Felt like crap Friday morning. Went to the job any way. I get paid as long as I can get myself through the sawmill gates, even if I spend most of my shift on the sawmill shitter.
I visited the sawmill shitter so many times I learned a few things about it. The seat is sticky as fuck, like somebody had smeared chocolate do-nuts on it since the last time the janitor had been by.
In the mid-afternoon I went for my last shit of the day. I was stuck there, on the verge of vomiting when it happened. Earthquake! Fuck! The sawmill was shaking like Jerry Lee Lewis in 1956. I would have fallen off the sawmill shitter except my ass was welded to it by all the stickiness of my brothers' sweaty sawmill asses.
My only thought, as the world shook uncontrollably around me, was, "Don't let me die on the sawmill shitter!"