Calling in Sick

Called my boss with a gravelly tone,

Coughed twice, said “I better stay home.”

He said, “Take care,” and I said, “Sure thing,”

Then loaded up Warzone like a warlord king.

Got snacks, sweatpants, headset tight —

Told the crew, “Boys, we droppin’ tonight.”

It’s a sick day… but I ain’t sick,

Just duckin’ real life for digital hits.

No emails, no ties, no breakroom small talk,

Just a killstreak dream and a Red Bull stock.

Might lose my job, but I’ll win this round —

Sick day, baby, layin’ bodies down.

My girl said, “Aren’t you supposed to be workin’?”

I said, “I’m grindin’ levels — that’s kinda like earnin’.”

The group chat’s poppin’, the coffee’s flowin’,

I’m MVP with my router glowin’.

I should feel guilty, but I just can’t —

This controller feels like a sabbatical grant.

It’s a sick day… but I ain’t sick,

I’m just tired of spreadsheets and corporate tricks.

No Zoom calls, no fake laughs to fake,

Just a 12-kill run and a microwave steak.

Might get fired, but my aim is sound —

Sick day, baby, and I’m holdin’ ground.

I got symptoms, alright:

Controller hand cramp.

Snack fatigue.

Severe allergic reaction to “circling back.”

It’s a sick day… but I ain’t sick,

Just tradin’ in stress for a joystick fix.

When the world feels loud, I log in low,

And let the WiFi take control.

Boss can keep that company crown —

Sick day, baby…

And I’m takin’ it down.

Respawn in five…

cough cough

“Yeah, I might need tomorrow too.”