Ah yes, Summer. . . The time when a boy's thoughts turn to Bikinis, nubile young girls, and nubile young girls in Bikinis. Oh, and money. After all, we have to have the requisite cash to pay for all of that expensive buying-of-drinks that one must do in order to aquire the nubile young girls in Bikinis. Even if you're only buying them a 3-liter of Faygo Red Pop, the girls completely ignore you unless you're treating them to something or other. . . it's one of those universal facts of life. At any rate, in order to get the cash to pay for the things to make the girls want you, you have to get a job. . . and as far as girls go, nobody really knows why the hell they get jobs. . . they just con us into buying everything for them anyway.
But I digress. . . no one really cares what girls are doing when they're not busy ignoring me in order to hit on some more attractive guy. Anyway, when I set out to get a job this summer, I thought I'd do something nice, and fun, like work in a movie theater, or perhaps be a waiter at a restaurant. However, something a little different fell into my lap, though before I talk about that, I suppose I'd better explain a little bit about my place of employment. Right now, I get my paychecks from MPI Research, that big scary place in Mattawan, Michigan that used to be IRDC, of Monkey Bite fame. Apparently some fool was bitten by one of those Hepatitis-carrying Rhesus Monkeys ten or so odd years ago, and he decided not to treat the bite, and, thus, contracted hepatitis and died without ever having taken his dream vacation to the Carribean. IRDC. . . was a bad place, and MPI is much better. Is it better management? An owner who cares? Well, the company would explain the better working conditions that way, but they'd only be telling you half the truth. You see, MPI is just a front. . . the building is actually just a testing facility for the British secret service!!!
Behind those rooms upon rooms of drugged up rats, pigs, and monkeys are rooms upon rooms of rocket launchers, grenades, and telephones cleverly disguised as stylish yet slightly out of date pennyloafers. Recorded sounds of dogs barking are played through the halls at all hours of the day in order to disguise the sounds of Ninjas training on the south end of the building, and dog smell is shipped in by the truckload from Sri Lanka in order to keep up the ruse. Oh, and you think those pigs and rats are real? No, no, my friend. . . they're all cunningly designed animatronics. In fact, my job there, data entry, is a complete front. Sure, they tell me that I'm entering data from the latest drug study, but what am I actually entering? Gibberish! My entire job is to maintain the front that clinical data is being produced, when, in fact, that data is a series of random words, numbers, and phrases! But, now that I think about it, the data might not be so random. . . I'm always entering phrases like "Hair absent, ventral surface. Skin discolored, eyl, red. Limb function impaired, ffl." My keen mind is now indicating to me that perhaps all of the data is a secret code for spying on those commie bastards, the russians. Oh, sure, they say they're not commies anymore, but wait until the Canadians invade! Then we'll see what's what. Moving on. . .
Good pay, flexible hours. If you're interested in helping the British secret service maintain a covert presence in Mattawan, or you just like punching numbers into computers, then drop on in to MPI in Mattawan, but don't tell them I sent you. . . they're already suspicious. Just yesterday a man in dark glasses approached me and informed me that the crow would fly at midnight, and were the booby-hatches in place. I replied that yes, they were, but then informed him that his fly was open. He looked down, embarressed, and zipped up. However, he gave me a dirty look and stormed away, mutting about security breaches and assasins training their AWP sniper rifles on my head. . . I think I might have made a mistake. All well, I'll take revenge by ordering dozens of Pizzas from my new loafer-phone, and have them all delivered to Human Resources at noon on a friday!! MUAHAH! I Shall have my REVENGE!
Have an interesting story about your summer job that you'd like to share? Feel free to castrate yourself with a dull knife rather than telling me about it!!