We now go live to Tyrone's Brain, already in progress:
Man, it’s noon. No wait, five past one. Late again. My editor-in-chief looks irked, as usual, over my tardiness. Whatever. Until someone else learns how to efficiently use the layout program, I’m unaccountable for my blantant disregard for others’ opinions, emotions, and general well-being.
Two o’ clock already? How time flies when you're laying out pages. Hey, look, another Kappi reference. That's what now, every issue? I smell a conspiracy.
Did we just score? I hear the cheers from the stadium, but maybe we just got a first down. Man, it sucks being the “TJ” of college football. TJ (short for Thomas Jefferson) was a shitty high school team in my hometown's district. They had never won a single game in five years or something. Everyone felt bad for them, too, because their team had, like, fifteen people on it. The special teams guy was also the QB. Had to place his own kicks and everything for the field goals. It was weird to see.
I heard they won their homecoming game the year after I graduated. I think they burned the school down afterwards. Good for them.
Yay, the editor's gone off, leaving the office all to me. I kinda like being alone in a big empty office. Makes my work feel all the more important, like I'm the last man on earth who's frantically trying to record his last testimony (to whom I have no clue) before the zombies knock down the door and devour my soul. I wonder if that new Will Smith movie is a zombie flick, or more of a “28 Days Later” pseudo-zombie flick. Cillian Murphy has a really square jaw.
I wish more people knew how to lay out pages. Just two or three, really. Then I could sit back with a tall glass of grape Kool-Aid and listen to the pitter-patter of their fingers striking the keys in frenzied desperation to meet the deadline. I could get a whip too, and smack 'em from long range when they got uppity. Like the Egyptians. We should build more pyramids in the US. They're fun to sled down.
I love reading the “Incident Reports.” Crime doesn't pay, scumbags! Hmmm, theft is down, vandalism is up, and poop has been smeared on cars in a parking lot that's not mine. Neat. The perps shall henceforth be known as….”the Crappy Bandits!” I'm so clever.
I just spent the last fifteen minutes staring out the window. Damn, I parked my car in a no-parking zone. I hope I don't get a ticket. Fuck it, this work can wait until tomorrow. My editor won't care. She never does. Well, I'm out like vomit from a drunk cheerleader's mouth on prom night.
And…back to you in the studio.