. . . OH RUDY . . .
. . . you’re always gettin’ into some shit.
And where oh where will you get the money to pay all that you owe?
Good thing you got all those rich friends.
Huh?
What’s that you say?
Your rich friends are giving you nothing but cold shoulders?
Oh, Rudy, Rudy, Rudy.
I’m feelin’ so sad for you.
Like watch ninety-six tears pour out of each of my two eyes just for you, Rudy Dear!
How’s that?
You still need some fuckin’ Cash American?
Oh, I see.
My moral support isn’t enough.
What’s next, eh?
You’re gonna tell me to un-cry those tears I just cried for you?
Oh, well, I get it.
You need money.
Well, let me see . . . I do need someone to clean my bathroom. It is completely covered in shit. Floor. Walls. Mirror. Sink. Ceiling. Bathtub. I’m all about enthusiasm. I get enthusiastic about things. Even my bathroom habits. Why approach things with dread when you can hit them with enthusiasm, y’know? That’s my approach.
Now the toilet is pristine. Virgin even. You could eat off it, if you wanted to . . .
. . . or did I . . . erm . . .
Oh, wait, I forgot I clogged that sucker last night with a truly buxom bowel movement.
My bad, Big Dawg!
So, yeah, the toilet has to be unclogged, and scrubbed into dinner serviceable status-yep, yep, yep!
So, uh, let’s talk wages.
Produces six crisp one dollar bills in his hot hairy hands.
Whoa! Baybee! Look at that cash, my son-wow! That’s what we call sin-on-paper where I’m from. This kinda money could get you into some adventure on that Taco Bell menu, Rudy, so play responsibly.
But that’s fun stuff.
First, we gotta handle administrative matters, you dig?
Hot hairy hand fingers a crisp one as it places it into a back pocket.
See, Rudy, I gotta charge you a dollar labor counselor’s fee. Because of all this great labor counseling I’m providing for you.
Hot hairy hand places two dollars into a back pocket.
Another two dollars goes to cover the Non-refundable Fee. Don’t look so butthurt, Rudy, everybody pays the Non-refundable Fee. I’m not just picking on you, Big Dawg.
Hot hairy hand places a dollar bill into a back pocket.
That dollar covers supplies. Which is cheap, right? And it’s cheap because the only supplies you need are spiritual in nature. Basically, you say a prayer that you won’t catch a disease from licking this bathroom clean, Big Dawg, HAW! HAW! HAW!
Hairy hand closes into a fist crumpling up the last two bills. Hairy hand opens-but the bills are magically gone!
Whoa. Dude. Feature that magic, Rudy. Or, y’know, is it inflation? Who knows, but everybody’s feeling it, babe.
Hairy hand on the bathroom doorknob.
Well, time to put your ass to work.
Hairy hand turns the door knob. Door opens to reveal impenetrable darkness.
Oooo, Ruuuuuudy, what filthy mysteries hide in the dark?! Ooooooooooo! Is your ass ready to be haunted? Oooooo!
Hairy hand flips a light switch . . . revealing . . .
My, my, my Rudy. Would you just look at that?
. . . a pristine bathroom. Like it has never been used.
I totally forgot. I clean up my own mess pretty good these days, Rudy. Perhaps there’s a lesson in this for you, Big Dawg.
Hairy hands hold up a bundle of job applications for entry level fast food, retail, and landscaping jobs.
Get on that employment tip, my son, ‘cause your bills are only increasing.
Rudy’s goblin hands reach up for the job applications, but the hairy hands keep pulling the applications up, up, and away and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with some beautiful balloon, not even a little bit.
You gotta want it, Rudy, you gotta want it hard, my son!
Rudy’s goblin hands grasp ever upwards, but those hairy hands keep pulling up and up into the sky ever out of reach. Soon it’s just goblin hands grasping at air.
Heaven is for those who want it hard enough, Rudy Dear . . .
Shadows and night and grasping goblin hands and no more Cash American and no more job applications and no more enthusiasm for all is dread and dread and dread again . . .
