minor rebellion #1

They punch my ticket, and smile up at me without really smiling. “Have a nice day”, they say, as they validate my parking and shoo me along, already talking to the next person behind me.

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.

About denelle

writer. artist. ponderer.

Posted on June 3, 2010, in minor rebellion, thoughts and reflections and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Well this could have been a lot worse. You could have fire bombed the ticket booth. 🙂

    I am currently enjoying a nice cup of coffee myself. Courtesy of my work. The best thing this company has done for me is give me free coffee every morning. It keeps me alive. Barely. I probably have coffee coursing through my veins by now.

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