Monday, June 20, 2005

Nothing but the best for our corpses

There's been a white hearse parked outside of my office since 6:30 this morning. The driver is moseying around the courtyard by the front doors, occasionally glancing at his watch. I keep picturing him as one of those chauffeurs you see at the airport, looking professional but bored, and holding up a little cardboard sign that reads "You."

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