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Post by Celia on Jan 23, 2012 19:34:02 GMT -5
Two men called in sick on one day of their jobs, A boss and his worker; the former was lazy, the latter a snob. Neither were ill, so they encountered quite a trial, As they tried to explain themselves when they met in a small market isle.
The boss searched through the produce and selected an orange, The worker had not noticed and merely sucked on his lozenge. They turned their heads toward each other and were met with surprise, For neither expected the other when they there had locked eyes.
The worker was rather hungover, and decided, To come up with a story under the situation provided. The boss stuttered, and claimed he had come down with sores, (Though in truth, the night prior he was covered in whores.)
The men were both clever and saw through the ruse Of the other, but soon resultedly chose To never disclose this meeting of shame, And each want back home and turned on the game.
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Post by Celia on Jan 23, 2012 19:35:44 GMT -5
I briefly considered trying at least a little to make this poem good, but then I realized that my storeroom of fucks was growing dangerously low and winter was coming.
That is to say, I could no longer afford to give a fuck.
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