By Duane From Forest Park
Do you hate bosses as much as I do?
Get this. Few nights ago, I’m stocking shelves at the porno video store on 75 south where I been workin for a few months now — dildo manager kept promising me he’d make me assistant night manager (lots of dudes rent their pornos at night) but it ain’t happened — and listening to the game on my headphones. So I can’t hear much. Turns out dildo was talking to me from the end of the aisle, which is like 50 damn yards long, but I ignored him on account of I’m listening to Jim and Don. About that time Tommy La Dropped the goddam ball dropped the goddam ball and our chance to beat King Feelmeup was gone with the stank wind.
So then my boss, Raeza — “I was chemical engineer in my country, blah, blah shit I can’t understand” — comes at me bitching about how, “The Duane, you putting Big Butt Bonanza series in special all star cocksman section!” I was right at that moment enraged by our second sacker sucking so I ripped off my headphones and told Raeza, I said, “Damn, you a smart chemistry engineer so you’ll understand — how the hell can I concentrate on big butts and cocksman skin flicks when the Bravos are about to lose seven straight?!? Raeza likes soccer, of course — which he didn’t like it much when I told him I’d as soon be water boarded as watch the World Cup — but, anyway, one thing led to another and he sent me home.
I told Raeza time and again — I often seem to stray from his hard-ass rules, see — that my buddy’s cousin owns the truck stop/adult fantasy emporium and he can’t fire me if he wants to. But I walked out chanting “USA, USA” at him. Pretty funny, huh? Speaking of, I had to explain to him — a damn scientist or so he says — that Doggie was talking about lighting a fart. Anyhow, I’m in kind of limbo right now. My buddy I mentioned, Wesley, whose cousin owns the shitty outfit ain’t returned my calls.
But don’t y’all worry about ole Duane. It’ll work out. Always does, cuz! Hell, I’m going over to Hal and Brenda’s tonight to watch the game. (Don’t tell Brenda. I gotta sneak in and out of Hal’s man cave while she’s out playing boggle. And don’t tell Hal, but I still beat off thinking about Brenda.)
Moving on, BK Upton needs to be mopping floors at the jack shack out back of the video store. Fuck him and his $15 million a year and his fucking maserati and his Maserati radio commercial. I wouldn’t take a free blow job from Kate Upton if that shit stain BJ Upton was advertising it. Well, maybe. But you get the idea.
And Freddie Freeloader damn well better get his bat out of his ass. And the White Bear needs to learn how to stop a GD ball in the dirt And good riddance, Danny Uggs and Tatoo Boy Schafer. This shit’s all going south so fast I don’t know what the fuck to do. Maybe Ted Turner’ll come down and manage.
And I believe Raeza could make a better GM than Stank Wren. Nice idea to have not one but both of the worst players this side of Chris Crapward as your highest paid on the roster! Brilliant, fuckstick! And somebody I know said Stank’s wife was rude to them at a ball game, so there’s that.
And welcome to town, Bryce Hyped. Now go ride a fucking cactus, you overhyped, entitled, ridiculous-hairdo-wearing loudmouth. Maybe you can do Ted Cruz for president commercials next.
Later, homes. Keep the faith. Go Braves!