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Four boring jobs. Four bored idiots. Witness the workday ramblings of a quartet of morons breaking the chains of tedium before nipping off to the pub. Atop Mount Drinkmore, every hour is Happy Hour.
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The Torment of Tom Carvel
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8 comments:
I got a voicemail from him a little while ago. He must've called from his cell phone, though, because the message was a little garbled, and I can't tell if he's out "fighting crime" or "fighting grime."
Which means Rich is either finally fulfilling his superhero fantasy or sponging down his bathroom tile...
Wherever he is, I hope he's enjoying a nice stack of hotcakes.
Rich was always happiest with a stack of hotcakes...
(You know, that should have been how Kirk summed up his eulogy of Spock in Wrath of Khan.)
The most reasonable explanation I can come up with is that Rich was devoured by a swarm of carnivorous flies.
I never understood why he insisted on using KC Masterpiece Body Wash...
I remember him mumbling something about "gettin back to the earth" and trying to somehow work mesquite into his daily routine.
No, no, he wasn't talking about mesquite; Rich was calling his neighbor a meeskeit. (It's a Yiddish word that means "You're so ugly you should be smothered in barbeque sauce.")
The war on grime was...grimy.
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