I'm sitting here and trying to pass the time by writing before getting up from this desk and pretending to be interested in their lives and barely escaping before the hens trap me in the lunchroom and blather at me continually about their incredibly dull lives in this incredibly dull place. Shame on them for not doing any thing substantial with their lives but to sallow in mediocrity and fatten themselves on the staleness of American suburbia. Just one stupid lamb after another blathering and yelping and falling across one another just before tumbling over the cliffs and onto the sharp rocks far below. They continue bleating endlessly in their warm sun until the final drops of blood fall like gobs of sap and the entrails dry and harden into strips of jerky. Gulls swoop down to pluck out the remains of the half dried eyes which plop open on their faces like scattered egg yolks and then run across their gaping mouths pulling along translucent cheese like strings. Rotten stinking lambs fouling the bright white rocks. Shame on the whole stinking flock. Shame on them for stinking and bleeding.