Six-thirty Deadline

Boss man says its two days. Two days is two years, I have forever, an eternity to deliver quality. Two days is paradise, so close to three days, yet so far from two hours.

 

Are we drinking tonight? I can hardly decide but two or six whisky shots never hurt nobody. A good time equips the mind with the agility and aptitude.

 

No longer two days, now it is just but a single day. But my head, my head feels like a pounding sledgehammer. Last night, did someone add vodka to my beer?

 

Just let me sleep in today, just four hours. An active mind needs repose to rekindle and rejuvenate. I did not say this, Science man said, on nutrition channel.

 

Four hours is relative to eight hours. Furthermore, it is game time. Soccer. It’s Manchester United, everybody is watching. I’d be a buffoon to miss this game. So, four beers and roast meat as we watch the game, Yes?

 

Two hours to six-thirty. I need coffee, I need cold water, I need silence and I need a miracle. Time to get to work.

 

Six-thirty deadline, more like Six-thirty deathtime.

 

 

Photography: Mukiri Gitiri

Words: Dennis Peters

[MukirivityIngenious art and text made comparative]

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