Perhaps
He thought, “Perhaps I’d be more successful if not for the fact that my most exhilarating moments in life involve watching what other people do with theirs.”
There’s no sense in crying over spilled sugar.
The kind of day
Where your entire ceiling is made of cotton balls and dryer lint and craft glue.
I filled out my census form. It’s for the asteroid report. Line 6 asked me if I had formulated any plans of late— especially any the nature of which is to crash into your planet.
I wrote “I hadn’t thought about it.” That is, until now.
“Oh man, oh my, oh me.
That Fred sure is tasty.”
Sewing machine operator
Two figures stand outside the window. They were slowest in the herd and thus got left behind, simply by necessity.
The head of the pack, unfortunately first to make it indoors, mouths, “Don’t break in. It’s a trap. DON’T.”
However, they refuse to heed his advice. Instead they unlatch the panels and crawl surreptitiously on their bellies into the midst of the crowd. Their leader shakes his head solemnly, wondering why he even bothered delivering such a warning.
The two latecomers soon realize their mistake. A woman stands before them all, fiddling incompetently with various technologies and lecturing on the poor job prospects for sewing machine operators in the twenty-third century.
Suddenly the woman addresses these two, much to their horror. She says, “You have been to elementary school, yes? Tell me, what did you enjoy? Did the cutting and pasting of shapes give you pleasure?”
They glance first at one another and then back at the woman. The smaller of the two shrugs and says, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Spotting a diversion, the leader winks at nearby members of the herd and quickly vacates the area.
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