There’s a Wormhole under My Desk

I’m not a man of science. Nor am I a man of God.

For I am just a man.

A MAN WITH A FRIGGING WORMHOLE UNDERNEATH MY DESK.

Let me explain.

Every day, I come into work and sit down at my desk, like you do. I crank on my little pixar lamp that I have. I turn on my computer. I ponder my life and what exactly I’m doing with it.

Then, I drop something.

It’s something different every day. One morning it might be my favorite pen. Another, it might not happen until three or four in the afternoon. Sometimes, I drop an almond from my customary batch of trail mix I eat on the reg.

But I’ll be damned if each freaking time I drop something…I cannot find it anywhere.

I pull out my phone and turn on my bright, shining beacon of an LED and start poking around.

You know what I find?

Nothing.

Not a damn thing.

The only logical explanation is that a massive tear in space and time has opened up underneath my desk and is sucking in anything that I drop, only to spit it out in some other plane for some other lucky bastard to enjoy.

Why don’t I fall through? I can only assume that the wormhole is smaller than my chair.

It’s pretty simple, guys. Keep up.

I’ve lost pens. I’ve lost pencils. I’ve lost batteries, raisins…today I even lost a bean from my lunch.

Listen. It’s. Not. There.

I’ve looked everywhere. I got down on my knees and rubbed my hands across the carpet.

The only possible explanation is that a portal to another dimension has presented itself underneath my desk.

 

Oh wait.

I found the bean.

Never mind.

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