Monday, January 03, 2005

Modern Torture Chambers

So I'm back at work and I'm merrily prancing to the break room to heat up some lunch and I walk by the cleaning lady who is sitting talking on the phone at an empty desk and I over hear her say, "...well you sound like you're in a dungeon." And wouldn't you know it, my imagination kicks into high gear.

What exactly does one sound like when talking on the phone in a dungeon? How many dungeons are there that have phone access? Are there even dungeons perse still in use in the year 2005? And what's the point of being in a dungeon if you can take calls in the middle of the day from your disgusting whore friends anyway?

Even worse, what if the friend you call is actually IN a dungeon? How embarrassing is that? Would they admit to it? Would you? Would I?

When I was a kid, it was considered a "bad thing" - punishment even - to be in a dungeon. No windows, no TV, and certainly no mid-day telephone calls from friends. And you know what? We liked it that way. It made us more thankful for the things we took for granted once we got out of there.

But not today. No, siree. Cell phones, portable DVD players, Gameboys...bah. Kids today. No wonder they're all spoiled brats. What we need are some good old fashioned dungeons. The kind with damp walls, dangling chains, and yes, bad acoustics.

Great. Now I'm depressed and my lunch is all gone.

4 comments:

Blog ho said...

Perhaps you just feel like you're in prison. You know, kind of like that...I've been away from work for weeks and weeks and now I'm back and I'm really in prison.

Or perhaps it's that I returned your mom dirty and broken.

Or perhaps it's because you work around people who have the kinds of friends who would be in a dungeon.

I love you, chief. Really. Sexually. Happy New Year's, sweetie.

PS when gay marriage is legal, you will be mine.

Chief Wannahockaloogy said...

Before you own half of everything of mine, I won't have you.
Is it hot in here, or is it just me? No, wait. My bad; my pants were on fire.
I mean they ARE on fire.

MY PANTS ARE ON FIRE!!

Anti-Blogger said...

I always thought you two would hook up. And the good news is that I won the office pool of when it would happen. It was one of the more popular office pools, so I got a lot of money.

As a wedding present I will send you a truck-load of 2-ply tissue.

~kimberly~ said...

*perks*......dungeon?
.....
....
...
..
.
*grabs some 2-ply and blushes on her way out*

About Me, Not You

I was christened Wannahockaloogy by our tribal leader. He was a bitter old man with throat cancer who believed that, to truly hock a loogie, one must not retrieve the phlegm from the throat, but from the soul. His weakened, delirious state made it easy for me to overthrow him and seize control. Now, I am the chief and I have internet access. Beware, delirious smoking populace. Beware.