Comstock Inc.

Occasionally during company breakfast meetings, wild zebras will appear on the wall. Sometimes they are on the ceiling too. And sometimes the bowls of cream of wheat catch on fire and we have to spray them out with our sprayers. Sometimes there's a death. The cause is uncertain. Debris from the ceiling crashing on our heads or big thunder banging someone in the eyeball. At any rate and despite all odds, we finish our breakfast. Our insurance rates are sure to go up soon.

We've spent a lot of time at home this summer making prototypes of potentially multi-million dollar products. We've made tow-truck trains, squirter-cars, anti-tornado-police-stations, snake homes, automobile control panels, orange soups, and screw tacos. Unfortunately nothing seems to make it to production because a cracker-dial or wrecking ball or stomper or big claw smashes everything all to pieces. It's rather unlucky.

When destruction is evidently the song of the day and the furniture starts to take a beating,

we succumb to destruction's calling through team building activities such as making human sandwiches with pillows or hammering tiny animals out of ice or throwing all the laundry on the living room floor and burying each other.

If staff relations begin to implode, we invite friends over or exercise our nervous energy in regularly scheduled gymnastics. This years abilities have expanded to eagle rolls and mini-cartwheels.

Occasionally the office has to close due to road work or tree trimmers. But rather than impede all progress, this kind of mandatory maintenance feeds the creativity for tomorrows prototypes.

In fact most daily production is mimicry. Our youngest caretaker of the grounds has hired an intern of proper proportion to practice all her newly surfacing maternal tendencies, which include feeding, putting to bed, changing diapers, wrapping up, and singing lullabies.