Friday, March 8, 2013

The Line

It was Friday.  The only day of the week that really meant something.

The whole week was just a build up to the line.  Every minute in his cubicle was just a minute in anticipation of waiting in line for his reward.  Everything was just a matter of waiting.

Every stupid report.  Every dance recital.  Every child vomiting.  Every boring and mundane conversation with his wife.  Every meeting.  Every red light.  Everything.

The line was everything.  Everyone knew it.  It was like electricity in the air.  Nobody wanted to live the lives that they were living.  The line was the great equalizer.  Everyone was waiting for the same thing.  It was a chance to metaphysically embrace your fellow man in something greater than yourself.  It was better than drugs, sex, and sports combined.  It was the ultimate in all of creation.

Everyone always smiled on the line.  Smiled and talked about the latest shows.  It was a happy time, with everyone embracing the best that society had to offer.  All were present with a common purpose and nobody with $100 to spare was turned away.  It was exactly how democracy was supposed to work.

Nobody ever cut the line.  It was too big.  Too important.  Sure, it happened at first but then it just stopped happening.  Society builds itself up based off order.  The line reinforced that idea with its perfection.

There were detractors of course.  Misguided poor that saw the line as some sort of elite activity that was hurting the country.  It was all total bullshit.  They were sad and pathetic free thinkers that thought their crazy off the tube lifestyle was somehow better.

The woman four places up smiled at him.  Her teeth were properly white and perfect and her body was Package 3.  Sporty with a well toned but large ass.  Always a good model.  She made a gesture at him and he knew that she wanted sex.  The line did that to people.  It got people excited.

He was a Package 1.  Well toned, perfect chin, good hair, blue eyes.  It was expensive but worth it.  Promotion after promotion came his way and he had affairs from the line all the time.  They meant nothing of course but they were a nice distraction before he had to get back to his family.

The lined moved forward and the sense of nirvana came ever closer.  Soon it would be his turn.  Soon the world would make sense again, even if only for a few seconds.

The Package 3 went into the tent.  It was her turn.  It was hard not to be jealous.

She went in and out.  The others replaced her.  Finally, it was his turn.  The end of the line.

He walked into the tent.  It was Gwen Fisher from the popular reality show Witch Detective.  She was even more beautiful in person.  He walked into the proper place.

"I'm Gwen Fisher.  Nice to meet you."

She then punched him hard in the face.

The nanobots in his body would fix the damage to his face within seconds and the  Package 3 would be waiting out back for a quick screw.  However, none of that mattered right now.  It was important to live in the now and embrace the great wonder of America.

A real life celebrity just punched him.

It was heaven.

Another Friday, another day of job search junk.  I hate how weekdays and weekends start to blend together when you don't have a job.  I'm getting really sick of this nonsense.

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