Tag: work

Poking Parker

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Parker screwed up. Nearly got me killed.
“Poke him, Chief” said Vasquez.
Everybody agreed.
So, before my shift, I went to the Suit Room and poked a hole in Parker’s moonsuit.
Relax – the airlock cycles quickly. Long before he blows out. One tiny hole will just whistle a bit at Zero A.
I laughed as he cycled… and he blew out fast.
Blowout? I must have poked the moonsuit too deep.
Crap.
As Crew Chief, Parker died on my watch, so it was on me.
I confessed about poking Parker.
Vasquez also confessed. And Petersen. And Goldberg. And Sanders. And…

Handling the pressure

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Arthur’s control panel was a thing of beauty.
So many switches, so many dials, and so many pretty green lights.
Day after day, Arthur would sit in his chair and whistle a happy tune.
When one of the lights turned yellow, Arthur stopped whistling.
He tapped the bulb a few times, just to see if it would change.
It stayed yellow.
Looking in the manual, a yellow light meant… something… to be… corrected.
So, like all the other yellow lights before it, Arthur got out his marker and colored the lightbulb green.
Arthur’s whistling covered the pressure valve leak nicely.

A twist of metallic fate

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I don’t even bother listening to the bum’s story. My hand goes into my pocket automatically for the change in there.
I shake it out, and find The Paperclip.
It’s been a long time since its glory days at NASA, when during the 12th Apollo mission it bridged a navigation circuit that could have splattered the capsule across Utah.
After two decades jumping from binder to binder, it was unbent to reset a critical communications computer for the shuttle program.
A hero among office supplies.
I hand the bum the change, unbend the paperclip, and pick my teeth with it.

This is the dawning of the Age Of Doug

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Zeus chewed on his mashed potatoes in the Old Gods Home and groaned.
“Mashed potatoes?” said Zeus. “In the old days, I drank Ambrosia and hurled thunderbolts!”
Zeus reached into his Depends, pulled out some lightning, and weakly hefted it over his shoulder.
He wobbled and stabbed an orderly in the chest, mortally wounding him.
“Doug,” said Zeus, sputtering mashed potatoes. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted…”
Doug wheezed and gasped, slowly dying.
“I’ll place you in the heavens,” wept Zeus. “Forever with the stars.”
The Old Gods Home posted an ad for Doug’s replacement: “Good pay, great retirement benefits.”

Eden

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Ever since those humans were kicked out, it’s been pretty quiet back here in the Garden of Eden.
I’m the Gardener. I take care of the Garden.
Every day, I do an inventory of all the animals, just to make sure none are missing. They never do, but it doesn’t hurt to check.
Someone could get eaten by accident. Somehow.
Well, not really. There’s no need to eat here. Not even plants. Just soak up sunshine and dream all day long in perfect eternity.
Don’t tell God, but every now and then I punch a giraffe. Just for fuck’s sake.

Soda Bomb

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I’m an idiot.
I bought a case of Coke Zero the other day. You know, something different than the usual iced tea and water and red wine.
So I put a can in the fridge and one in the freezer.
Which did I drink? The one in the fridge.
Later, I needed some more ice, so I opened the freezer and…
Coke Zero everywhere.
I work at a place that has this sign on the break room fridge: “Do not put soda cans in the freezer or they will explode.”
I think I need one of those signs at home.

Locked

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I’m sure your computer guy sucks, but he’s nothing compared to our computer guy jerk Stan.
Stan once changed everybody’s email passwords, then when people asked what their new passwords were, he emailed them out to everyone.
As much as everyone complained, the company wouldn’t get rid of him. In fact, they gave him a raise and ordered him a company car.
The HR people were thoroughly disgusted, and then he showed up.
“Where’s my car?” asked Stan.
“It’s in your parking space,” the HR people said.
“Cool,” said Stan. “Where are the keys?”
“We locked them inside the car.”

Thumbs Up

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Alicia wasn’t just a thumb model, but she was the thumb model.
If you had a photo shoot that needed a close-up of the perfect thumb, you called Alicia.
Sure, it was her left thumb, but her left thumb reversed was better than any right thumb on the planet, too.
Ten years ago, it was insured for two million dollars, and on every billboard on every highway across America.
Then, she thumbed her nose at the whole shallow modeling industry.
Now, you’ll see it by the side of the road, hitching a ride just a little more down the way.

By The Barrel

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“Never pick a fight with someone who buys ink by the barrel,” slurred Mark Twain, staggering drunkenly in the street.
“Certainly, sir,” said the police officer. “But I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
“That’s because I buy wine by the barrel,” said Mark Twain, falling flat on his face in the dirt.
The officer dragged Twain back to the hotel lobby, and that’s when the newspaper office exploded.
“Great Scot!” shouted the cop.
“I also buy black powder by the barrel,” mumbled Twain. “That’ll teach the son of a bitch to be late paying me for my articles.”

Office Clown

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Ned was the office clown.
He put trick candles on birthday cakes for coworkers. They’d blow out, but the candles kept relighting themselves.
He loosened the wheels from office chairs. Everyone fell down and cracked their ass.
He stole all the toilet paper from the bathrooms. Paper towels, too. Folks started carrying their own.
He added Thalidomide to the water coolers. Then he’d knock up secretaries and they’d have twisted flipper-babies.
The judge didn’t find that last one funny.
Ned tried to be the clown of his cell block in prison. Instead, he ended up the bitch.
Now that’s funny.