Simulacrum wrote:You should have spent 2-3 hours in the printing room with the door closed.. grunting and banging into things. Then smear printer ink all over your face and emerge with her papers- "thank God you called me down here. That was the toughest job I've ever had to face".
Either that or tell her something totally insane like -
"It's no wonder there was a problem. There was a midget living in there! Yeah, a MIDGET! Thought the little bugger was going to bite my ankles off. I finally smacked him in the head enough times with a stapler that he passed out, so I stuck him in a paper box, sealed it up, and stuck the box in the trash. Oh, and if you get a little blood on your copies, don't worry about it, just keep reprinting it until all the blood is gone. Little bugger couldn't hold that much blood, could he?"
"Thank God you called me! There were panties stuck in there! So very glad I was the one who got called because I'd have been in huge trouble since I was involved with that. You didn't happen to find any other clothing around here, did you? Some hookers are just plain messy."
"Come here and prove to me that you're not too stupid to know how to unplug and replug something in."
Yes doctor, I am sick.
Sick of those who are spineless.
Sick of those who feel self-entitled.
Sick of those who are hypocrites.
Yes doctor, an army is forming.
Yes doctor, there will be a war.
Yes doctor, there will be blood.....