The Sandwich: #77

The Sandwich


I am sitting on a bus, which is parked in an underground cavern, waiting for it to set off for somewhere groovy. I have learned that the bus has already been here for several months, so it looks like I may have a bit of a wait. The only passengers are me and an old lady going clack-clack-clack with her knitting needles, but apparently there used to be a dozen or so others. Some of them got off and decided to walk and two or three were eaten. I didn't like the sound of that, especially since the old lady was looking at me hungrily, so I ding-ding-dinged on the bell to get the driver's attention and told him to get a move on because I had an important meeting to get to.

I didn't have an important meeting to get to, but I thought I'd tell him a bit of fib just to get him going. I used to do a job, long ago, where we had an important meeting every week. We would all gather round a big shiny table, and there would be a biscuit and coffee and an agenda. I always thought that an agenda was a large metal device with steam coming out of the top and a whirly thing on the side. I never saw one of those at the meeting, but I was assured that it was there. We all had to pay close attention to it, otherwise it would get angry. There was also a man who took minutes. I really envied him, since for the rest of us the meeting seemed to take hours.

I don't really know what the meeting was supposed to be for. Nothing ever got done as a result of it. Everyone just gossiped, or shouted at each other, or made jokes, and the man whose job it was to feed the agenda just got angrier and angrier. Anyway, the one good thing about being fired is that you don't have to go to meetings anymore.



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Medals for UK wallpapering squad.
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Ricky Stratocaster's history of Rock
Punching singers in the mouth
Traditional Oompah music under threat.
The dark side of interior decorating
Feral Sausages and malignant pork pies.


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