Humor Magazine

Oh, You Know. Just Squeakin' By.

By Pearl
There is a drawer at my desk that currently contains a can of organic carrot soup, an envelope of dried soup, canned peaches, a ziploc baggie of dried apricots, and, for crying out loud, a dozen packets of Kikkoman soy sauce.
Good heavens.  What am I preparing for?
Canned food.  Dried fruits.  Lotion, band aids, birthday candles.  Wrist guards, silverware, a spare umbrella.  Salt packets, dried-up pens.  A bottle of Beano sent by one's sister, who worries, often and aloud, about office courtesy.
It is when the sky grows dark, with thunderstorms, blizzards and/or black helicopters that I imagine, all over the world, the drawers of the terminally employed.  In my mind, I go quickly from Pearl, Office Wonder Grunt, to Pearl, Last Woman on Earth, skittering through the Habitrail-like skyways and tunnels of Minneapolis, gleaning the canned fruits and extra socks from the abandoned offices of downtown office workers, stopping, perhaps, to nibble, nervously and mouse-like, on random packets of saltines...
Wait.  Am I a rodent now?

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