line for head of draft copy. We used to flirt when we passed each other on the way to the bathroom. Now she won’t even look at me. See, a few weeks ago, there was a glitch in the computer system. People were getting the wrong emails, memos were being sent to single people; it was a real mess. In the midst of all this chaos, my computer basically word-vomited all over the rest of the office. My hard-drive took the liberty of sending out a mass message to all my coworkers, containing the blog I write at work. Yes, I am a slacker. Now Janet knows I think she’s a slut, even without a booze-filled Christmas party. Ted is fully aware of my lengthy musings on the pathetic state of his combover. See, I was a nice person, once upon a time. But the corporation, or just the routine that is my life, has made me the asshole I am today. Or maybe I can blame it on my mom’s habit of forcing me to watch Lawrence Welk with her as a child. Either way, these days, I am a Grade-A piece of shit. I can’t even justify it to myself. And now that the whole office has been made aware, I get more dirty looks each day than Nicole Ritchie at a weight-loss convention.
Today I am contemplating how long it will take before someone finally suggests that I be relieved of my duties. I don’t need the money. I am planning on getting hit by a bus soon anyway. Or moving to a third world country where I will be the richest man there with barely enough cash to buy a Happy Meal over here.
My biting sarcasm and caustic wit seems lost on all the people I have met in the last decade. They seem oblivious to my genius and omniscient wisdom. I’ve sometimes wondered if I think too highly of myself. Then I discard that ridiculous thought as a product of a society created to keep me down.
I am having trouble deciding what to do with my weekend. Since it’s been over four years since my last girlfriend, a poet laureate from New Jersey, I’m practically gay anyway, so I figured I might buy a few argyle sweaters and get a cat. There’s a huge box of powdered donuts waiting for me in my kitchen, and a marathon of Will and Grace on Lifetime. I’m getting rather excited to go home. Maybe I’ll tell my boss I’m having splitting pains in my ass and clock out early. God life is beautiful, ain’t it?