Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or the press, or the right of the people to peaceably assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
A well-regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

I'm Sorry Boss

In response to a request that I post something original (something I admit I should have been doing anyway), I present you with a piece originally written as an exercise form my Advanced Writing course last semester. Enjoy.


I’m sorry boss, I know I’m four hours late today; my building lost power sometime last night and my alarm clock reset itself, so needless to say my alarm didn’t go off this morning and I overslept; then some moron parked his delivery ban in my building’s driveway while he was dropping off flowers to the old lady who lives upstairs from me, and when I asked him to move his truck, the little old lady hit me with her purse – yes, sir, that’s why I have a black eye – yes, I know the client is coming in to close the deal today; so after the delivery guy finally moved his truck, I pulled out of the garage; I knew I would be late by that point – I did try to call you sir, but my cell phone has a dead battery because I was charging it when the power went out last night; so I finally get on the highway and am doing my best to make up lost time when I see a police car behind me flip on its lights and siren, so I pull over and turn the car off; next thing I know the cop rips my door open and throws me on the pavement –yes, sir, that’s why my suit is damaged – yes, I know that the meeting with the client is a formal one – yes I know that formal means wearing a suit that hasn’t been destroyed; turns out that my license plate partially matched one from a getaway car that some bank robbers had used that morning, but they didn’t tell me that until they had hauled me down to the precinct and began interrogating me; I had to convince them to call the little old lady who lives upstairs before they’d believe me – yes, I realize that it sound like a bunch of, uh, bull-stuff, sir, but I swear it’s – wait, what do you mean, ‘I’m fired’?

No comments: