This afternoon I tried signing onto my Xbox but it wouldn't let me.
I called up customer support and they asked the usual questions.
Then they put me on hold for thirty minutes or so;
and in those thirty minutes I decided I'd make a grilled cheese sandwich.
When the customer service rep got back on,
he said the account would immediately be deactivated
and they they couldn't refund me for all the purchases I made;
then told me I was better off with a Nintendo WiiU and hung up.
I looked at my phone in disgust. Surely this was some sick joke.
But anger, much like a clean, pretty face,
got the best of me.
I chucked my phone at the wall;
then rushed out the house and found the closest thing I could see.
An old lawn chair from my jam band festival days.
I threw it, with all my might, into the street;
screaming "I don't want a ******* WiiU!" over
and over, till my voice gave
and puttered like a Ford Pinto on it's last leg.
That's when I noticed the windows were tinted black;
and soon after smoke started to billow out the windows.
Oh no, I thought, *the ******* grilled cheese sandwich!*
I ran in, coughing, my blue shirt clinging to my nose and chin;
the alarm screaming "I have seen the face of God!".
I managed to make it to the ***** grabbed
all the plastic water bottles I could find and
gave the stove counter top hell.
After the smoke cleared, I removed the pan,
threw away the sandwich
and slumped like a limp sack of grains
on the stool by the kitchen window.
And for the rest of that day I mourned over my deceased sandwich;
Oh, how well it would've paired with a bowl of Campbell's tomato soup.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 3:05 AM UTC
This afternoon I tried signing onto my Xbox but it wouldn't let me.
I called up customer support and they asked the usual questions.
Then they put me on hold for thirty minutes or so;
and in those thirty minutes I decided I'd make a grilled cheese sandwich.
When the customer service rep got back on,
he said the account would immediately be deactivated
and they they couldn't refund me for all the purchases I made;
then told me I was better off with a Nintendo WiiU and hung up.
I looked at my phone in disgust. Surely this was some sick joke.
But anger, much like a clean, pretty face,
got the best of me.
I chucked my phone at the wall;
then rushed out the house and found the closest thing I could see.
An old lawn chair from my jam band festival days.
I threw it, with all my might, into the street;
screaming "I don't want a ******* WiiU!" over
and over, till my voice gave
and puttered like a Ford Pinto on it's last leg.
That's when I noticed the windows were tinted black;
and soon after smoke started to billow out the windows.
Oh no, I thought, *the ******* grilled cheese sandwich!*
I ran in, coughing, my blue shirt clinging to my nose and chin;
the alarm screaming "I have seen the face of God!".
I managed to make it to the ***** grabbed
all the plastic water bottles I could find and
gave the stove counter top hell.
After the smoke cleared, I removed the pan,
threw away the sandwich
and slumped like a limp sack of grains
on the stool by the kitchen window.
And for the rest of that day I mourned over my deceased sandwich;
Oh, how well it would've paired with a bowl of Campbell's tomato soup.
