Dante's Seventh ring of hell revisited.

I roll out of bed, still hazy with exhaustion, I open the door and step out into the Mountain View Trailer Park. My clothes are in different stages of cleanliness, and I think I forgot to shower last night. No matter these laid back country folk wouldn't notice anyway. I spew gravel out behind my tuck as I pull onto a redneck backwoods highway. Only a few miles to work stuck behind some knob job going ten miles an hour under under the speed limit. I arrive at the slaughterhouse of a grocery store to find that their "low price gasoline" is going to push back that root canal I need for another few months. The electricians are reminicant of rats, not only in their looks, which were like tiny hideous rodents trying to squeeze out a pellet, but their demenor as well, huddling in corners giggling with each other. The refrigeration guy , who looks like he might be a retired clown, starts out all his complaints with "Hey I'm not trying to bitch here, but...". The Superintendant Couldn't fight his way out of a burning paper bag with an ocean of water. He is rolled over by the other tradesmen there like a high school floozy by the football team. Then decides that to make himself look like he might have some small amount of control over the myriad of failure that is this job he takes outhis frusterations on me. Thats ok though I'm only sitting on the edge of a pit, which the edge's are ringed with cold partially dried grease from the "gourmet wok" which also is ringed with an inch of grease, digging through sandstone until my hands bleed.

To be continued.....