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Dylan dropped the faggot of two-by-fours to the ground.
"Fuck!" he bellowed, wishing he hadn't forgotten to put on his steel-toed boots that morning.
He thought back wistfully to his days of teaching high school chicks how to get around those pesky statutory rape laws. Why had he ever agreed to work for Taylor Construction?
First, Mr. Taylor, that little cunt, had lowered his hourly from $25 to $10. Then, on the illegal immigrant Danko's first day of work, he had been demoted to the lowly position of sander. The latest insult had been this morning, when Mr. Taylor had insisted that Dylan not "crank the BTO" while working.
"Total fascist bollocks," Danko muttered to himself while sanding down the lumber. "Because what else do we do in here but TCOB? Taking Care of Business, mate."
"What was that, Danko?"
Dylan looked up from his work, squinting in the harsh glare thrown off by Taylor's vintage WWII jackboots. The little immigrant stood up and removed his tweed derby cap.
"Oh, uh, hallo, Mr. Taylor," Danko said, crushing the cap in his hands, "Smashing day, in'it guv'na?"
Taylor nodded contemptuously and walked away, his pompous body language screaming: "That's right. I have a girlfriend. A GIRLfriend."
Date Written: February 04, 2003
Average Vote: 3.5