Johnny, You're FIRED Too!
'Dear John, or whatever your name is, you have been my ever faithful, always there when I needed some sort of 'personal assisting', Personal Assistant since I hired you for the job. You always had my thousand dollar suits pressed and laid out for me, you always warmed my silk underwear just the way I like it, although sometimes I'm pretty sure you wore them a bit too long, but did I ever complain? No, not once. You 'know', I always appreciated the way you brushed my teeth, and combed my flaxen doo. And did I ever whine when your ice cold finger poked through the toilet paper? No, not once, even though it seemed to happen a lot more often than 'normal', not that I'm 'complaining' mind you, and you 'know' what I mean. And didn't I always allow you to snack on the leftovers on my 95k gold plated dinner plate? And you have to admit that I've always thought of you as an unwanted adopted sibling, but did I ever throw that up in your face John, in public? No, never once. In short, whenever I whistled, you always, like a good 'lap dog', came running, wagging your little tail, lips drooling, tongue dragging across my primo gold threaded carpet, eager to please your wonderful, benevolent, master.
However, as much as I 'love' you Johnny, whatever 'love' is, it appears that you have suffered some sort of "Unspecified Security Issue". Of course nobody's telling me what that 'issue' is but I'm in the firing mode, so you gotta go. Just leave all your personal stuff, oh, and your coat too, that might fit the next sucker I hire. In short, you're FIRED! Guards! Escort'em outta here! Next!!'
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'Dear John, or whatever your name is, you have been my ever faithful, always there when I needed some sort of 'personal assisting', Personal Assistant since I hired you for the job. You always had my thousand dollar suits pressed and laid out for me, you always warmed my silk underwear just the way I like it, although sometimes I'm pretty sure you wore them a bit too long, but did I ever complain? No, not once. You 'know', I always appreciated the way you brushed my teeth, and combed my flaxen doo. And did I ever whine when your ice cold finger poked through the toilet paper? No, not once, even though it seemed to happen a lot more often than 'normal', not that I'm 'complaining' mind you, and you 'know' what I mean. And didn't I always allow you to snack on the leftovers on my 95k gold plated dinner plate? And you have to admit that I've always thought of you as an unwanted adopted sibling, but did I ever throw that up in your face John, in public? No, never once. In short, whenever I whistled, you always, like a good 'lap dog', came running, wagging your little tail, lips drooling, tongue dragging across my primo gold threaded carpet, eager to please your wonderful, benevolent, master.
However, as much as I 'love' you Johnny, whatever 'love' is, it appears that you have suffered some sort of "Unspecified Security Issue". Of course nobody's telling me what that 'issue' is but I'm in the firing mode, so you gotta go. Just leave all your personal stuff, oh, and your coat too, that might fit the next sucker I hire. In short, you're FIRED! Guards! Escort'em outta here! Next!!'
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