Conversations during work
Oct. 22nd, 2008 12:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeanvieveDave: You're so clever
Me: I know
Me: I can hardly live with myself.
Dave: Oh Brunhilde, You're so lovely
Me: Yes I know it, I can't help it
Dave: Kitchen not done and real estate market in the toilet
Dave: And the Holidays rushing up like some sort of mad ... rushing things
Me: Plus as you know driving across the Rockies in winter sucks ass.
Dave: It sucked about as little as it possibly could when we did it
Dave: But that's not saying much
Dave: Driving across the Cascades sucked some fairly major ass though
Me: It was a magic weekend
Me: Beautiful weather. Only occasionally pulling over for you to puke.
Dave: Yeah, about that. How come I pay for your good luck?
Me: Somehow you owe me a karmic debt. Perhaps once I was a slave on your plantation.
Dave: I hope I beat you regularly
Dave: And that you forgave me on your deathbed
Dave: And I spit into your shallow grave
Me: Bah. This is the voodoo curse on your latest generation.
Dave: And burned the simple wooden flute that was your only worldly possession
Me: Releasing the bound spirits of my ancestors. You eventually died in a buggy wreck with another brougham.
Me: Starting the cycle of wrecks in which the fates of our lineage is bound.
Dave: Yes, I suffered for hours pinned beneath my dying coach-horse as a nearby ancestor of Michael Jackson sang repetitive spirituals out of key. Even then, I don't think we're really balancing the scales for your phenomenal luck at my expense. I think you're going to have to go into slavery again for a couple more incarnations.
Me: Hey, I occasionally washed your Judo Gis. That alone counts as a kind of penitential suffering in the handling.
Dave: Don't try to mollify me with your feeble protestations. It's not my sense of karmic justice you have to satisfy here, it's the Fates'.
Dave: Word is they're a much tougher crowd.
Me: Atropos runs with scissors.
Me: I know
Me: I can hardly live with myself.
Dave: Oh Brunhilde, You're so lovely
Me: Yes I know it, I can't help it
Dave: Kitchen not done and real estate market in the toilet
Dave: And the Holidays rushing up like some sort of mad ... rushing things
Me: Plus as you know driving across the Rockies in winter sucks ass.
Dave: It sucked about as little as it possibly could when we did it
Dave: But that's not saying much
Dave: Driving across the Cascades sucked some fairly major ass though
Me: It was a magic weekend
Me: Beautiful weather. Only occasionally pulling over for you to puke.
Dave: Yeah, about that. How come I pay for your good luck?
Me: Somehow you owe me a karmic debt. Perhaps once I was a slave on your plantation.
Dave: I hope I beat you regularly
Dave: And that you forgave me on your deathbed
Dave: And I spit into your shallow grave
Me: Bah. This is the voodoo curse on your latest generation.
Dave: And burned the simple wooden flute that was your only worldly possession
Me: Releasing the bound spirits of my ancestors. You eventually died in a buggy wreck with another brougham.
Me: Starting the cycle of wrecks in which the fates of our lineage is bound.
Dave: Yes, I suffered for hours pinned beneath my dying coach-horse as a nearby ancestor of Michael Jackson sang repetitive spirituals out of key. Even then, I don't think we're really balancing the scales for your phenomenal luck at my expense. I think you're going to have to go into slavery again for a couple more incarnations.
Me: Hey, I occasionally washed your Judo Gis. That alone counts as a kind of penitential suffering in the handling.
Dave: Don't try to mollify me with your feeble protestations. It's not my sense of karmic justice you have to satisfy here, it's the Fates'.
Dave: Word is they're a much tougher crowd.
Me: Atropos runs with scissors.
