It Wasn’t My Place

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When the boss wore a clown suit to work and a rainbow afro

I didn’t complain.

It wasn’t my place.

 

When the boss’s clown suit and rainbow afro caught fire, while he was juggling a baby along with those torches and knives I didn’t complain.

It wasn’t my place.

 

When the boss in his burned clown suit and rainbow afro caused our stock to fall 99% in value one day when he misspoke and told the press we recycled nuclear waste into baby food I didn’t complain.

It wasn’t my place.

 

When the boss came over to my house unannounced

to see if I had taken any office supplies.

 

I knocked him unconscious with a bowling pin.

 

It was my place.

 

And I had a paperclip.

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