minor rebellion #1
Do they really mean that? “Have a nice day”? Do they want me to have it, like for my very own, so I can keep it and look back on it fondly in remembrance? Or do they mean I will have to force it into being, or push it into existence, as though it has been trapped in my body for nine months, and I must now coax this day out into the world? Either way, I’m late again, and I doubt that any of the ticket punchers care if I am this close to losing my job, or that close to getting a promotion. Or laid. Or kidnapped. So long as they have a ticket to punch, the world will go on.
In a moment of rebellion, I crumple my ticket and throw it on the ground, littering right there in front of everyone.
But then, how will I get out of here without it? Dangit! Minor rebellion staved off for another half hour, ‘till I get out of here and get some coffee.