The Yuppies vs The Executives
It's like Alien vs Predator, but with more mandibles and scarier weapons.
I spent the weekend holed up in my apartment, hiding from Executive revenge which never came. The bastards are playing it cool, they know I'm on the run after last week's escapades. They know there's no hurry and they're closing in on me in their own good time.
A weekend on my own, you're thinking, in my own apartment. Finally I can calm down, come back to terms with the real world and move on from last week's trauma. A beautiful thought, and I thank you for it. (Honestly, thanks. I'll get you a beer sometime.) But wrong. (So you owe me a beer now, too. We'll have to do a trade off because as everybody knows beer-debts, like all drink-debts, are non-negotiable, non-transferable, do not cancel each other out and cannot be traded for cash, other goods or services. Get we to a brewery.) Because the calm after the Executive storm only gave way to Attack of the Yuppies.
The Yuppies are everywhere in my apartment complex, dining in the restaurants and shopping in the shops downstairs, wandering the concourses, and of course living in the apartments. They stroll, arm in arm, blankly staring at what passes for quality art or quality footwear or quality travelling accoutrements. They sit, blankly staring at what passes for quality cuisine, drinking quality plonk and nibbling on quality snacks. They drive quality four wheel drives or sports cars to blankly browse in the quality shops and blankly breathe the just plain quality that my apartment complex exudes.
Yuppy: a good life given to the wrong person.
I am going to subvert them. I'm starting small. I will wear my ugliest clothes and my homeless man rags and walk to close to them. I will be loud and uncouth and have footpath parties. Hell, I'll even talk to them. They won't know what to make of that. Not if it's not about real estate.
So the yuppies are trying to destroy my soul via a sped up process of erosion, while the executives mean to explode it with a pervasive and mystical fury. These are interesting times, my friends, interesting times indeed. Pray for me.
I spent the weekend holed up in my apartment, hiding from Executive revenge which never came. The bastards are playing it cool, they know I'm on the run after last week's escapades. They know there's no hurry and they're closing in on me in their own good time.
A weekend on my own, you're thinking, in my own apartment. Finally I can calm down, come back to terms with the real world and move on from last week's trauma. A beautiful thought, and I thank you for it. (Honestly, thanks. I'll get you a beer sometime.) But wrong. (So you owe me a beer now, too. We'll have to do a trade off because as everybody knows beer-debts, like all drink-debts, are non-negotiable, non-transferable, do not cancel each other out and cannot be traded for cash, other goods or services. Get we to a brewery.) Because the calm after the Executive storm only gave way to Attack of the Yuppies.
The Yuppies are everywhere in my apartment complex, dining in the restaurants and shopping in the shops downstairs, wandering the concourses, and of course living in the apartments. They stroll, arm in arm, blankly staring at what passes for quality art or quality footwear or quality travelling accoutrements. They sit, blankly staring at what passes for quality cuisine, drinking quality plonk and nibbling on quality snacks. They drive quality four wheel drives or sports cars to blankly browse in the quality shops and blankly breathe the just plain quality that my apartment complex exudes.
Yuppy: a good life given to the wrong person.
I am going to subvert them. I'm starting small. I will wear my ugliest clothes and my homeless man rags and walk to close to them. I will be loud and uncouth and have footpath parties. Hell, I'll even talk to them. They won't know what to make of that. Not if it's not about real estate.
So the yuppies are trying to destroy my soul via a sped up process of erosion, while the executives mean to explode it with a pervasive and mystical fury. These are interesting times, my friends, interesting times indeed. Pray for me.
posted by Lackey | 2:30 pm
2 Comments:
yes well give them a piece of your quality mind i say, im heading down for brekky braless, no shoos and beer in hand to buy quality ham, which by the way aint to bad for a spot of lolling in the park with...mmm rather
Can't find my quality mind, but at least I use what I've got for good. Like imagining clothes aren't there, or finding ways to skive or inventing new Costanzas.
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