Going Off the Rails

Arriving late wasn’t so hard as it was for the boss when he saw me coming through the gate. Well, what excuse could I use?

I slept in or the bloody alarm hadn’t gone off. Perhaps I had a cardiac arrest while changing a tyre and the jack failed and landed on my foot. That was after running out of fuel.

A car load of women, they were a basketball team stopped and pushed my car off the road. That was a relief because my girlfriend was giving birth in the back seat while an angry mob of tree surgeons helped me deliver our first child. He screamed all the way to work and then the boss saw my new kid with his scrawny arms and that red welt of a birthmark covering half his face.

The boss was livid, “You took the morning off for this! Okay if it was a normal or even a cute looking kid but not for this monster. We’ll have to dock your pay and you can make up the hours by doing overtime.”

I worked and extra six hours that afternoon hauling logs up a steep hill until my arms were throbbing and numb and my shoulders cracked under the strain. I love my work sometimes but I’d never trade in sleeping time when I can lay on the lounge or paint my toenails any shade of green that I choose. Sometimes I get sparkly nail polish. The type young teenage girls like to use and instead of cotton-wool to spread my toes apart, I stick tissue there. It’s even more fun removing the stuff.

You can get high on the smell of acetone and when your head spins you can run fast and crash into a wall. Talk about going off the rails.