Broke by Friday

Snoozes on the job like a busted desk lamp.
Broke by Friday, chips disappear—
Crunch, smack, munch—we can hear you from here!

Rips that bag open like it’s his last meal,
One-man chip band, making quite a deal.
Crumbs on his shirt, change in his hand,
“No money, life’s unfair”—same old band.
Yet snacks in his locker, snacks in his chair;
Payday came and went, but the chips are still there.

Boss says, “Get moving!” He says, “Give me a sec.”
Five minutes later, he’s asleep at his desk.
Paycheck vanished like a ghost in the night—
But that bag of chips? He’ll finish it tonight!

Clock out at five; hear the whole crew sigh—
Penguin in work boots, pockets bone-dry.