Hallelujah. Holy shit. Where's the Tylenol?
Dear Person I Work For:
I would like my Christmas bonus now, please. Just because being here everyday is your hobby doesn't make it mine, and I do indeed count on that measley pittance that doesn't near make up for my abysmal salary as part of what I have left after the government takes half. I can't stand thinking about money, and doubly so this time of year, so if you could please make with the check-writing I would be much appreciative. Please don't make me go Chevy Chase on your ass, because my sister has already promised to deliver you to the living room wrapped in rope and a red bow so I can personally tell you what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, in-bred, over-stuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-assed, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit you are if the cookies on my desk yesterday actually DO turn out to be my bonus. Granted, she'd had a couple martinis, but you can't blame her. The kid makes a killer martini. I digress. Checks. Write. Immediately. Friday isn't good enough. Kthxbye.
Warm Holiday Wishes,
Your Slave Labor
P.S. - How about a deal? You write the check, I stop spitting in your coffee. Sounds fair to me.
I would like my Christmas bonus now, please. Just because being here everyday is your hobby doesn't make it mine, and I do indeed count on that measley pittance that doesn't near make up for my abysmal salary as part of what I have left after the government takes half. I can't stand thinking about money, and doubly so this time of year, so if you could please make with the check-writing I would be much appreciative. Please don't make me go Chevy Chase on your ass, because my sister has already promised to deliver you to the living room wrapped in rope and a red bow so I can personally tell you what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, in-bred, over-stuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-assed, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit you are if the cookies on my desk yesterday actually DO turn out to be my bonus. Granted, she'd had a couple martinis, but you can't blame her. The kid makes a killer martini. I digress. Checks. Write. Immediately. Friday isn't good enough. Kthxbye.
Warm Holiday Wishes,
Your Slave Labor
P.S. - How about a deal? You write the check, I stop spitting in your coffee. Sounds fair to me.