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"'It's about my paycheck,'" Glenh thought. "'It's about MY paychcheck? It's about my PAYcheck? It's about my PAYcheck.'" "Mr. Ginoo will see you now," the secretary said. Glenh thanked her and walked on in. Mr. Ginoo was studying the tip of his pinky. "Does this booger look right to you?" he said. "It's abOUT my paycheck." Damn! Ginoo put the booger with the others and raised his eyebrows. "Oh?" "When I agreed to work for this concern, in the capacity also agreed upon, I was promised that my labor would be highly-compensated." Ginoo was quiet. "Well, it wasn't at the exact same time that I agreed," Glenh continued. "I think it was a little earlier." Glenh wanted to be clear, because language, improperly wielded, can obscure meaning. Circling back to his original point, he concluded, "Be that as it may, "highly-compensated" was what I was given to believe." "That doesn't sound right to me. Are you absolutely certain?" "Yes sir. Says so right here in my contract." Glenh patted his breast pocket. "Hm, tell you what. Why don't you come around here to my side of the desk and we'll go over this contract of yours. Together." Glenh came around and Ginoo patted his lap so Glenh sat in it. He took out the contract and put it on the desk. "Now then," Ginoo said, "I think if you consult the relevant paragraph, you'll note that the wording is somewhat different than you suggest." Glenh scanned the page and paused at the relevant paragraph. He grabbed the contract with both hands and farted in disbelief. Ginoo chuckled. "Yes," he said. "You were promised a highly-CONstipated position, Mr. Pot, not a highly-compensated one. I'm sure it was an honest mistake on your part. At any rate, check your fecal records; I'm more than confident you'll find that Amalgamated Menstrual has met its contractual obligations." "I have been a little backed up, now that you mention it, but it just doesn't make any sense..." "Come, come, Mr. Pot, don't be naive. Consider the breadth and bulk of your duties. Of course the position would be highly-constipated." "But... how did you... why..." "Never mind the details, Mr. Pot. How we 'clogged your keister' is hardly relevant. Point is we did, and now that that little formality has been taken care of, the time has come to discuss the matter of your salary." Ginoo patted Glenh's haunch and said, "Uppy!" Glenh stood and watched as his employer removed a small briefcase from the credenza. Ginoo popped the catches and opened it, revealing two neat rows of hundred dollar bill-stacks. "One million dollars!" he said. "I don't understand," said Glenh. "How did you find a briefcase with an interior that so perfectly fits one million dollars?" "We will save that story for another time, Mr. Pot. Let us now get down to administering your pay, per paragraph 14 of your precious contract." Glenh scanned the page and paused at the relevant paragraph. Farts could not express his disbelief. "Yes, Mr. Pot. Open wide. And I don't mean your mouth."
Date Written: April 28, 2011
Average Vote: 4.25