DAILY PROMPT: SIXTEEN TONS
How do you feel about your job? Do you spring out of bed, looking forward to work? Or, is your job a soul-destroying monotony of pure drudgery, or somewhere in between?
My job is to skip about chirping like a little birdie and spreading sweetness and light until I gag and fall in a heap.
Such is the joyous fulfilment I derive from this that I spring from my bed each morning bursting with anticipation, and before long, my glorious coloratura rendition of happy arias echoes from my shower stall to such effect that neighbours swarm from their houses to urge me on with roars and bellows, showers of rocks and the gentle tinkle of breaking glass. I am truly blessed.
Sadly my tap-dancing days are over, but judging by the reaction of townsfolk in the square on wet days, Singin’ in the Rain can still lift the spirits (and quicken the step) when accompanied by a gentle shuffle; when the weather is fine, Jesus wants me for a sunbeam can be guaranteed to send the most sluggish scurrying about their business with renewed vigour…
Sixteen tons of what?
And what does spring out of bed mean?