The Sky is Taking on Light
His daily quota hit, his bob cat eyes puffed up into slits of feral fuzz, Giacomo Jones tears himself out of the unfinished algorithm flashing and flashing across his four computer screens like some kind of purgatorial fire. He coughs and chugs the rest of his really cold Guatemalan coffee, his superhairy fingers throbbing, screaming, throbbing all over his comic strip-cluttered desk. He growls, he groans, he bounces on his baby blue exercise ball. Because after two or three weeks of binge coding he like definitely can’t feel his legs, his feet, or his bloated brain. Because he like definitely needs—definitely deserves!—a five-minute breather after two or three weeks of not sleeping, not masturbating, not eating or living or nothing nothing as nice as all that!
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