Virus Alert
There is a dangerous virus being passed electronically, orally and by
hand. This virus is called Worm-Overload-Recreational-Killer (WORK). If you receive WORK from any of your colleagues, your boss or anyone else via any means DO NOT TOUCH IT. This virus will wipe out your private life completely.
If you should come into contact with WORK put your jacket on and take 2 good friends to the nearest pub. Purchase the antidote known as Work-Isolator-Neutralizer-Extractor (WINE). The quickest acting WINE Type is called Swift-Hitting-Infiltrator-Remover-All-Zones (SHIRAZ) but this is only available for those who can afford it,the next best equivalent is Cheapest-Available-System-Killer (CASK). Take the antidote repeatedly until WORK has been completely eliminated from your system.
Forward this warning to 5 friends. If you do not have 5 friends you
Have already been infected and WORK is controlling your life. This virus is DEADLY(Destroys-Every-Available-Decent-Living-Youngster).
Update 05-10-08:
After extensive testing it has been concluded that the Best-Equivalent-Extractor-Remedy (BEER) may be substituted for WINE but May require a more generous application.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Frost
The old man leaned heavily against his walking stick as he unhurriedly walked along the cement road. He was in the midst of the developed civilization, and the live pace here was faster, a lot faster than it had been thirty years ago. He had been walking for a long time, longer than what he could remember. He was lost. He turned to a young woman and asked her how he could go home. She shook her head and hastily walked away. He attempted to ask someone else, but he got no answer. Reluctantly, the old man continued walking.
The sky darkened and it began to rain. Icy cold droplets of water pelted on the old man’s shoulders and drenched his clothes. With every strike, the old man slowed down, but there was no one around to see the fatigue in his eyes. The rain never seemed to become smaller. For a moment the old man saw stars, then the next thing he knew he was on the grounds, panting breathlessly.
From far he saw a beautiful sports car approaching. He raised his hand and waved to get the driver’s attention. But the car just sped past, splashing mud on the old man. He sat up and leaned against the lamp post nearby. Across the street, he saw a little girl point to him. Perhaps help was on its way, he thought. But the girl’s mother held the little girl by her hand and pulled her into the building. “Ah, innocent little angel, the world is tinted and it wouldn’t be long before you, the purest of all things, become tinted too,” he said to the girl, but no one heard him. No one paid attention to what an insignificant man had said, for he was not a politician. They would not gain anything from listening to him.
“Perhaps you can slow down to help me?” he said to everyone that passed by, but, again, no one cared.
He sat there for a long time, wondering what would happen in the future. With every passing second, the rain seemed to get colder. When he was a little boy, he would just need to cry and someone would take him by his hand and lead him to the police station, where he would be brought home. But now age had caught up with him, and tears could not come out. Even if they did, no one would respond.
He laughed while panting and wanted to say, “I think the world just got colder,” but no words came out.
The sky darkened and it began to rain. Icy cold droplets of water pelted on the old man’s shoulders and drenched his clothes. With every strike, the old man slowed down, but there was no one around to see the fatigue in his eyes. The rain never seemed to become smaller. For a moment the old man saw stars, then the next thing he knew he was on the grounds, panting breathlessly.
From far he saw a beautiful sports car approaching. He raised his hand and waved to get the driver’s attention. But the car just sped past, splashing mud on the old man. He sat up and leaned against the lamp post nearby. Across the street, he saw a little girl point to him. Perhaps help was on its way, he thought. But the girl’s mother held the little girl by her hand and pulled her into the building. “Ah, innocent little angel, the world is tinted and it wouldn’t be long before you, the purest of all things, become tinted too,” he said to the girl, but no one heard him. No one paid attention to what an insignificant man had said, for he was not a politician. They would not gain anything from listening to him.
“Perhaps you can slow down to help me?” he said to everyone that passed by, but, again, no one cared.
He sat there for a long time, wondering what would happen in the future. With every passing second, the rain seemed to get colder. When he was a little boy, he would just need to cry and someone would take him by his hand and lead him to the police station, where he would be brought home. But now age had caught up with him, and tears could not come out. Even if they did, no one would respond.
He laughed while panting and wanted to say, “I think the world just got colder,” but no words came out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
RSS Feed (xml)