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The Worst Job in the World

February 1st, 2008 · No Comments · Uncategorized

The Worst Job in the World!


Okay, the headlines say that they just killed the number 3 man in Al Qaeda. Isn’t this like the 25th time they’ve killed the number 3 man in Al Qaeda?


So, I guess there’s going to be an opening on Craig’s List tomorrow. Right next to add for the drummer for Spinal Tap.


They probably don’t even learn their name any more. Hey, who are you? I’m the new number 3 guy? Really? Nice sneakers, can I have them, uh, you know, when you’re done with them?


Okay, everyone, we’re having a big Valentine’s Day dance. The girls are going to wear the sexy burkhas, so you know, bring your camera, because there are definitely going to be some hot nostril shots to be had. Post your best shots on DeathtoAmericaHoesGoneWild.Com So, everyone who can make the dance, take one step forward. Not so fast number 3. Oh, don’t look so sad. Whose gonna have 72 virgins? That’s right, my man. And those bitches will totally show nostril, mustache, the whole fuckin’ nine. You’re a lucky man.


Hi 3, what’s up? I was wondering about this new Iphone, can I get the extended warranty? No, you don’t want that. Will Apple make this totally obsolete in a year? Well, yeah, but don’t worry about it. So do my minutes roll over. Sure. Yeah, why not? Hey, I’d love to chat more, but would you, you know,stand over there? I gotta check something in the back. (Hey, Amhad, what’s the blast perimeter for a Predator Drone Missile? Really? Fuck.) Dude, you might want to check over at the AT&T store. Just a sec. (Ahmed, how far away is Steve’s Falafel Stand? Really? Cool, could you help this guy, I’m going to go to lunch.) So, enjoy that phone. Ahmad is going to help you with that.


.


So, dude, did you buy a number in the pool? What pool? You buy dates on the calendar. A drachma a square, and if Number 3 eats it on your day, you win the pot, Allah willing. But I’m Number 3? Really? Yeah? So, you wanna buy a square, you know, for the kids?


So we’re all sitting in my car, Smoking a spliff, and hating their freedom and shit. You know. And I look over and like there’s this new guy sitting next to Lil’ Moho. And I’m like, “Who are you?” And he’s like, “I’m the new number 3.” And I’m like, “Dude, just get the fuck out of my car. I just washed it.” So we all jump out and run, but too fucking late. Whoom! And when I look up, my car is completely disintegrated. So does my policy cover that? What do you mean, am I going to have number 3 in the car again? I wouldn’t have let him in the first place if I’d known who he was? What? Well, yeah, he had a number on his shirt, but I thought he was just a Knick’s fan. What? No? Hey, fuck you and your Limey infidel Gecko, too. How you like it if I come over there and saw his little green head off on the YouTube? Huh? Huh? Well I could get a ride, don’t you worry about that. I’d get there


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