Dear Alfina,
We’re sorry we had to do this to you, but we tried to warn you, you know. It’s really your own fault. What were you thinking, lugging thirty-some heavy books down from your fifth-floor office, over to the library circulation desk, and back up to your fifth-floor office yesterday? Huh? All that reaching and awkward gripping and trying not to accidentally fling Cleanth Brooks across the lawn? It was a bad idea. Now we have had to cause you pain.
You think we like this, but we promise, this hurts us more than it hurts you. You get to lie around, reading, while we have to work hard all day, repeatedly spasming and sending surprising lightning bolts of unhappiness all over you. And seriously, quit complaining that you have to miss your fancy department party where they serve lobster stuffed with tacos and tiny glasses of wine. We knew you wanted an excuse to stay home and watch the game anyway.
You’re welcome, you lazy asshat.
Your Back Muscles
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