Ever come across man children in your day to day life? I'm not talking vunts who sit around playing video games, and fapping to Miss Grinch mind you. No, what I want to broach on this dewy morn are these friends of the friendless types who are caught in a neverending reverie. One of my colleagues of the menial is a forty two year old action figure enthusiast who has his underoos pressed for him. Over the past moons that have been cast crescent to full, he's been boasting about his new bachelor's nook off the Sunset Strip. With overwhelming jubilation we proverbially patted his haunches, as he was about to undertake this rite of passage into adulthood. No longer would we have to suffer through his braggadocio of being "home alone" while his parents took a two week sabbatical to the mother land. Hours upon hours of vetting for the highest quality sundry fixture to impress the ladies would eventually culminate towards a man cave for the ages. Much boastful chat spread through these hallowed halls of our employ, as he lured men in with talks of big screen tvs, liquor, and foosball. Apparently many an adult sleep over was had in mind. Come today, Peter Panda has no zoo but Momma's to call his dorm. Turns out the paint job to the stairs wasnt to his liking. While he sits sloth and slovenly in his own skin, perusing the web for designer watches, the boastful exclamations, and the entreaties for a night of smores under a grey sky, (the firmament being his nape), now goes untold. Much like the myriad of business endeavors he once planned on opening up and pursuing. All lost to the phantom zone.
