Part II
This is a dead end job.
I suppose I should be grateful that I'm getting a pay cheque as it is. Apparently the arm to my left is here on a volunteer basis, just to get out of the house, and isn't receiving any benefits.
At least I was able to put down the candelabra after a while. The gold paint is a little harder to get rid of though. I'm trying to think of it as a tan, that golden hue that humanity will strive for in a hundred years or so. Until then I'll just bide my time being ahead of my time, a social revolutionary. That sounds important right?
Things have been quiet around here lately. According to the barrel monkey, the guy with the mask and the chick with the eye problems had a bit of a disagreement. So no more midnight hallucinations with organ music and severed body parts with a tan, waving flammable objects in circles without any occupational health and safety supervision.
Oh well.
What was I expecting anyway? Mother always said that I had no future in the arts. It is of course very hard to remember mother when I'm just an arm, but I get the distinct feeling that I didn't like her very much.
I can hear something! Well, I can't hear anything but you get the general idea. Music, growling, soprano, more growling. Yay, someone's coming.
How rude! Erik and Christine (the monkey disclosed names) walked straight past and didn't acknowledge any of us. Okay, so it may have been more of a case of him dragging her along the corridors but they could have stopped and said hi. It's common decency after all.
Silence.
Hey, who's the guy with the ponytail, and why is he touching me like that?
