Immmmmmmmportant!

By Chie Theresa Fujioka

As i dug through old stories i have written i stumbled, fell and cracked my skull upon this thihng. it stood out in its evanishiosity so i decided to post it :-p

As he closed the heavy plastic door to the office, the guy thought over the day. He turned the lock with his large Fischer Price key; his girlfriend had dumped him this morning for another man. Actually other men. Actually boys. For that matter girls, too. They were in her kindergarten class. She had called that morning saying they were going out. To the zoo. She used to always take only him to the zoo. He glanced at his watch. It was broken. It always was. Every time he got it fixed, it would break. Maybe because he always forgot to take it off when swimming. Even though he always swam with his safe-T floaties. The time read 12:03 pm. He never was late for a single thing because all his appointments were at 12:03. "Is it really lunch?" he wondered. "Maybe I should move to a different timezone every hour so that my watch will always be correct." He nodded... what a smart idea. It was important to always have the right time. But he was tired and decided to proscrastinate. Procrastination is also very important. If no one procrastinated, there would be no jobs, and a higher unemployment rate. He slung an empty laptop bag onto his shoulder, congratulation himself on his large knowledge. The bag was always empty. Well he used to carry a laptop in it. but the laptop was broken. What's the point of carrying around a broken laptop?? The bag was very important. It made him look important. Looking important was very important. If you don't look important, no one will think you are important. HE unlike some people, understood the importance of importance. He smirked and walked down the deserted hallway of the office suite building. It was all his. He bought it from a homeless guy for a good price. It was the home of the homeless guy. It was going to be demolished. It was good to give money to the homeless. But not too good. It was not important, since then everyone would be homeless to get free money, which would make the unemployment rate go up. The rate was very important. It had to be low, or else the millenium would come before he got his paycheck. He was self-employed. His steel toed boots clunk-clunked each time he put his foot down on the soft plush carpet lining the hall. He had gone to much effort to get all the carpet squares to match, and then sew them together. He loved homemade carpet. His customer did too. His customer was the homeless guy. Homeless people were important too. Without them there would be no rate. He always wore his steel toe boots, because he was always prepared for safety. Danger was important. Without them, insurance workers would not have a job. That meant a higher rate. Bad bad bad. At work, there are many dangers. That's why he wore a hard hat to work every day, with pride. (Pride can be bad when it makes you quit your job. That lowers the allmighty RATE! That puts more of your money into welfare!) You never knew when those omniously tilting piles of paperwork would fall on the unsuspecting head or foot. He understood the importance of safety. If you weren't safe, doctors would have a better job, but they charge so much, insurance companies would lose money, resulting in layoffs. Bad for the rate, doncha know? Before he entered the elevator, he strapped on his elbow, knee, and wrist guards. He put on his parachute bag. As he shuffled into the elevator, unable to lift his legs for the boots and the knee pads, he tripped over the edge, falling forward. He pulled the D-ring to slow his fall. His other appendages were too immobilized by the safety gear. He landed softly, face down on the elevator floor, the parachute softly billowed out behind him. These things could really save your life if you fell. It only mattered if employed people died. If the unemployed died, the unemployment rate would go down, but if workers died, then the rate would go up! And we don't want that do we? No. The elevator door closed as he got up from the floor. As he got up and turned around, it tore. He swore. "Jibbly Gibbets! Good Lore!" Longer than a day these parachutes never lasted more. At least they lasted once, but buying them was a great chore. Shopping was a bore. *Intermission: Delayed Cadence, Delayed Cadence, Delayed Cadence, Count! 1! I don't hear you! 2! Little louder now! 3! Sound like girl scouts! 4! All together now! 1! HIT IT! 2! HIT IT! 3! HIT IT! 4! HIT IT! 1-2-3-4! RESERVE OFFICER TRAINING CORPS! OOH-RAH! OOH-RAH! OOH-RAH!!! End Intermission* Well at least the chutes lasted longer than no times at all. He pushed all the floor buttons. It was polite to do that. That way anyone waiting for the elevator wouldn't have to wait at all. No one ever got on. But politeness is important. Floor by floor, he slowly descended from the 4oth floor. "Why did they make elevators anyway when using stairs was faster?" he wondered. He was very very hungry. He had forgotten to bring his R.M.E.s. He always ate R.M.E.s. Eating was very important. It gave janitors (excuse me, hygenic engineers), and mechanically separated chicken packers, and toilet designers (again, I apologize, it should be waste disposal engineers), french fry friers, and mustard makers, and all sorts of people jobs. He pulled out a stick of double-mint gum. It was important to have good breath. How else would the laydeeze like you? "Do it right, de-lite, tonite. OOOhh YEEAAAhhh babeez!" he sang. At the lobby floor, the doors opened once again. He passed the no-longer homeless guy he had made into a night guard. He payed him by letting him keep the important papers he stole in the middle of the night from the building. Night guards were important too. They kept things from getting stolen. He walked outside into the cool, crisp Louisiana air. Well, it wasnt really "cool and crisp," it was muggy and spongey, but I like the words cool and crisp better. He passed his broken Chevy Colt. Chevy didn't make the Colt. Ford did. But his was a Chevy. It was always broken. He never drove it, but it was important to have a car. He waved for a taxi, hoping that he wouldn't get the cab that was moldy green. Inside and outside, complete with fuzz. The driver with a head of broccoli pulled his moldy green cab up to the curb. Sighing, he looked in the window to observer the current inhabitants of the cab. Yesterday was a slimy, rotten banana. The day before, a cold cup of mocha. FujiMocha to be exact. Today, it was a none too fresh looking mango. Another guy, who will be known as the other guy, got out of the cab. "Bye, Smell E. Gye!" he yelled back as he fled from the methane flavoured cloud pursuing him from out of the door. Smell E. Gye was the driver with the broccoli head and hot dog bun buns. Holding his breath, the guy, not the other guy, opened the door and picked up the mango, planning to throw it out onto the concrete behind. "Stop!! How dare you do that to one of my passengers!?!?" Gye asked. The Mango was squishy and sticky (and quite sweet *giggles*). "Okay, okay... Squishy Mango, may I please have your seat?" "What?! Is this the kind of service I am paying for?" it said, handing Gye it's fare and hopping out the other door. As the guy slid in by the moldy muffin, Gye's broccoli head berated him for causing him the loss of a passenger. He smelled. The car reeked. Smells were very important. They drove down an important main road.

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