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A Day in a Modern American Life of an Ordinary Loser (Like You)
You’re having a dream about work again. In it, an endless line of business people holding loose pieces of paper leads to the mouth of your cubicle, where you are frantically searching for staples to feed the two staplers that have grown in place of your hands. But to your aggravation, you realize that even if you could find any, you couldn't load them on account of your having staplers for hands, and nobody seems to be willing to help. The lady at the front of the line is staring at you with her mouth half open.
She says, "Can I get these stapled?"
You're awakened by the shrill buzzing of your alarm clock. You look down with mild relief at your hands, which remain flesh and bone. Beside you, your grouchy wife, who’s aged terribly since your wedding day, is sleeping in a huge tent-like t-shirt covered with teddy bears and hearts, snoring like a fisherman. Your eyes slide down her body and stop on her flat, formless ass. Suddenly, you feel slightly aroused.
Do you make a move or do you save a scrap of dignity?