I Am SO Going To Kick The Sandman's Ass...

Urk. My first impulse this morning—was to wait for this afternoon. I didn’t want to crawl out of bed. But crawl I did, and here I sit, wondering why there was enough sand waiting for me at my desk to drop a rhino.

A grain will make you rub your eyes and stifle a yawn. A pinch will take out a small child. A handful can put a healthy adult out like a light, if he’s willing. Of course, you can fight your way through it (not indefinitely); but I don’t recommend it. Sooner or later, the Sandman always wins.

I just wish he would show up earlier in the evening than he does. The tardy jackass is throwing off my internal clock something fierce, and he’s making hasty deliveries the following morning?? SO not going to happen. I got standards, chief. I got plans, a day job, rehearsals, and a fairly full schedule of plays to attend.

So, in light of all this, and the guy’s incessant habit of showing up at completely inappropriate times… I am going to kick the Sandman’s ass. He’s had it coming for weeks now.

I thought I would start with some casual conversation (don’t worry, the Sandman doesn’t read blogs, he won’t see this coming) with the guy, keep him around for an extra minute. Ask him how the wife is doing, how his kids are. The second he decides to stay and chat, I’ll grab his stupid hood and jerk it down over his face. Sucker punch. Right jab. I’ll bring my knee up to his stomach and maybe run him into a wall.

After I hit him many, many times about the head; I’ll make an ironic gift of a pocket watch. I’ll tell him if he shows up late one more time, or tries to visit me at work, the number I did on him this time will seem like a light massage. Jerkass.

And one to grow on! WHAM!