Coiling around the snake was the ladder of misunderstanding, as Joshua tried explaining the grand theory of misconception to his nearest walking partner to the left. Shuffling their way to work they were all very busy saying the word ‘nothing’ over and over and over until the idea of over was nowhere to be seen and at that point nothing seemed a very far away concept too.
Leanard was the only one who would not shut up about some conspiracy the world had thrust upon him. Nobody actually cared. Yet as so many of our favourite colleagues, we had to deal with his ever bouncing Mohawk consisting entirely of dreadlocks and the way he would rant on and on about things that actually mattered. Nobody should have to endure listening to things that actually matter. Nobody except for a few chosen by the great bottle of wine hidden deep within the mattress of enlightenment, and even that would run its course as a depressed alcoholic and cower under loud noises of unimportant events happening all around it all the time. Just as they did now – at seven and a half quarters into the workday of the coffee everyone had drunk.
The coffee was laced with sugar, by some very secret society that always sneaks in to the coffee factories to spoil everyone’s day.
Of course, everybody knew of this and dared not thank the evildoers, as the coffee tastes rather awful without a five heap of cocaine.
The doers of such a deed were in fact a subculture of Christian descent.
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