I’m sitting here watching Sponge Bob dance.
Bob’s a balloon, hovering above the office keeping a vigilant watch on the place. He’s sort of corporate, he’s wearing a tie; so no one questions his attendance.
He’s a happy little sponge, nothing seems to get him down, but I’m sure in time, like everyone else who has joined the rat race, that too will end soon enough.
Sad really, I’m getting used to SB, as he now likes to be referred as, he most likely won’t be here much longer. His arms have gone limp, his legs flat and he’s looking a bit thin in the waist. Still he’s dancing and smiling, a trooper to the end.
I wonder if we’ll talk of him when he’s gone. Others have left this place and no one seems to mention them much, people who have been here for years. It’s funny, no matter how irreplaceable you think you are, soon after you’re gone, you’re forgotten. It’s business as usual. That’s the cycle of life, always has been, always will be.
People are born, people die, even balloons come and go. To be honest, I haven’t put much into my relationship with SB, in fact I’ve never even really said hi to him. I just see him around, like so many others hanging about the place.
Sure I know his face, he may even know mine. But we never talk; I mean what would we talk about? We have so little in common. He’s a poriferan and I’m a human, probably not much middle ground. I should at the very least give him the number to good dentist, that would be nice of me. Maybe a conversation could start up there, well it might if he could talk. Then again, it could be insulting to approach him and start off with “Good morning SB, would you be needing a dentist?”
But talking to a helium filled Mylar balloon really isn’t the point, is it?
That’s just nuts.
