The Boss and I: A Short Play

Act I

Boss: Dave, the journal didn't settle yesterday. I want you to look at it and find out what's wrong.

Me: I am terrible at math. Why do you think I was an English major?

Boss: I don't care. I am a tyrant. Go do it so I can interrupt you many times to see if you've finished.

Act II

(Here we see Blogagaard struggling with calculator, many sheets of paper with numbers on them, insurance checks, EOMBs, etc. He is dressed in the same shirt he's been wearing at this job for three years, and now he must wear his only tie with the shirt as well. He is not, and has never been, the snappiest dresser on the block. Every five minutes he checks his e-mail or blog while looking fearfully over his shoulder)

ME: Christ, I hate math.

(Sound of harps strumming. Jesus Christ appears in a well-tailored business suit).

Me: Woah. Jesus.

Jesus: Hello, my son. I sensed your suffering in the Great Beyond, and have come to help you in your time of direst need.

(Jesus hands Blogaaard an envelope dated with yesterday's date.)

Jesus: Here you go. Everything should be in order.

Me: Thank you, Jesus!

(Jesus breaks up into glowing particles, goes the fuck away)

Act III

(Boss storms in, looking very rich, Catholic, Republican, you name it.)

Boss: Well, did you figure out the journal yet? I need to go on my third vacation of this month already, so I can buy some land in North Dakota that I may or may not one day develop.

Me: Here you go. (Hands over enevelope). Everything should be in order.

Boss: Good. Now I can go and eat some pistachios in my car while listening to hateful talk radio.

Me: Don't thank me, thank Jesus!

(The End)