Thursday of the walking dead

As I shuffled into my job this breaking of dawn I was greeted with large meaty machines projectile vomiting their anger and frustration over this pandemic ruining my new suit by throwing feces at me in rage and shouting while smashing our office property and pointing their feces covered fingers in my face as if I am the soul manager of the pandemic and it's ever shifting arbitrary rules, I am not the manager you wish to focus your rage at to give you your time and jobs back, as the day rolled forward I felt what remaining energy drain from my shell, leaving me a drooling zoning undead zomot, the ramen I ate for lunch did not spark any further life in me as I dragged on slurping and crying into my bowel of microwaved noodles. 

Back at the office mines, the hordes of living spite still continued to pill in one after another lastly in my final hours I was able to distract the final meat people and ducked below activating my only cloaking device by hiding under my desk, eventually the deafening moaning stopped and I quickly rushed out leaving a trail of exhaust as I left.

C.Machine