Because I have nothing more pertinent, relevant, or sensible to contribute.
6am: Woken by hootroars, since owlbears are for no particularly logical reason diurnal. (SHUT UP YES THEY ARE.)
7am: After hurling chunks of raw bloody meat to one’s personal owlbear master, typically located in a foul-smelling pit in the backyard, eat breakfast of carefully nutritionally balanced grey stuff that tastes like cardboard marinated in bleach.
8am: One hour drive to Miserable Work Pit complex. Because owlbears are somewhat literal-minded, you are punished with electrical shocks if you do not take exactly one hour.
9am-12 noon: Pointless labour in Miserable Work Pit complex. Pits are assigned at random, meaning that if you had any pointless labour left uncompleted the previous day, someone else will have to do it. Work is often interrupted when one of the owlbears present is hungry.
12 noon-12:30pm: Feeding time. Yet more raw bloody meat.
12:30pm-1:00pm: Lunch break. Food is neither nutritious nor delicious. In fact, nutritionally speaking, you would in fact be better off skipping lunch.
1:00pm-5:00pm: Paperwork. Pieces of paper are sorted according to which owlbear would most like to nest in them. Accuracy not a major factor.
5:00pm: Drive home, subject to same requirements as drive to work. Some people who live close to a Miserable Work Pit complex have developed quite intricate pieces of equipment so they can jump out of the car as it goes past their house and it will drive around the block by itself for another twenty minutes before pulling into the garage. Or more often the neighbour’s flower beds.
6:00pm: Another day, another few hundred chunks of raw meat. Where the heck is it all coming from?
7:00pm: Everyone simultaneously claims to be not hungry because starvation is better than the nutritional bars served at dinner.
8:00pm: Existential crisis.
9:00pm: Go to bed.
3:00am: Wake up and scream.
Remember: be on your guard. IT COULD HAPPEN.
– OSM out