Purportedly from the Sunday, April 14, 1994 edition of the Washington Post. A contest was held in which readers were asked to come up with excuses to miss a day of work:
- If it is all the same to you, I won’t be coming in to work. The voices told me to clean all the guns today.
- When I got up this morning, I took two Ex-Lax in addition to my Prozac. I can’t get off the john, but I feel good about it.
- I set half the clocks in my house ahead an hour and the other half back an hour Saturday and spent 18 hours in some kind of space-time continuum loop, reliving Sunday (right up until the explosion). I was able to exit the loop only by reversing the polarity of the power source exactly e*log(pi) clocks in the house while simultaneously rapping my dog on the snout with a rolled up Times. Accordingly, I will be in late, or early.
- I can’t come in to work today because I’ll be stalking my previous boss, who fired me for not showing up for work. Okay?
- Yes, I seem to have contracted some attention-deficit disorder and, hey, how about them Skins, huh? So, I won’t be able to, yes, could I help you? No, no, I’ll be sticking with Sprint, but thank you for calling.
- The dog ate my car keys. We’re going to hitchhike to the vet.
I prefer to remain an enigma.
- My mother-in-law has come back as one of the Undead and we must track her to her coffin to drive a stake through her heart and give her eternal peace. One day should do it.
I am converting my calendar from Julian to Gregorian.
- I am extremely sensitive to a rise in the interest rates.
- I refuse to travel to my job in the District until there is a commuter tax. I insist on paying my fair share. I’m feeling a little disgruntled this morning. You think I should come in?