Because he was short and therefore inferior, he was forced to work with carcinogens. This had a deleterious effect on his little wife and children. After scouring the last vat, he trudged back to the apartment, stripped to his waist, and lay face down on the kitchen table. His wife massaged him from the small of his back to the tight black curls on his head, which did not grow. Unfortunately her small pink fingers could not knead his tense muscular back very well.
Not far away, third drink in hand, his boss, who was portly not short, sat glumly in his enclosed porch: how he hated his job!
submitted at 10:41pm
3 May 2009