So the wife shuts off the TV and says “Look, ya lazy bum, ya been on unemployment for three months! I’m tired of ya sittin’ around lazin’ on the couch and doin’ nothin’. Go get a job!”
Now, I’m a reasonable kind a guy. I worked on the line for thirteen years ‘fore they shut the factory down. Three months is long enough, I guess, ‘fore I need to go find somethin’ else. Problem is, I ain’t trained for nothin’ but puttin’ doors on cars as they come down the line. My specialty, as it were, y’know. I could slap a pair a doors on a car faster than you could say Put them doors on that car! Kinda limits yer options, y’know?
So I check the newspaper, ‘n’ here’s this ad: Man wanted. Will train. ‘n’ a phone number. Seemed simple and sweet, so I called it. I figured it was some kind a day labour thing, y’know? Haulin’ trash or demolition work or stuff like that.
‘Stead, they ask me all sorts a weird questions. Like, had I ever killed anything with my bare hands. Had I ever twisted a steel bar. Had I ever had a place in the mountains where I could be alone. What was my knowledge a chemistry and engineering dynamics. Stuff like that. I figured, tell ’em what they wanted to hear, so I says I’d killed thirty-seven people in thirty-two different ways — they liked that. Told ’em I could not only twist a steel bar, I could break that sucker in half. They really liked that, y’know? Told ’em I had a degree in chemistry from UCLA and a degree in engineering from MIT. They couldn’t invite me in for an interview fast enough.
That night, I crammed like I aint never crammed for an exam before: read four books cover to cover on chemistry ‘n’ how it was yer friend. Got up to an 12-guage steel rod in the bendin’ department. Figured I’d bluff my way through the rest of it, snagged a few hours’ sleep, and then went in bright ‘n’ early at 10AM.
Well, they knew within just a few minutes that I was so full a horse crap it wasn’t funny, but they figured maybe they could do somethin’ with me anyway since I was the only one who’d responded to the ad in the first place. They fit me for this costume ‘n’ tell me that my new name is Malevoevilo er something’ like that, ‘n’ now I’m a member a “an elite squad of super villains”. I wasn’t so sure I liked the villain part, but the money — man, you can’t imagine the money involved here. So they trained me in some simple chemistry stuff ‘n’ a little engineering dynamics ‘n’ gave me this swell place out in the mountains where I can be alone while waitin’ for them to send me on some super villain mission. Turns out they make a pretty good amount a coin every time I blow somethin’ up or wreak worldwide chaos or cause massive destruction, ‘n’ I get not only my base salary but a pretty good commission as well if I’m quick ‘n’ thorough enough.
‘N’ I made a bunch of new friends too, which keeps the wife happy, since, like, we never went out er nothin’ with the guys on the line. They kid her about what a badass I am, ‘n’ she just tells them I’m a pussycat at heart, ‘n’ we all laugh about the time we blew up this train trestle, ‘n’ it’s swell, y’know? Just damn swell. They’re even talkin’ about promotin’ me to Chief Manager Super Villain for the whole Cleveland area. I’d get a new car (one with a laser cannon, so I ain’t never gonna hafta worry about parking at the mall again!) ‘n’ a new uniform ‘n’ everything.
Only in America, huh?