Last night, my dear compatriots, was fantastic. Without a doubt, I am probably the peppiest Monday-Morning Blog Poster out there right now. Let me relate to you the story of my happiness.
It had been a long, exhausting weekend. After Detective Telea has finished her beat on the ACT (The Assassin Core Test) she proceeded to the park, where she hung for a while and got a deliciously natural tan. Afterwards, some dancing bullshit went down at the school, and then she went back to her home, where she was later greeted by Handbasket, Stanley, Bre, and Jesus. There was a chillfest. Then the chillfest ended. Handbasket slept over, and let me tell you, Detective Telea and Handbasket had a good old time.
On Sunday, the intrepid detective was positive that nothing would happen, so she cat-napped until four. At four, she awoke to a text from Sly Foxx, who was head of the beat over at the PSAOB (Acronym Unavailable). He wanted to glean precious information from Detective Telea, but she didn’t have a ride. Another agent, by the name of Jon (Code name: The Mexican) volunteered to drive, and so Sly Foxx, The Mexican, PB, and that one chick drove over to the secret meeting spot where Telea shared her info.
There was a snag in the path, though. Telea’s Head Director (A.K.A Father) caught them sneaking onto the beat, and he was pissed.
“I am incredibly disappointed in you for sharing secrets with other Agencies, Detective Telea. You have now been demoted from Detective to Rookie.”
“But I’ve been on the job for years.”
“Doesn’t matter. This is the first and last time I will allow this to happen.”
So, an exchange of information went down, and it was a grand old time for everyone involved. Except for Rookie Telea, who lost her job and respect. But that doesn’t matter.
Oh, to fill in some details…Sly Foxx is future husband material.
Today, my friends, is a Monday. I hate Mondays with every fiber of my being. There’s only one things worse than a Monday…A Monday morning. There’s a band called Hey Monday. I never listen to their music because their band title makes me far too depressed to even get out of bed in the morning. Who says hello to Monday?
Every Monday, I wake up, and the first thing out of my mouth is…
“Monday, you need to go the fox away before I kill you.”
Of course, Monday doesn’t feel threatened by me in any respect, and just goes:
“Bench, I’ll be back next week.”
So, that’s the lame story of all of my stories, and I keep promising you better material and I keep not pulling through…Soooo…awkward.
Tomorrow, I swear.