Raging at the spectacle of a chewed-up dupe
At the stroke of six AM a drooling red-eyed beast arises and lifts himself gently from his tender slumber pocket. Having bathed himself of the impurities of the last 24 hours, he flips open the black plastic racket machine and tries to focus himself on another hundred hours of work. These are the holidays. There is a lot of work to be done. Pilling it on, I accepted a last minute gig from the mayors office of Saint Paul to construct them a site by next Wednesday. My closest advisors have told me that this was an unwise decision. To make matters worse, and completely impossible, the mayor has decided that he personally will launch this site. At a press conference Wednesday he will symbolically ‘cut the ribbon’ by using the functionality of the site in front of a large crowd of reporters that will watch his every move on a large LCD screen. Ah…the nightmares…nightmares I tell you. I awake in cold ugly sweats picturing the whole thing exploding; there are surrealist droopy 404 errors streaming everywhere like acid rain; the mayor looks sinister as he is howling obscenities at his unpopular staff; I am receiving an email with the subject: “You Will Never Work in This Town Again”. I am preparing for the worst. I must get back to work.