Though I’m convinced that my natural state is unemployed (though not necessarily penniless in spite of the paltry compensation I get from Go Figure Reads,) I just recently celebrated my 6 month anniversary working for Amalgamated Monster LLC.
To commemorate, they allowed us two hours of radio by their wholly owned subsidiary WEVL (all evil – all the time.)
Beetle customarily sits next to me in his Papa John’s Pizza shirt. Wearing it each day saves him time for three games of Galaga between his shift at Amalgamated Monster and his delivery job.
Apparently Beetle also saves time by not doing laundry, showering, or perhaps even brushing his teeth.
“Aren’t you embarrassed wearing a Papa John’s shirt when you’re not delivering pizza?” I asked him.
“Why?” said Beetle. “It’s not Little Caesars.”
Word around the Pepsi machine is that Beetle is true Amalgamated Monster material. Everybody figures he’s on the fast-track for promotion. I’d be tempted to ride on his coat-tails if they weren’t slimed with long-dead anchovies.
I might not have seen Helga Hofstra again if not for Amalgamated Monster. She was my childhood sweetheart and I’d lost track of her nearly forty years ago. One day I spotted Helga working on a machine with so many blaring lights and creepy sounds that everyone in my work-group was afraid to even ask what it does. As I gazed upon my lost love, I reflected on how she grew up to look much like my High School chemistry teacher.
And he was not a good looking man.
WEVL announced a Milli Vanilli countdown as the afternoon project came in. We were each issued a stack of 8 ½ x 11 sheets and told to tri-fold them to fit in a business envelope. When asked why they didn’t use the paper folder machine in the office, Pam, our middle manager just shuddered and walked away briskly.
The writing on each sheet was in some foreign language, so we didn't know what we were doing. The most popular theories among my co-workers were 1) we were packaging biological weapon infused paper for enemies of the NSA, 2) the sheets were fold-n-sniff samples for the cologne eau-de-skunk cabbage, and 3) that we were sending out Amway propaganda to third world nations.
I hoped it was one of the first two – third world nations have enough trouble without sicking Amway on them.
Just as we were about to pass out from the great cloud of skunk cabbage flavored anthrax, Helga’s scary machine gave out a flatulent sounding fanfare that either announced our imminent deaths, or the end of the work-day. Our response to either possibility was the same. We packed up our belongings and headed for the exit except for Beetle who made a decayed pizza smelling bee-line for the Galaga machine.
Yup, that was another day at Amalgamated Monster. I still say that my natural state is unemployment, but if I have to work – this is the best job I've ever had.
Speaking of tough work - here's one of my favorite movie openings.