Just tryin' to live...

Hi readers!

I know, I know...tens of thousands of you are wondering where good ole' ZFJ is these days. What can I possibly be up to??? Well, I've been rather busy with livin', workin', typin' words that end with "in'" rather than "ing" and, I'm currently holed up in a hotel learning how to become a better, more efficient Angel of Death. :)

And as we know hotels are a hotbed for various social observations.

Today, right before lunch, we were notified that our lunch area had been moved to "the pit" rather than the normal, expansive dining area. Now understand, "the pit" is still awesome -the hotel is pretty awesome actually- but we still joked about us being relocated due to a group of power-executives who were requesting not to sit in there for their lunch. How could they be "lower" than others while dining??? Anyway, we break for lunch after a rigorous learning session about ant entomology/biology and we proceed to "the pit". Sure enough, standing around "the pit" conversing at high-levels, was the group of power-executives previously referenced by us. Now, many power-executives believe they are actually "better" than other humans -especially those not wearing power-suits while at lunch, and/or those who are talking about insect biology. We had chicken as an option with our lunch and I heard one of the elite power-executives jest to the tune of "what'dya got in there? Some chicken??...ha ha huh.." (readers, that joke is not on our level. It is understood by people who are upper-crust, superior and/or very wealthy. These type of people wipe their asses with freshly prepared chicken breasts while us common-folk actually eat the stuff. Hence why it was a "joke" to their kind. Still "Food" to us though....just clarifying).

I remarked rather audibly, "yeah, how'd you like a punch in the face?". They may have heard me because they moved a good distance away after that. Possibly to not get contaminated by us? Possibly to continue their clever quips about us sub-humans without potential for repercussions? We may never know...

After being released from our intense training, I headed to the hotel's gym (which is basically a weight room with two treadmills, one elliptical machine and one exercise bike). I had a t-shirt on which served to expose my "scary" tattoos and effectively establish me as a rouge. I enter the elevator where two of the power-executives, now in their civilian clothes and not within the protected confines of their uber-intelligent/nasty business cohorts, became "trapped" with me. I witnessed their distaste and uncertainty to being confined in the same elevator as myself. They did not make eye contact with me. They did however make eye contact --repeatedly-- at my tattoos, quickly looking away when they felt I may be noticing. They seemed scared as the cold realization washed over them that, they were trapped in that elevator with an obvious convict. Or derelict? Or even, a murderer??.....oh how they must have regretted their comment about the chicken at lunchtime!! ...Oh how they saw their lives flash before their eyes!!! ...Oh the terror as they realized that all their money, power executive-ness and business influence would not save them if I decided to attack. The attack, in their eyes, would be much like a rabid dog would attack...unprovoked, blood-lusty, wild, stupid and out of control. They must have feared they may never see their families, boats, bank statements, luxury cars, investment statements and mistresses again.

Guys, they're just tattoos. I'm a rather nice guy actually. No sweat....everything will be okay. Just then, the doors of the elevator opened and they rushed out of there like there was a pile of money on the hotel lobby's floor or something!! It must have seemed like the heavens themselves had opened for them when that elevator door opened! Their momentary fear and torment was over....But I'm sure they collected themselves quickly, and proceeded to make clever remarks that power-type-people would make about tattoos, and the "people" who have them ---far from earshot, of course.

Just don't make comments about our lunch again. Got it?


~ZFJ