I've had a few jobs. If there's one thing, one fuckin' thing I know that's written in granite, it's that I'm definitely not employable.
Nope. Not at all. Surprise. I am not a people person. I do not, as my first grade teacher put it, play well with others. A few jobs back I was a taxidermist assistant. In New York City however, people mostly bring in pigeons and squirrels and I got bored, so I started literally mounting, literally mounting the animals onto each other. My imagination soared as I pondered the hellish genetic combination of pigeon/cat (posed doggy style for irony, snarky expressions placed on their faces), or my favorite, hawk/iguana (Cross genus! Where to even begin!) I was in the middle of building a Basilisk when my imagination, along with my ass, soared into the street, fired for stealing Mr. Grabowski's favorite rooster head. 'You can't make a Basilisk without a rooster head!' I implored with all logic but it was a no go and I got canned, though I still have the Basilisk.
I've had a few jobs. Previous to that I worked the human guinea pig circuit. Before they fired me for sleeping with all seven of my doctors...at once...I let them run me into the ground on a treadmill, study my goiter, inject my eyeballs with dye, look down my throat, up my ass, in my ears, scrape my nasal passage, give me eight different antidepressants at once, and tied me down Clockwork Orange style and made me watch the pilot to "30 Rock" 5 times until I threw up (actually, I threw up after the second showing but they couldn't find the "STOP" button on the Tivo. Idiots.)
And all that was before lunch.
(Now if Rachel Dratch was a cast member on the show, I might, might have enjoyed myself..........................<-- Tina Fey, please note extended pause and feel shame.)
I've had a few jobs. My relatively normal job before that was at Scholastic Books as an illustrator. I got fired. Long story short, I went out after work, got stinking, blind drunk, went home, decided to jerk-off to some soothing Internet porn, and passed out with my pants around my ankles like a set of corduroy shackles, whiskey dick in hand. Why is this different from, say, what YOU did last night? Because at 10:00 a.m. when I emerged from my porno blackout I found I wasn't sitting in front of my computer at home.
I had gone back to my office.
I've had a few jobs.
Before that I did my best Ed Norton and trolled the sewers for the MTA. I wasn't there to muck with pipes or wires, they just needed someone to flush out the vermin/insects/Velociraptors that make the sewers their home. I had this metal detector looking thing that emitted high frequency ultra-somethings that I guess were supposed to be frightening but did nothing but piss off the wildlife. One day a homeless subway denizen, who was literally living under the "3" train, surprised me and yanked my equipment away from me, running off down the tunnel. I gave chase, yet the running pustule pulled a landlubbing Aquaman and summoned several Great Beasts of the IRT to block my way, halting my pursuit. As I backed away from the rising wall of sewer rats, tank-esque cockroaches and child psychiatrists that impeded my chase, my assailant disappeared into the gloom. I fretted at what my boss would say about the lost ultra high frequency Flux Capacitor. No surprise, I was fired and a week later I spied a supiciously familiar homeless guy with a 80's boom box tricked out with suspiciously familiar looking Capacitor on the side. I'd say he looked like Dave Chapelle, but that would be predictable. It really was Dave Chapelle.
Oh, and Ed Norton was a character on this show called "The Honeymooners" and, ah......never mind.
Yeah, I've had a few jobs. Most of them, and there's about two dozen more that I'll save for another time, I worked alone. People piss me off too much too quickly, and Dad never came back from buying cigarettes, so I work alone now. As any practicing sociopath would tell you, self employment is the way to go, so finally I bought a small taxidermy shop in Chinatown that specializes in Griffins.
And no, I don't keep a computer in the shop.
