tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2132651268227749061.post4880081466968999074..comments2023-05-17T07:36:36.459-05:00Comments on Skull Buggery: Hi (insert name here)! Is This a Good Time to Chat about an Exciting New Career Opportunity!Lord Fondleberrieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07782463829415250319noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2132651268227749061.post-84779398703127708122006-12-27T17:26:00.000-05:002006-12-27T17:26:00.000-05:00I'd wish a pox on you and your poor family, but it...I'd wish a pox on you and your poor family, but it seems my wish already has been granted. Oh bliss and glory.<br /><br />Sir, you say; you will call me GOD. For I will reign fire down on thee from high in my gold-plated office. I will smite you and all that you attempt in your pathetic existance. It is pity you seek, but flaming shit you will receive.<br /><br />I condemn you to a life of dressing the festering wounds left from that headset, never to once place an able employee at a job suited to his skills. I laugh with joy at seeing precious life drained ever so slowly from the mouth breathing wretches you call children. I will ensure that your phone calls go unanswered and that the pills and syrups you seek never touch those cancered lips. I will close those closet walls in around you until . . . you get the point, go fuck yourself, basically.<br /> <br />Oh yes, Happy HolidaysLord Fondleberrieshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07782463829415250319noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2132651268227749061.post-19593493643660492006-12-27T15:13:00.000-05:002006-12-27T15:13:00.000-05:00I must feebly protest your lampooning of a noble t...I must feebly protest your lampooning of a noble trade, sir. Not for everyone are the well-apportioned high-rises and corner offices; no for some, for me, alas, there is this tiny home office, a closet really, and this damned headset that digs into my skin like a patient vulture. Hello? Is now a good time to talk? From the corner of my eye, my two infants suck on their kneecaps because their mother’s cancerous dugs have gone dry, their stomachs swollen, taut, and I make these phonecalls in the hope that I can soon afford medicine to keep the fever down--as if any pill or sour syrup could assuage this ceaseless ennui. Hello? Please answer me.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01649022283238366172noreply@blogger.com