Cheer Up, Charlie

I wonder ALL the time what it is going to be like to “Meet My Maker”. I’m serious. When I die, I imagine it will be a Willy Wonka-esque experience overseen by a man, hopefully who does not eat too many candy teacups, who punishes naughty children and other humans for their misdeeds. I, being the good child who made it through the entire factory tour which served as a delightful metaphor for life and humanity, will expect heaven in return for the sin-free existence I have led. WonkaGod, however, will prove me wrong by telling me that when I was in the Fizzy Lifting Room I drank too much Fizzy Lifting Drink and so here’s a handbasket for pleasant travels.

Why do I think this? Because I love stealing postage and making long distance, sometimes international, phone calls from work and taking advantage of everything I believe I am entitled to because technically I’m not hurting anyone. And I know that WonkaGod’s explanation is going to be that my tiny actions create a butterfly effect and hurt those around me and will affect the sense of right and wrong I have yet to instill in my unborn children, but really, all I see is a well deserved three hole punch that could really come in handy for making confetti someday. In case I have a New Year’s Eve party. It might happen.

I consider the fact that some of my coworkers blatantly abuse the system by taking excessive days off and expensing a sandwich from Quizno’s as a “working lunch”. Me? I am a sweet hardworker with grandparents who sleep four to a bed who just wants to have fun by metaphorically floating dangerously close to a fan and then passing gas to save myself. And for that, I feel like I’m going to pay when I go to that big everlasting gobstopper in the sky.

Advertisements
Comments are closed.
%d bloggers like this: