There ought to be a law against people who get so uptight that they come to work and shoot coworkers to death. Folks, this is simply not good etiquette. I guard against the possibility that Lardass or one of the Armenian yard sweepers will take out their frustrations on me. I walk around with a loaded pistol stuck in my belt so no one will even think about f*cking with me.
Lardass noticed. "Ya'll are gonna shoot yer dick off with that." I could tell he was less intimidated than I had planned.
"Naw, his dick ain't big enough to catch a slug. More likely it'll hit him in the foot!" shouted Daisy, the midget dump harlot. She was a true gem 36" tall and a flat head, so you can set your beer down and it won't spill. She has no teeth and a tongue like an anteater's.
Ok, so my co-workers aren't perfect. At least we didn't have any massacres today.
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Bring us your soggy crackers and crumpled paper yearning to be composted, your old cardboard and plastic bottles huddling in your garage. This is the dump; its not just our job, it is who we are: Dumpsterguys
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