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The black hole punch on Darlene's desk could

  • The black hole punch on Darlene's desk could tear through card stock AND the fabric of space-time. I was sure of it; I'd seen a special on NOVA. I cautiously approached her cubicle
  • Husband. Everyone at DelMark Co. had a cubicle spouse. Darlene's was super jealous. I wanted to let him know I was only interested his cubicle wife's "Black Hole" punch on her
  • desk. I'd never tasted "Black Hole" punch. It was a drink the cubical wife must have made herself; the label which was hand written read, "Baby, this will make your insides boil."
  • I had no idea why the label on Black Hole punch said it would make my insides boil. Then I hurried to the bathroom and puked. Then some one came up from behind me it was
  • a run-on sentencer who ran in to sentence me to a lifetime of product testing. I was given an injection and faded away. When I came to, I was in a strange paper gown with bright
  • lemon spots and livid purple crosses. I looked more closely, under the crosses was my name. I asked the hare acting as a pillow why. It stared with amber eyes and laughed. "You are
  • losing your mind, my friend. You just don't realize it." I blinked & the amber-eyed hare was gone. I was now standing under the shadow of the purple cross. In the distance I heard
  • a marching band playing Sousa. How bizarre was this experience? I couldn't make sense of it. Was this a dream? I pinched myself. No, I'm awake. The band marched closer. I could see
  • their musical instruments almost touching my clothes. I felt my personal space was invaded. And the worst thing was that I wasn't dreaming. It was all surprisingly real. What was I
  • thinking; who was I kidding? The worst was that I didn't bring my camera, so I couldn't take any photos to help me later share my story with others. I'd have to go on memory alone.

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