At some stage I hope to cover off more about both our work colleagues and employers but not yet.
The ol’ girl ain’t in any state to return to work but I’m a little bit different. Yeah we may both be bald cunts but I don’t have that cunt of a disease and there in lies the difference.
Awake time at chemo 
Rest time at chemo
So after a few months off work, I managed to find my uniform (appears to have shrunk around the guts area somewhat) and went back to work. At this stage only a couple days per week though.
Something in the universe was off centre though because it really was a cunt of a morning!
4:30am: Deep sleep interrupted by our internal fire alarm screaming hard out. Talk about freak out, man!
In that weird place between sleep and awake I jumped up out of bed almost as quick as that time our cunt of a cat pissed on my clothes.
With cock and balls and a big fat guts swinging and jiggling I ran around the house like a spastic trying to hold in a shit.
I didn’t need a shit though. Was trying to find a fucken fire, man.
The first wife had also jumped out of bed and if I looked like a spastic trying to hold in a shit, she was way worse. She’s blind as fuck and still had some of her hair then and looked very much like the love child of some fucked up orgy involving the Scarecrow in Wizard of Oz, Worzel Gumidge, Einstein and that Boris Johnson cunt.
I’m running around trying to smell smoke and look for flames while she’s just prancing around like a spastic and yelling shit.
Search downstairs for flames and smoke. Nothing…
Search upstairs for flames and smoke. Nothing…
Kodi was elsewhere but Dilan was home. Open his door and he’s still crashed out big time dreaming 16-year -old dreams.
Our fire alarms are all interconnected and are loud as fuck including the one in Dilan’s room going off. Obviously not loud enough to wake a teenager though.
For some reason out of the blue the alarm stops and I’m like ‘What the fuck, man!?’
Because we’re still half asleep I’m thinking if I go back to bed I can maybe sneak another hour sleep before getting ready for work.
Talk about being a dumb cunt alright.
Yeah I’m continually sniffing for smoke but my brain’s trying to relax and three minutes later just as my first wife calms enough to stop talking, well it all starts up again.
Repeat as above but this time I’m also looking in wardrobes and cupboards and even went outside naked as fuck, grabbed a ladder and climbed up into the ceiling for a gander.
And again it stops, then starts, then stops, then starts…
I spent the next hour pressing the reset button on the fire alarms trying to work out which one was causing it.
Keep freaking out thinking fire engines are gunna pull up outside our house with lights and sirens.
Those cunts looove their sirens but silly me I forgot they were firies and not cops so would be sleeping their nightshift away at that time.
Remove the battery from what I think was the main alarm going off and by this stage it’s time to start getting ready for work, fuck it.
I’m massively on edge trying to make me and the cook a coffee and expecting another screaming alarm at any moment.
Because I hadn’t been to work for fucking ages I had to find uniform apparel like epaulettes, work socks and belt and throw ’em all on our bed
The first wife sipped enough coffee to decide it was weak and complain about it.
Oh, I forgot to mention we’d changed the sheets the night before too.
So about this stage the coffee complaining first wife decided to spill her entire cup of weak coffee all over our bed.
That screaming fire alarm had nothing on an angry first wife who found a number of most inappropriate words for a supposed lady to use, yelled at me blaming it on me because I made her weak coffee and put hundreds of belts on the bed.
Cancer may have taken most of her bowel but it ain’t taken her vocal chords, I tell ya.
When I left work for the cook and her cunty cancer I was acting sergeant but returning as a senior conny. Acting sergeant epaulettes are everywhere but senior conny epaulettes are as hard to find as strong coffee nowadays.
Head upstairs to escape my coffee cleaning wife, put on my socks and repair my hearing.
I got a million pairs of socks in the drawers and only one of those pairs has a hole in ’em. I don’t need to tell you which pair I’d grabbed.
Kiss the first wife and go to work.
Good times man, good times.
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