At exactly midnight last night, I accidently caught a screwdriver on fire. "How did you manage this?" I asked myself. Ummm....it's a long story. When one works the night shift in a chemistry lab things happen you know. The hard part is explaining to your boss that you melted an honest to goodness screwdriver since this not exactly an everyday occurence.
"I'm not exactly sure, Mr. G. I walked back to the sulfur analyzer machine and noticed a little black plume of smoke wafting from the table. Upon further examination, I noticed a flaming mass of burning plastic. After repeated attempts to put it out, I finally used some metal tongs to toss it into a sink, where I then baptised the flaming tool."
My boss has a lot of stress in his life. This is despite the fact he's in his mid-50s and still lives at home with his mother.
I still have no idea who the canine was who called me yesterday. Any time a beast of the Earth rings you up requesting dialogue it...you would think...would be fairly important. Perhaps not.
Maybe a cat will call today.
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