- May 18, 2001
- 7,860
- 353
- 126
Oh work cup, what transgression have I committed to have you so rudely and abruptly taken from me at such a young tender age? Could I have washed you more, or perhaps even just once? Should I have enjoyed my daily office beverages at a slightly different temperature, one that would not have caused your polished plastic to become so brittle while you were still naught but a babe? I will forever ponder if the corrosive chemicals in the sparkling gallons of water which you lovingly offered to me might somehow have been slowly corrupting your very essence. I blame myself, and the grief will be a heavy burden to bear.
From humble beginnings you began your life of dutiful service. At your very beginning, you were just a plastic Olive Garden to-go cup, but lo, destiny moved you into a higher calling. As I nestled you under my arm and gently laid you on my office desk for the first time, I gazed into your beckoning emptyness and heard you cry "Fill me! Lift me! Drink from me! I'll never fail you! And never a single drop will I leak!" Such good intentions and promises you made; promises and intentions that you fulfilled to the utmost of your cheap plastic being. And though I walked down the hall past the boss's office, you were with me. Your smooth polished exterior and the tasty beverage inside, they comforted me. Surely I wanted to spend the rest of my days with you forever and ever, for all the days of my life.
And yet ambitions of that sort, no matter how heart-felt, cannot be kept forever. For Death, the destroyer of every good and perfect thing, is doomed to visit each and every one of us. He first brushed you with a gentle kiss that day I sipped from you, and a small piece of your lip unceremoniously broke off. I didn't think much of it, but it was merely the beginning of a long, tedious decline from which you never recovered. Soon, your Olive Garden decal was barely readable. Then the day came when yet another piece broke off. And finally, yesterday, the day of your demise, came upon you like a thief in the night. I raised you like every other day, gave you a gentle squeeze, and you developed a fracture all the way down your side. Being true to the very end, you somehow didn't allow a single drop to escape. But the damage was done and irreversible.
So you have been replaced, and I have offered you up to God by placing you in your final resting place, the wastebasket. You truly deserve your wings, and I can only imagine that you are in a better, less officey place, running wild and free with all the other loyal office cups that have earned their eternal rest.
You are gone, but not forgotten. I shed a tear for thee. May you rest in peace.
From humble beginnings you began your life of dutiful service. At your very beginning, you were just a plastic Olive Garden to-go cup, but lo, destiny moved you into a higher calling. As I nestled you under my arm and gently laid you on my office desk for the first time, I gazed into your beckoning emptyness and heard you cry "Fill me! Lift me! Drink from me! I'll never fail you! And never a single drop will I leak!" Such good intentions and promises you made; promises and intentions that you fulfilled to the utmost of your cheap plastic being. And though I walked down the hall past the boss's office, you were with me. Your smooth polished exterior and the tasty beverage inside, they comforted me. Surely I wanted to spend the rest of my days with you forever and ever, for all the days of my life.
And yet ambitions of that sort, no matter how heart-felt, cannot be kept forever. For Death, the destroyer of every good and perfect thing, is doomed to visit each and every one of us. He first brushed you with a gentle kiss that day I sipped from you, and a small piece of your lip unceremoniously broke off. I didn't think much of it, but it was merely the beginning of a long, tedious decline from which you never recovered. Soon, your Olive Garden decal was barely readable. Then the day came when yet another piece broke off. And finally, yesterday, the day of your demise, came upon you like a thief in the night. I raised you like every other day, gave you a gentle squeeze, and you developed a fracture all the way down your side. Being true to the very end, you somehow didn't allow a single drop to escape. But the damage was done and irreversible.
So you have been replaced, and I have offered you up to God by placing you in your final resting place, the wastebasket. You truly deserve your wings, and I can only imagine that you are in a better, less officey place, running wild and free with all the other loyal office cups that have earned their eternal rest.
You are gone, but not forgotten. I shed a tear for thee. May you rest in peace.
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