By Monique Donahue

Perennially victimized Olive(r) had big dreams for the future, but life threw the unfortunate olive a curve ball when a health-conscious patron stumbled on the stairs, sending the olive careening off a fresh lunch salad onto the floor of a bleak office stairwell. Abandoned and alone, the olive began a diary to express misery over its lot in life and outrage over its new living conditions. On Day 12 of Olive(r)’s dismal, involuntary residence, a sympathetic bystander took it upon herself to begin transcribing the gender-ambiguous olive’s innermost thoughts as it withered into obscurity. Those faithfully recorded diary entries are presented here for comic posterity, in Olive(r)’s own tragic words.