Weren't You Just Dying To Know?

Found on the street. Now, who could throw away something so precious?

And Then I Quit

DAY 1

Boss: Do you smoke THE MARIJUANNAAAAAAAAAAAA?!

Is this a trick question?

Me: Occasionally, I guess.

My boss approaches me and shoves a huge bowl of green spices underneath my nose. I cringe, and he cackles wildly, returning to the stove where he resumes his favorite song of which the unique lyrics are " LA LA LA LA LA."

After having finished washing the dishes.

Me: What do I do now?

Boss: Dance!

Me: I can't dance.

Boss: Then sing!

Me: I can't sing!

Boss: Then what can you do?


After spilling water on the floor.

Boss: DON'T WORRY. BE HAPPY.

DAY 2

Boss: How many boyfriends you have?

Me: You mean right now? One. How many wives do you have--

Boss: NO NO. Not right now, in your life!

Boss: You know which ones are the samosas?

Me: Yes. ( points to samosa case)

Boss: Good girl!

Slaps my ass.

DAY 3 ( non-working day)

I open my cellphone and I have two new voicemails. Both are from work. My boss wants me to work tonight, as I already told him yesterday I can't work tonight.

I call back.

Me: Hi, it's Venetia.

Boss: Hi Netia. Why you don't pick up your phone?!

Me: I was at a play, I had to turn off my phone.

Boss: Why!? You working tonight at 6:30!?

Me: No, I told you I can't, I have a huge exam tomorrow.

Boss: OK OK. BYE.

The Bane of My Night Part II

My mother passes by the door frame. I call out, in desperation.
"Mom!"
She enters, perplexed.
I beckon her towards the bed.
" Do you hear that?" I demand with haggard eyes.
" Hear what?"
" THAT SOUND SEBASTIAN IS MAKING."
Of course, even in his sleep, Sebastian must spite me. The heavy breathing has transformed itself into something barely audible.
I insist, " Imagine that, but AMPLIFIED!"
" SHHHH! He has school tomorrow!"
I reach out for my mother's arm, and miss, instead grabbing her breast.
For the first time that night, it would be silent.

Fuck my night.

The Bane of My Night ( not to mention my existence)

For reasons beyond comprehension, for the first time in a long time, I am sharing a room with my younger brother.
I'm contemplating killing him.
In a state of profound slumber, a strange expression of pain drawn out across his face like some grotesque mask, he wheezes with every breath he takes. After many telepathic attempts at silencing him, I finally resort to pressing one ear against the mattress while covering the other with a pillow, I cry out, "STOP!" And he does, momentarily. However his heavy constipated breathing is now replaced by strange vocalizations recalling either demonic possession or mongolian throat singing.
Do not be deceived by this angelic picture, as his unconscious cries prove, the devil resides within him.