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One two PUNCH four.

One two PUNCH four.

That completed the first part of the routine for Joe. Next came the small dripping that would be with him all afternoon.

Tick Tock of the floor clock.

Joe thought about grabbing earplugs to block it all out, but not today. Nope, today he would not leave his station even for that sweet relief. Today was Meeting day, the day the cuts came since the locusts arrived.

One two PUNCH four.

One two PUNCH four.

Tick Tock.

Swarmed out of New York they did, full of money and promises. Now there was talk of closing down, jobs moved and pensions lost. Joe tried not to think about it, or the moving trucks outside.

Joe wondered if this is how cattle feel, when they finally realize they are at a slaughterhouse. Then Joe thought about the slaughterhouse that was replaced by his factory, and where those jobs and cows had gone. And where his would go if the Meeting meets The Prophecy currently on the workshop floor.

One two PUNCH four.

One two PUNCH four.

Tick Tock.

Joe wondered if these same locust ate the crops that killed the cow that killed the slaughterhouse that killed the jobs. It was during the time that Joe was speculating exactly where he fit into that chain that he noticed the line had stopped.

The ticking of the clock had brought about Meeting time.


The Meeting had been rather dull, just the usually line about tightening the belt and see you Monday.

Joe figured those were lies as he watched the convoy of trucks leaving the general location of the factory. Upon on his porch, he watched the locusts pick apart the last of his long labors.

Then he began to wonder if there ever was a slaughter house for the locust.  

Or at least some kind of pesticide to keep them in check.

At least that.


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