Trapped in a Satire Article Factory: The Struggle to Fart and Talk to My Kids

2023-06-24

As I sit here, my eyes bleary and my fingers numb from typing away at articles whose headlines range from comical to nonsensical, I can't help but wonder - How did I end up here? Trapped in this satire factory, where everything from bodily functions to family communication is off-limits.

It all started with a simple job offer. A chance to write for a pop culture website that promised to make me laugh while I made money. I packed my bags, said goodbye to my family and set off on this adventure to New York City. Little did I know that I was about to enter a world where satire was king and the rules were draconian.

My first day was a blur of activity, surrounded by quirky coworkers with clever puns and flawless timing. I was assigned to the satire team, responsible for generating headlines and articles that would make readers giggle. At first, it was exciting, bouncing around ideas and watching them come to life. But soon, the shine wore off, and I realized the true price of this work.

The first thing I noticed was that nobody laughed. Not even a chuckle. There were no casual conversations about the absurdity of our stories, nor any lighthearted jabs at our colleagues. Everyone was perpetually focused, their brows furrowed and their mouths turned down at the corners. I soon discovered the reason for this - laughter was discouraged. It was seen as a distraction from the task at hand, a luxury we couldn't afford.

The second rule was even more bizarre - swearing and bodily functions were out of bounds. No fart jokes, no allusions to excrement, no discussions of anatomy. This meant that I couldn't even vent my frustrations in the company of my colleagues. I couldn't even say "I need to pee!". Instead, I had to discreetly slip out of the room and tiptoe down the hallway, hoping nobody would notice.

But the strangest rule by far, the one that made me doubt my sanity the most, was the ban on family communication. That's right, we were not allowed to discuss our family members, call them during the workday, take a break to Skype with our kids. I couldn't even send a quick text message to my spouse to check in. When I asked my editor why this rule was in place, they simply shrugged and said it was company policy.

So, here I am. Trapped in this satire article factory, my mind turning to mush from the constant pressure to come up with the wittiest headlines, my body straining from holding in my farts and my heart heavy from missing my family. And the worst part is - I can't even talk about it with anyone. Nobody will understand the absurdity of this situation.

But I refuse to give up hope. I will continue to write, to create, to find humor in the bleakness of this existence. And maybe, just maybe, one day I'll be able to break free from this place and reunite with my family, who I haven't seen in what feels like years.

Until then, I'll keep typing away, finding solace in the occasional image of my children that I've taped to my computer screen. I can only hope that they remember me when I finally get to see them again.