So You Had A Bad Day

Ostensibly speaking, one of the first signs of a bad day is when you open your oven and your rump roast farts in your face.


I’m pretty sure I’ve published that little nugget here before.  I just don’t remember where.  I wish I could take credit for that one, however it came by way of the grapevine on a playground somewhere in the central Wyoming during the Carter Administration.


As if we didn’t have enough of an indicator that the days were bad.


But I’m not here to jack jaw about politics today.


The whole premise of an eminently bad day on the horizon being wrapped up in a flatulent slab of beef has teeth, but it fails in comparison to the alarm going off at 5:30 am on a Monday morning as scheduled.


The insult doesn’t end there though.


You went to bed late last night because it’s football season and there was a good game on the boob toob last night.  So in addition to the fact that you’re good and groggy from not getting enough sleep, you also slept on the wrong side (of your body) on your deteriorated mattress.  You don’t come to that realization until you try to turn over to shut off the [creative adjective] alarm clock.


It’s 5:30 am.  It’s a holiday, kinda (Columbus Day).  Your back hurts and you’re pretty sleepy.


Oh yeah.  It’s Monday.


But wait.


There’s more.


Upon getting to work, you and the rest of the team slowly begin to realize that the shit’s about to hit the fan.  The malevolent demi-God with a bad case of sibling rivalry who was brought in by the night crew is about to unleash his vast army of interstellar mole men armed with kill-zap guns and Flash Gordon rocket cycles on New York City.


Sadly, your team doesn’t get along that well.  Everyone has a beef with everyone else.  Getting the whole gang to work together to defeat the bad guys is going to be tough.  The team building retreat weekend which was scheduled months ago up in the mountains isn’t until next week.  Deep down, you don’t know which one of your teammates, if any, would be willing to catch you when it’s your turn to fall backwards into their arms.


But, it’s too late now.


You find yourself embroiled in the fight of your life as all of the bad guys attack from a massive hole in the sky.  Cars, buildings, hot dog carts, and plenty of other New York City paraphernalia become line items on the biggest insurance claim in eleven years as wanton destruction ensues.


Perseverance is the key though.  You and the team come together using your own individual talents to fight back the mole men and the angry little brother who’s running the show.  In the end, the day is saved when a team member intercepts a nuke meant to make the city an obstacle riddled parking lot and sends it up into the great big hole in the sky.


That’s right, you’ve had a long, hard, tough day.


Go get some shawarma and take a load off.



Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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