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**CURRENT PRINT: THE PEOPLE!: "All viz" are the watchwords for our 26th broadsheet, featuring a print by Birmingham's Charles Buchanan, comics by longtime Antipurpose Driven Lifer Andrew Davis. It's all tied together by the Sandburg-inspired illustrations by our resident, Rob Funderburk.
**WEB: CALLING IN SICK TO DIE Josh Honn
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CALLING IN SICK TO DIE
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Josh Honn
Honn is a graphic designer and a short story writer who lives and works in Chicago. You can find his complete published work at his website.
Yesterday I called in sick to die. I was in my late 70s and retirement was not an option. That's the kind of world you people who are still alive live in. At least the kind of world you people who are still alive and were like me live in. You know, the working-class type. I worked at this factory. It doesn't really matter what I made. It was all useless junk. Most of my former coworkers who may or may not know that I am dead right now were in their late 20s to early 40s. For some reason the company kept me around. I knew how to do everything and every job on the floor. I also hadn't asked for a raise in something like twenty years and even though I took a lot of sick days due to my age, management still never fired me. Which is ironic, I suppose, because I was out of sick days this year and when I called in yesterday they said I had to come in or I was fired. I told them, well, fire me, because I am dying. They probably thought I was exaggerating like most people do when they get sick but, nope, I actually died.
When I started writing this story I was hoping it would land in the complaint bin at work or in the hands of my union organizer. I don't know why. I'm fucking dead so what can they do for me? I guess I still have some unfinished business left down there in my mind. Right now I have no idea who is reading this. And if you are reading this you probably don't believe a goddamn thing I am saying. Like I said, I am fucking dead. But it's only my first day being dead and I am not sure how things work around here. I'm not even sure where I am right now. I did just take the lord's name in vain and nothing happened so I'm not sure if I am in heaven or hell. Really, this place doesn't look like much of anything really. In fact, it looks a lot like my old apartment only there is nothing in here; nothing but a table and a chair and a pencil and some paper. Lucky me. Unless I am supposed to be using this pencil and paper to plead my case to get into heaven, in which case I guess I am shit out of luck.
Anyway, I worked hard my whole goddamn life. (I thought I would test that again. Nothing happened.) And because of the way things are today where a workingman can't retire until his time is up I was fired. So this is my grievance. My complaint. My last "fuck you" to the system that I poured my entire life into. I never went to college. I never got married. I did drink a lot and watched a lot of shitty TV but I never hurt anybody. I'm sure I did a good deal of lying, called a lot of women a lot of inappropriate names, and I am sure I broke many traffic laws but aside from that I can't think of anything I really ever did that was so horrible that I had to spend my last day on earth getting fired over the phone because I had to call in sick to die. I mean, I worked at that plant for over forty years and just because I took one extra sick day they fired me?
I can't really tell what I died of which is another thing that is bothering me. I remember my heart hurt really bad which is why I called in sick. It felt like it was going to explode. Must have died of a heart attack. If you are reading this and you just happen to read the obituaries today in the local Hammond, Indiana, paper would you look up Charles Bonder? I figure someone should know since I didn't have any immediate friends or family. This whole situation really smarts and I am running out of paper. They only gave me two pages. Whoever "they" are. Seems like the "they" down there are the same "they" up here. They are keeping me around until I run out of something. Down there it was life and up here it is going to be paper. I'm writing in the margins now and I don't even know who, if anyone, will read this. If there is a god and he is reading this then, you know, do what you can do to get me in with your team. Sorry about those things I said about you and, you know, never going to church and all. And if anyone is alive and reading this and you don't plan on dying soon could you please feed my dog? The address is--
021908