This much is true: I am bored to death. I’m sitting in this cold, noisy place watching all people walk past me..back and forth..coming.. going..
At the very moment I see one man trying to get the chicken out of the huge grill (although I’m not sure if that’s what he’s doing); a guard walking around pretending to do his job to cover up the fact that he’s also bored and sleepy; two tenants from a restaurant chatting with what I imagine a dialogue below:
“Tenant1: Dude, I can’t hide what I feel for you anymore.
Tenant2: Me too, dude. But I don’t know how I can tell my wife.
Tenant1: Let’s just run away. How about tonight?”
My thoughts are so imaginative that watching these people come and go slowly becomes a picture of a busy jungle where monkeys jump and fly around from one tree to another. Wow! Some even have shopping bags! Then the lazy ones sit around and do what I do but I doubt they think what I think right now. Otherwise they’d be coming to get me! Oh my gosh – I just pictured their eyes turning red on their way to get their hands on me like hungry black panthers!
What a nice way to entertain myself at this very hour. Then I would need to keep doing the same in the next eight hours! I actually died with boredom four hours ago, and believe it or not you are reading a text written by my dead soul. I have to think quickly of other ways I can revive my helpless body back to life. Right now I hear different kinds of music of which I think are of 24 kinds playing at the same time! Pop, rock, kiddie, bells, radio, TV, funeral, etc. (LOL) I started calling them “sound” (very loud ones), then I thought “noise” would better fit the description. What the hell would I do with these candies on my desk? Trick or treat? What do I do with these food stalls? Add another layer of flab to my ever hot curves? No way! And so I have to die bumming.
I now realize it’s 30 minutes past when I started writing. Cool. At least someone is coming for help. I hope he or she is a good doctor. Nah I don’t think someone else would be far better of a doc than my boyfriend – although admittedly I ain’t sure about that yet. (LOL) I hope he doesn’t read this though. Okay, so there’s this female cheetah who walked towards my place and tried to read our signs and looked at our desk posters.. At first I thought she wanted to inquire, but then again she saw me and couldn’t handle my appeal so she walked back and didn’t bother. Well good thing ‘cause I don’t wanna see that cat stammer in front of my face.
There’s this ugly duck sitting on my comfy old square chair. I think I need to put signs saying: “PAY AS YOU SIT”. Not that I’m being selfish or anything, but come on, this is my area, it’s either they SIGN UP or BUTT OFF, right? I could earn extras per minute for having them sit on my chair! And I’m being mean again. So I gotta stop this thing now. What a really boring Friday! --- Wait, wait, wait, waaaiiittt!!! --- Here comes another fat ugly duck! How come they like sitting on my chairs?? He sat beside his friend which gets me imagining another friggin dialogue:
Duck1: I think we cannot sit here. (turned to me)
Duck2: I’m fat. I think this chair’s going to break apart. (stood up)
Duck1: --silent--
Duck2: (looking at our posts) Oi call center! (came towards me) Job fair? Do you have other jobs aside from those in the call center?
Me: --shook her head--
Duck2: So many jobs in call centers, right?
Me: Please step away and don’t talk to me. Otherwise I’ll have you delivered to the crocs for dinner.
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