"Oh my head!"
This was Sander's daily "good-morning" to the world that sounded every day at seven o'clock without fail, directly after the blaring sound of the alarm clock, and previous to the groan of the bed and its occupant.
"I gotta cut down on booze before bed."
This, or a variation of this, also occurred daily but was never acted upon. Beer, wine or even some martinis entered Sander's stomach non-stop from seven to nine and left promptly at midnight.
"God damn you Angles!"
This was his workday slogan, replaced on Sunday by "God dam you Jesus." His opinion was that Angles with his saying that "Labor made humans out of monkeys" he had made a monkey out of him.
Morning wasn't the only time Sanders talked to himself; in fact he talked to himself all day and even when he was asleep. They say that talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity, but it can't be altogether certain that everybody on earth isn't insane.
" Oh say can you seeeee, by the dawn's early light! "
Sanders knew exactly where the keys where, but put on a scene looking for them every morning, anything to arrive a little late for work. When he finally decided to find them his hand refused to touch them. That was the first out of the ordinary thing that happened that day.
"The hell? What is this one of them's nerve ending deficiencies, I'll have to go to that idiot doctor again. Please remove your clothes!!! Boy did he turn red when I told him I wasn't gay."
Sanders often made up diseases and complained about them for months, things like mad bird disease, or SATs. They where usually due to his loss of hearing that he refused to acknowledge. He made another grab at his car keys and his hand veered off in another direction entirely.
"Well that settles it. I'm not going to work."
Some people say that three is the golden number. It's the number of times a joke can be repeated until it stops being funny, it's the number of times it takes to get something right, and it's the number of days that it took to create earth divided by two. Yet according to Sander the golden number is two and more often then not the number one turns out to be good enough for him.
Sander undid his tie and in the end only succeeded in tightening it, he didn't know why, but he shrugged it away and lay down to watch some TV, which he despised.
"Time for some more of that idiotic babbling. I live for the day they show something worth watching on television."
Sanders picked up the remote and pushed in a channel number. The TV beeped and the TV guide channel appeared.
"What! I want Fox dammit, not this diarrhea!"