WORK

I was waiting for the bus a while ago and this guy comes up and asks if I want to buy a copy of the glorious people’s paper. I told him that I only had enough money for the bus. He said that to be free from the shackles of the ‘pressive “bushwaazee” was worth a  walk home. I told him I wasn’t shackled and he told me I was fooling myself and that I was being groomed for a life of mindless servitude. I guess I did have to do the dishes a lot and take out the trash and make my bed. He said the man was keeping me down. I said it wasn’t a man it was my aunt. I didn’t want to do any more chores so I bought a paper. It was filled with happy looking people holding tools and articles I couldn’t understand. When I finally got home I told my aunt I wasn’t going to do the dishes because I didn’t want to be chained with depression. Then I gave her the newspaper. She told me it was all about workers and if I was that interested in work I could start by doing the dishes. Stupid paper.