Boss: Who is it?
Me: Hi, boss. It's me.
Boss: Oh, hey, Tony. Yeah, yeah. Come in, bro.
Me: You wanted to talk to me?
Boss: Yeah, Tony, yeah. Wanted to talk to you about your career.
Me: Oh, okay. What about?
Boss: Well, to be honest, Tony, your numbers really leave something to be desired.
Me: What? What numbers? I'm selling well, getting corporate account leads. I'm bringing in a lot of money here.
Boss: Tony, sometimes it's not about the money, dude. *Pause* Sometimes it's about the virgin sacrifices.
Me: Yeah, been meaning to talk to you about those...
Boss: This isn't the first time we've had this conversation, Tony.
Me: I know, I know. It's just... I'm still not really sure how I feel about sacrificing virgins.
Boss: Okay, well, how many have you got under your belt now?
Me: Um, zero, I think.
Boss: And how many did we agree you should be sacrificing each month?
Me: I think you said the corporate minimum was seven.
Boss: So... that leaves a... shortfall of... seven. Thus far.
Me: Yeah. Good math. But I was talking to some other managers and they were saying there's no company policy on virgin sacrifices.
Boss: *Booming, gravelly voice* WHO DARES DEFY ME?
Me: Brendan. From accounting.
Boss: That d-bag.
Me: But I'm doing great at my goat's-blood-drinking.
Boss: Great. How many pints a day?
Me: Four or five. At the very least.
Boss: Good, good. And the snatching-babies-from-open-windows?
Me: Two so far this month.
Boss: Excellent. Quite excellent. The dark lord is pleased.
Me: *Blushing* Thanks...
Boss: You know, Tony, if you just threw a few more bricks through church window, I see no reason why you couldn't be doing my same job in a thousand years.
Me: You really think so?
Boss: No. I'm leading you on. I am pure lies and confusion.
Me: Oh. So you didn't really like my tie last week?
Boss: That tie made you look fat.
Me: How can a tie make someone look fat?
Boss: I don't know. But you found a way with that tie last week. And gay. It made you look gay, too. Tony, all I'm saying is that you've got to really want it.
Me: Want what?
Boss: The destruction of all that is good and holy and decent.
Me: I'm beginning to think maybe this job's not for me.
Boss: You can't ever leave, Tony. Ever. EVER! Mua ha ha! Ha ha ha! *More maniacal laughter*
Me: Really? Ever?
Boss: Well, two weeks. We'd need two weeks notice.
Me: Oh, that's not so bad. Okay, so here's my two weeks notice.
Boss: And there will be exit interviews! *Self-consciously spooky voice* Exit interviews! And paperwork! Mountains and mountains of paperwork! Mua ha ha! Ha ha ha! *Still more maniacal laughter, but this time it's obvious he feels anxious that I'm undaunted* Scared yet?
Me: Um, gosh. No. No, I'm not.
Boss: And you'll have to meet with Cheryl. FROM THE FIERY DEPTHS OF HUMAN RESOURCES!
Me: I like Cheryl. Cheryl's nice. What's wrong with Cheryl?
Boss: No reason. *It's clear that he's really hiding some pain behind his coal-black eyes* No reason.
Me: It's okay. You can tell me.
Boss: The... The bitch turned me down for a date.
Me: What? You? Why? You're suave. You're a good talker. You possess mind-control.
Boss: She said I reek of sulfur.
Me: *Pause* Noooooo...
Boss: Really? You don't think I reek of sulfur?
Me: You... I hardly ever noticed.
Boss: I tried covering it up with some Old Spice. Does it work?
Me: Well, you're not using too little Old Spice. I will say that much.
Boss: Shoot, man! I can't do anything right! I drive such a nice car, I go to such hip dance clubs, I am the creator of famines and plagues. And still, I can't get a nice girl. *Wipes what appears to be a tear from the corner of his eye*
Me: Hey, listen. It's been great. I'm gonna go back to work now, alright. But my two weeks notice is in, okay? Do you want me to be the one to e-mail Cheryl?
Boss: Sure. You know what? You wanna grab a drink tonight after work?
Me: Oh. Me? I'm... I'm real busy. I've got to walk my dog and do some grocery stuff.
Boss: No prob, no prob. Just some time before you quit, alright? The two of us. Out on the town. Chasing skirts! Eat some souls? I know this great place to steal some souls.
Me: Definitely. Definitely. For sure. Chasing skirts. *Backing out the door*
Boss: Alright! You're not just leading me on, are you? We're gonna get drinks? *Really desperate, sad, and pathetic looking*
Me: Yeah, man. For sure. It's gonna be fun. *Inching closer and closer to the exit, one foot actually out the door*
Boss: You're the best! The best! Oh, this is gonna be awesome!
Me: Awesome, for sure. Hundred percent.
Boss: We're bros! Bros for life!
Me: Bye. *Out the door, closing it behind me*
Boss: It's good having a bro. *Presses play on his computer. “Birthday Sex” comes on* This my jam!
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