Sleepy Time Michael
It’s been day four of little to no sleep and I think the couch in my office just sent me an Evite to come over and lay down on it. I will have to respectfully decline this electronic invitation because I must finish editing this commercial for Non-Gee-No De-O, the deodorant stick with no GMOs for less BO. I’ve been putting in my normal 12 hour days working on this project, and I have plenty of time to sleep after I play a few games of online Magic Chat when I get home. My problem is that I can’t sleep when I get into bed because of my dog Walker’s excruciating flatulence. My dog smells like a crown of broccoli that has been rotting in a three month old carton of milk that was placed in the Men’s bathroom at Frijoles Mexican Restaurant. I’ve actually vomited on my Battlestar Galactica sheets last night because the smell was so pungent.
I recently had to change Walker’s food because he was shedding so much dandruff that I thought I would be arrested on felony drug charges for distributing and manufacturing cocaine. I switched dog foods to an all organic chicken, chick pea, and kale mixture. Now the smell in my apartment has gotten so bad that my downstairs neighbors have started to complain which is ironic because they always smell like skunk and armpit. Walker demands that he sleeps in my bed, so sleep has become a privilege in my household.
It’s hard to keep my eyes open and I feel like my mouth is constantly yawning. In fact, Roland and Noah made a game out of my yawning habit by walking by my open door and trying to throw balled up post-it notes in my gaping mouth. They call it Michael Ball. Unfortunately I can say that Roland is currently winning 5 to 3…
Oh hello Mr. Plant. What’s that you say? You are thirsty and you want some water? Guys, my plant just asked me for some water. I’m a little embarrassed because I don’t have any water. Okay, what should I do here? Right, let’s try to reason with the plant. I don’t want it to freak out. “Well Mr. Plant, I am sad to say that I don’t have any water right now. Can you please wait?” Alright guys, the plant just said that he wants me to go get him some water right now. I think he’s starting to get steamed. “Wait, what’s that plant?” Crap, he wants me to get him some of Jackie’s water. Go figure, this plant has some great taste in beverage choice. Fine, let’s try and get some of Jackie’ water.
First things first, I have to stand up out of my chair. Uh oh, the ground is made of hydrogen plasma. Good thing I just bought some British Knight plasma resisting shoes. “Plasma Vector on!” I purchased the voice activated model and because of this model, I have to constantly say “weee wooo, weee wooo” as I walk or else the plasma vector resisting core will charge down and I will sink to my death in this atomic sludge.
I made it out the editing bay door. Uh oh, here comes Josh, aka Annoying Guy, aka Vesty McVesterson, aka The Greasy Curl. Maybe he won’t notice me if I turn my head inside my body cavity. If that “Weird Body Tricks” internet forum is correct, then all I have to do is suck in air, hold my breath, and pull my hair from behind. Well here goes nothing, “Gasp!”
It worked! Josh is looking at me strangely, but he’s not trying to talk to me in his shrieky falsetto voice. Minor crisis averted. Ah crap, my legs are stuck. That’s right, my Plasma Vector BKs couldn’t hear my weee wooos when my head was inside my chest, but that’s okay because the ground is now solidified and there’s no need for my plasma vectors anymore. Unfortunately the gravi-cronians created by the shoes have caused them to permanently fuse to the floor. I’ll need to take off my shoes, which is actually beneficial because now I can sneak up on Jackie easier.
I have to get past Roland the Blue Meanie in order to get to Jackie’s highly coveted water. Oh great, Roland just grew ten feet tall and he’s going drop a Baldwin Apple on me that’s going to drain me of all my color and petrify me. Not so fast you Apple Bonker! I’m going to cure your fascist ways with music, man! “Hey Bungalow Bill, what did you kill, Bungalow Bill?! Hey Bungalow Bill, what did you kill…”
I saw Jackie walk from behind me from the corner of my eye, but I can’t move for some reason. “How long has he been like this?” Jackie said to Roland.
“He’s been singing that same line for the last fifteen minutes. I’ve already got a video of him, posted it on You Tube, and it just hit 1000 views.” Roland responded back.
“Well he can’t be like this all day. We have a non-GMO deodorant commercial to finish. Michael, wake up. Wake up, Michael!” I could hear Jackie say these words, but for some reason I could not respond. “Michael, what’s wrong with you?”
I mustered up all my strength to say what was going on, but all I could say was “Farts, faaaaaarts. Bad…Dog. Baaaad.”
“What the hell are you saying Michael?!”Jackie exclaimed.
“I think I overheard Michael telling Amanda that he can’t get any sleep at night because his dog keeps passing gas.”
“That would explain why Michael smells like a futbol’s player’s foot that was recently removed from a horse’s arse . Michael! MICHAL!!!” I barely came to; just enough to faintly respond. “Michael, I want you to go sleep in your car for a few minutes and come back up to finish your commercial.” I nodded and headed and for the door.
And that’s the story, kids, of how I kind of slept next to Jackie.











