What I also know, is that they have the ability to completely ruin the mind of people like myself. People who are unintelligible, intolerant, selfish, full-on screaming-baby-hating motherfuckers.
People who just want to have a sandwich and a packet of crisp with a little bit of peace and quiet at lunchtime. People who leave the office. Leave the ringing of phones, the chattering of mongified colleagues, leaving the chuntering and scratching of a keyboard and mouse combo.
People like me.
shrieking fills my head up with pins and needles, shoving a fist of cotton wool between my brain and it’s thoughts, instructions and above all else, my eating.
I wonder if it’s physically possible to crank one out while your next-door neighbor’s little shit-machine screams its fucking head off. The answer is a most definite, probably. But that’s all you’d be capable of. Wiping up? No. Re-clothing? No. Gentleman’s wash? NO.
Next time you’re at the gates of hell, lift the letterbox up and gently push your ear towards the slot. Hear that? The eternal screaming of the damned?
That’s stopping me eating my lunch.