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 wont 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 cant 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. My stigmatas acting up. I cant come in to work today because Ill be stalking my previous boss, who fired me for not showing up for work. OK? I have a rare case of 48-hour projectile leprosy, but
I know we have that deadline to meet… I am stuck in the blood pressure machine down at the Food Giant. Yes, I seem to have contracted some attention-deficit disorder and, hey, how about them Skins, huh? So, I wont be able to, yes, could I help you? No, no, Ill be sticking with Sprint, but thank you for calling. Constipation has made me a walking time bomb. I just found out that I was switched at birth. Legally, I shouldnt come to work knowing my employee records may now contain false information. The psychiatrist said it was an excellent session. He even gave me this jaw restraint so I wont bite things when I am startled. The dog ate my car keys. Were 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 cant come t