Here is a lil story here for you to enjoy. I wrote it about my work. I hope you like it. Thank you for reading.

PS stay tuned for some not exciting new projects soon! I’m working on them.


Last summer I ended up getting an internship since it seemed like the cool thing for a college student to do. I hopped on Craigslist and started searching. When I couldn’t find any casual sex partners that seemed suitable, I started looking for internships. After some trial and error, I ended up with one that looked promising, it spoke of online marketing, social media, writing, and it paid. I know this story is for a comedy class and there’s supposed to be jokes and embellishments in here and stuff, but that last part was serious, they wanted to pay me to be an intern. What a world.

I went to the interview with the nicest, classiest clothes my mom could pick out. The office was nice enough, just a nondescript office in a local office building. The first thing I noticed was that almost everyone was pregnant. The lady who interviewed me was super pregnant, there was another lady milling about who was pregnant, and two others were out on maternity leave. There was a guy named Gus who was my cubicle neighbor, and not the father of the babies as far as I know. Not that the pregnancies bothered me, I would have rubbed cocoa butter on their pregnant bellies if they wanted me to. They were going to pay me. Cocoa butter helps prevent stretch marks.

The interview went well, they had me show them around Facebook for a little while, show them how things work and I explained how I could make them a page for their company. They seemed impressed and offered me the job. Don’t ask me why. Hormones or something, probably.

I came in for my first day and a very nice pregnant lady with a snow white afro kind of hair… deal… told me about the company and about my job. They were a government contractors that went and cleaned up hazardous materials after NASA experiments and things like that. Don’t worry, there weren’t a bunch pregnant ladies shuffling around in HazMat suits cleaning up glowing green goo, they just handled administrative stuff within our office. No horrible Godzilla babies were born while I was there. Anyway, I was supposed to meet with the boss every other week and she’d give me an assignment to work on. Sounded doable. I will use this space mention again that they were paying me in this economy, and I will mention again this aspect of the story is not a joke or embellishment.

I met with the boss and got my first assignment: “Find out what Twitter is.” I could have told her right then, but I didn’t want to come on too strong, so I said I could do that no problem. Keep in mind, I had two whole work weeks to crack this mystery of “what is Twitter.” I could only find out so much information before it started messing with my head. What is Twitter, really? Does Twitter even really exist? Do I exist? What if life is just a dream?

Eventually I met with the boss after some extensive therapy, and as I began talking with her more, she started revealing that since their company works for the government they really have no need for any kind of marketing or web presence, and she pretty much just wanted me to make a Facebook page where her employees could post pictures of the thousands of babies that were being born at that company every day. So that was my next two week assignment. The Facebook page, not birthing babies.

As I mentioned before and you can probably see, I am in college, so I was able to make a Facebook page for the company in about an hour. I just hoped the Facebook servers were ready for the adorable tsunami of pictures that was headed their way. That left me around 59 hours with nothing to do. This might seem like a dream come true, but for me, it was pretty much the equivalent of selling a piece of my soul every hour. I watched my youth tick away while my paycheck slowly got bigger. Also it was boring.

Even though it was a mostly empty office, I still had my cubicle neighbor Gus sitting directly to my right, so I couldn’t really use the sound on my computer. I couldn’t even play dumb games on the internet because I was afraid Gus would hear my frantic clicking as I did my best to bejewel those damn jewels. I played solitaire for a while since it has the exact same click frequency as some kind of hard work (like a spreadsheet or something), but the boredom quickly took over.

One pregnant lady had already left, so by that time it was only me, Gus, and one remaining pregnant lady in an office that could easily fit 20 people. Note to self: possible sitcom idea? I discovered there was a moderate amount of entertainment in just listening to Gus and Pregnant Lady go about their day working and talking to themselves, which to me was like finding a glass of water in the desert. Also the sand in the desert was needles and everything was on fire. I spent a lot of money on a Creative Writing degree so I’m going to use it, okay? It was kind of like that.

The Pregnant Lady was on the phone for most of the day, and she kept telling her friends and family that she was more than ready to have this baby, and she wished someone would “cut her in half” just to get the baby out of her. She might have been hinting at me doing that, but that’s a doctor’s job, not mine. Gus pretty much just grunted and sneezed all day.

Finally, the last pregnant lady in the office left to have the doctor cut her in half, leaving me and Gus sitting next to each other in a large office. Things went normally for a few hours, but suddenly I noticed the frequent grunts and sneezes and other primal noises that usually came from Gus’ side had stopped. “This is it,” I thought. “The jig is up, Gus figured out I am bleeding the company of money. He knows about the bejewels and the solitaires. He knows I used one of his teabags in the kitchen.”

After a moment or two of silence, I heard a grunt and then a voice from the other side of the wall. “Hey Andy, mind coming over here for a second? I need a guru.”

I just started walking. How was I supposed to respond? What is a guru exactly? Am I a guru? Do I even exist?

I get over to the other side. Gus says, “do you hear those voices?”

“Huh? No. I don’t think so. What voices?”

“Hrmm they just stopped. There were voices coming out of my speakers.”

“Oh. Well. Hm maybe the speakers are picking up radio waves? I heard about that happening I think. Somewhere.”

“Yeah maybe that’s it. I don’t hear them anymore,” he said, grunting.

He motioned to a picture giant picture of a little kid on his computer desktop. The kid had teeth that looked like the top of a castle. He noticed I was looking at the picture and said, “That’s my grandkid, Evan. He’s a handful, lemme tell ya. Your resume said you’ve worked with kids, right?”

“Oh. Yeah I’ve done some tutoring. Might even be a teacher someday. Who knows.”

“Oh yeah they’re a handful all right! My grandkid Evan can get a little wild sometimes, you know what I mean? Yeah you do. If he gets too wild sometimes I put a belt under his arms and hang him from a doorknob. Ohh don’t worry, he has fun with it, I swear. He really does! He swings back and forth, kicking his legs, smiling the whole time. I’m nice to him, I promise. As a treat, sometimes I’ll put him in his high chair, cover him in syrup, and pour Cheerios over him. He goes wild. He eats the cheerios off himself. It’s really a treat for him. What a treat.”

After a long pause, I said, “So… no more voices, then?”

“Nope, looks like they’ve stopped.”

“Well, I’m gonna head back to my desk.”