Pants Down, Blood in the Bowl, Fuck Mondays
It’s Monday. I’m currently sitting on the throne, pants around my ankles, green halo flickering like a cheap motel sign with a handful of toothless hookers sitting on the curb. Phone in hand. Eyes half-open. Brain fully offline.
Just finished my business, looked down, and spotted some blood in the bowl. Now I’m sitting here quietly trying to figure out if the blood I just shit means I’m going to die soon or if I simply pushed a little too hard. Classic Monday dilemma for a guy who’s already slightly deceased. Halo’s still faintly glowing, so I’m voting “pushed too hard” and filing it under “not today’s problem.” Not like I was planning on living forever anyway.
The weekend? Buried it somewhere between the recliner and a six-pack of Piss Water. Now reality is knocking, and I’m pretending I’m not home.
I should probably stand up at some point. Slide into the wrinkled blue button-down and navy slacks that make me look like a moderately successful corpse attending a budget review. The official uniform of the slightly deceased professional. Socks. Shoes. The whole sad little costume. Then I’ll shuffle out the door and pretend I’m “back to work.”
Do I give a single fuck about any of it?
Not even a microscopic one.
The inbox is already screaming. Thirty-seven unread emails titled things like “URGENT: Q2 Synergy Alignment Deck Due Yesterday.” I read the subject lines. That’s my contribution for the day. Slack is blowing up with people who somehow still have the energy to care about pivot tables. I mute them all. The 10 a.m. status meeting? I’ll be there in body. Camera on, soul in another dimension, nodding like a bobblehead that’s seen some shit.
My slightly deceased ass has reached peak efficiency: bare minimum effort, maximum plausible deniability. I’ve been on life support since 2021. Deadlines don’t scare me. Performance reviews are just polite suggestions from the living. Traffic on the way in? Whatever. That passive-aggressive “just circling back” email from fat Debra in Accounting? I literally do not have the blood flow for this.
If you see me shuffling around the office today looking like I rose from the grave specifically for this 45-minute sync about expense reports… yeah, that’s accurate. Halo still technically intact. Expression permanently set to “fine.”
So happy fucking Monday, you beautiful living bastards. May your coffee be full of strong booze and your will to live… well, whatever scraps are left of it.
I’m going back to scrolling.