FIFTEEN B (and B stands for BONUS!)

Since a lot a you are probably reading this and saying to yourself why the fuck is Bob teasing me with this shit about getting fired -- and then never telling me what happened -- I decided to ease your pain a little bit. Here's what happened:

I got fired from work today.

I was following my normal schedule and nothing seemed out a the ordinary: My soul and body were prepared for another round a crushing labor, and when I got done with the twelve hours a lifting boxes in and out a big long trucks I was gonna go to a bar and light myself up. But I still had the day a work to get through. So I prepared myself and went. When I got there, I saw my boss standing behind his pea-green podium. He said: “Where the hell have you been?” like he was mad I hadn't kept an appointment.

It was a strange question because it was Monday; I wasn't late; and if he knew me at all he'd know I spent the entire weekend drinking beer and fucking pussy.

“I’m five minutes early," I said and continued to the lockers to get into my jumpsuit as if nothing was wrong, because in my mind, what little of it there is, nothing was wrong.

“Where the hell were you Monday and Tuesday?” he said.

I stared at him. He seemed perfectly normal, healthy, fit, and not sweating or anything that would convince me he was suffering from a fever or delusions. “You might wanna check the calendar," I said. "It is Monday.”

“You check the calendar. It’s Wednesday. You’re two days late for work!”

Phil's a bit of an uptight prick. He's also a manger so sometimes he said things just for effect, and since he'd went to a managerial seminar in order to lie convincingly to his employees, you just couldn't believe what he said.

So I gave myself some time to ruminate on the possibility it was two days later than I thought.

Now, as far as I am concerned, it's impossible to sleep through two whole days unless you did something special. I hadn't. My weekend had been normal. I invited over my next door neighbor when her old man wasn't home and the broad that lived upstairs and I fucked 'em all afternoon. I fucked 'em so much I thought my dick was gonna fall off. Then I woke up this morning. No way it was three days later.

At least I didn't believe it until he showed me a newspaper. In the corner there was a date and the date said it was Wednesday.

So, it turned out Phil was right: It was Wednesday, and I was two days late for work, no matter how impossible that seemed. So, considering all a my other absences and write ups, I was pretty much fucked. Phil said he couldn't let me abuse the company attendance policy; it was an insult to SuperLogistics, LLC. and all hardworking Americans everywhere. I told him he can suck on my meat. Then I whipped it out and dared him to.

He did the only appropriate thing for a man like him could do: he called security. After a struggle, in which one a the guards copped a couple feels, they "escorted me from the premises."

That's how I got unemployed.

There, you happy now? Don't say I don't care about my readers!