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It's Monday Rating: G |
It was Monday. Charles hated Monday. He wasn’t sure why it was worse than the other days of the week, especially since he never took anything that could be considered a weekend off. He didn’t dare. He’d seen what the boys could get up to when he was on the clock and in the same room; the mind boggled at the shit they could get up to if he dared take off for two days. But it was Monday, the employees of the gigantic keep were returning from summer fun at the beach, and everyone was thinking how nice it would be if they could afford to just wallow in the hot tub, look at porn, eat popsicles and belch. God he loved those boys. What the fuck was wrong with him, anyway? He sighed loudly as he reached his office and realized the boys had been in it. Fabulous. Terrific. His laser pointers would be gone, his markers would be sniffed dry, and his brandy would have been guzzled and replaced with something Pickles had found in a men’s room in an unlabelled bottle back in the eighties. Charles walked into the office, and paused. He had expected a mess, but everything was pretty much where he left it on Friday. The only things that were out of place were several pieces of paper, which were propped up against various objects. Slowly, Charles walked over to his desk, seating himself in the chair before it, and studied what he saw. They were pain waivers, set up in a row, leaning against his lamps and pen set. Before each document was a tiny toy instrument; a set of drums, a guitar, a bass, a little keyboard, and microphone. Charles just stared, trying to wrap his mind around the bizarre collection of items before him, then groaned aloud as his head fell forward to hit the desk with a quiet “bonk”. “It’s a paper jam….” he moaned. |
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