No, you’ll survive

As usual.

You’re a survivor. You walked through the valleys of Ennui and lived to see the mountains of boredom rise before your horrified gaze.

There shall be no demon in Hell, from the guy trying to enjoy Vivaldi despite the permanent din of the customers, to the poor sap tasked with cleaning the dust of ages and soot of eternal fire, more resilient than you.

As numbers and sentences pile up higher than Mount Olympus, your own desolate Martian landscape of red binders and yellowed out desk cannot win. Tonight, you’re getting laid.

You can’t help but feel even more wetness accumulate down there. That guy at lunch would do fine, or maybe the customer who dropped by last week (so hunky, so very edible… never mind the annoying girlfriend in tow…)