McJob Interview

"Another round, on the house!!!", I blurted loudly in the direction of the robust bartender. The first seven whiskey sours had gone down like water and I was desperate for another. This dreadful bar was terrible at satisfying my manly cravings for alcohol (and needs of the flesh for that matter).

"I’m sorry sir, but you don’t even work here… How can you possibly order a drink on the house or expect the bar to pay for your… how many drinks is that for you?" The miserable cretin eyed the numerous glasses in front of me, a look of disapproval on his face.

"This is my first beverage, you nosy fool!", I lied in a loud voice, causing the other people sitting at the bar to stare at me. "And even if it wasn’t, it is no concern of yours! These other glasses were left here by the previous patron and have been upsetting me with their presence and stench for an hour now! Please remove them posthaste or I will be forced to give my complaints to your manager or deal you a crisp facial smacking!!"

"Listen here pal! You’d better change that attitude of yours or you’re outta here!" the portly bartender warned. "I know that’s been more than one drink for you. You’d better calm your ass down or I’m gonna cut you off completely."

I prepared myself to tear this pathetic fool apart verbally, but the threat of discontinued alcohol made me hold my tongue. After all, my day had been quite horrible and I was in desperate need of a good blackout.
~*~
The day had begun much like any other. I’d awaken from my slumber with a splitting headache and a face full of hair. (The previous night had been spent shaving all of the hair off of my lower body and guzzling cheap wine whilst weeping hysterically at the pathetic dung-heap that my life has become.) I hopped into the shower, only to remember that I’d torn my shower head from the wall in a fit of blind rage and corked the hole. I swallowed my anger and drew myself a cold, coppery-colored bath. The liquid that filled the tub made me grimace and a single tear ran down my already tear-stained face as I clutched my belly and dry heaved several times. Something resembling a sour hunk of potato tumbled out of my watering maw. I plucked the morsel from the floor and sniffed it with curiosity. My stomach rumbled loudly with hunger and I popped the spud chunk into my mouth as I slid my body into the revolting tub water.

I bathed my increasingly disgusting body and simultaneously brushed my increasingly yellow teeth. Today was a special day for me. I lay back in the tub and kneaded my testicles between my fingers as I pondered the day’s upcoming events.

After ejaculating into the disgusting water around me several times, I climbed from the tub and dressed myself in casual garb, slicked back my hair, vaselined my mustache, tweezed my eyebrows, and applied a generous dose of Malaysian Warrior‘s perfume to my face, neck, and chest so as to make the best possible impression on my (hopefully) former employers. After all, job interviews are quite important.

I pulled my car into the parking lot at the local McDonald’s restaurant. I was quite hungry and needed to have a full stomach in order to let my gentlemanly charm show. The drive-thru was packed this early in the morning, but I waited anyway, impatiently shouting curses at the car in front of me until the large African American man within poked his bulbous head out and told me to "Shut my damn cracker mouth" or he’d "Knock my fucking teeth out". I ordered a helping of chicken nuggets and a box of French fries, parked my car in the restaurant parking lot, and crammed the food into my famished mouth as I traipsed through the door of the restaurant for my interview. In this struggling economy, one can’t be too picky when searching for employment.

I plopped down in the uncomfortable chair that sat across from the manager’s desk and crossed my legs. The manager, who was a very fat bald man with terrible acne and sweat stains under his arms, sat at his desk, rifling through papers as if looking for something. I assumed that his appearance was due to his high consumption of the food he so proudly sold. The appearance of a hamburger and fries on the desk next to him proved my theory.

"Um.. I can’t seem to find an application or resume for you at all.", the obese whale said in a high pitched voice.

"Well that’s because I didn’t submit either one.", I stated matter-of-factly. "I was in here several days ago and your service was deplorable. You obviously need help around here and I just happen to be in need of employment. So, where do I pick up my uniforms and when will I be starting?"

"Let me get this straight…", the revolting blob replied, his face turning as red as Ronald McDonald’s nose. "You just walk in here off the street and expect me to give you a job?"

"Absolutely, I do!" I said, my voice becoming more fierce. "And I didn’t just walk in here off the street! I drove here from my apartment. I even devoured some of your lousy food before I came in, just for good measure! See?"
I lifted the tail of my shirt so the beast could see the ketchup stain.
The red stain was from weeks ago and it wasn’t actually ketchup. Due to the ridiculous price of light bulbs and also due to the fact that my apartment is pitch black anytime after 7pm because all of mine are burnt out, I was attempting to steal eight 75watt light bulbs from the local K-Mart. Unfortunately, I slipped on the freshly mopped floor and fell onto my stomach, crushing the bulbs and cutting my stomach badly. The blood on my shirt didn’t wash out, probably due to the fact that I hadn’t attempted to wash the shirt at all since the incident. Damned K-Mart employees and their superb floor-cleaning techniques...

"Sir, I can’t just hire you. There’s a process that you have to go through and you need to fill out an application."

"I can assure you that I have a spotless record!" I shouted at the burly heathen. "To not hire me this instant would be the single biggest mistake of your ridiculous career!"

"I’m sorry Sir. You need to fill out an application just like everyone else."

I was furious, to say the least. I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists and stifled a vengeful scream. It was at that moment that I felt a steady stream of diarrhea explode into my pants and I suddenly remembered why I didn’t eat at McDonald’s more often. The accompanying sound was much like the noise a mother’s lips make when she blows a raspberry onto the distended belly of her writhing infant. The fat manager looked shocked and horrified.

"On second thought, I don’t think I’d like to work here after all!" I said loudly, my face red with embarrassment. "I honestly don’t think you people could afford to pay me what I’m worth!"

I forced a chuckle and stood up, filling the air in the office with the stench of raw sewage. I glanced at the soiled seat and grimaced.
Then, I turned on my heel and waddled out of the office, leaving a trail of watery fecal matter on the floor behind me. I shed my pants and underwear in the parking lot, so as not to taint the interior of my automobile, leapt into my car, and sped away from the restaurant, pausing only briefly to once more go through the drive-thru and purchase several Big-Mac combos, a McChicken sandwich, an order of McNuggets, and an ice cream cone. Who needs a job anyway?