Mennonite Slave Trade?

"You stupid cunt nugget!" "You stoopid cock boggled mess of a man!" "How the fuck are you gonna call yourself a DRIVER, and let my mother ship run out of gas?" Jesper had no response. Not even my razor sharp tongue could get him to notion that he may be amused or saddened. I was obviously mildly irritated with Jesper.

I got no choice but to wait out this shitbag storm created by this inbred, twinkle toed, sperm sifter. Onstar? Not available in the 1975 Fleetwood Brougham. I ride dirty. I enjoy life. "Peach Optimo's" loaded with the herb of Crom are a mainstay. Black and Milds equal racial profiling and I am not interested in the odor. I like to sip my drink and be driven. Hence, the reason for a chauffeur.

I hired this unbelievable shit nutted Mennonite to "drive me". I figured since he was a man of faith, he'd give me some of those well needed "brownie points" with the GUY upstairs, if I employed one of his flock. Don't judge me my nickels, I have issues.

I wait. Jesper has not returned. It's possible he has quit. He gave me his two weeks notice 7 mins into being hired. Pussy. I dial up his pager. Yes, I'm a dick and still make my one employee wear a pager. "07734" (which is hello, upside down on a pager, if you didn't know.) I wait. What the fuck!?! I think. I'm callin his poon. I mean wife, Orlinda. "Sup my nucka." She speaks in a pleasant voice, "Hello." "Where the fucks yer paycheck at?" Silence.. "You got cock in your ear?" I ask. "Where's Jesper and my gas can?" She speaks, or whimpers, "He's walking back toward your car sir. He has a cell phone you know?" I hang up. I decide to save my lashing of this poor misguided ewe for later.

In between thoughts of serial killing sprees and circle jerking with Joan Jett and The Runaways, I am restless in my seat awaiting the jizz bandit Jesper. If it's slipped your mind, my last driver knocked up his sister and I fired him for being a Jerry Springer candidate. (see... Smoking Cigarettes With Your Sister)  Anyway, I want to keep this knob goblin around a while. He drives at a slow pace and doesn't show up drunk. He refuses to speak with me casually, which is fucking annoying, but I figure it'll take him a bit to get used to me. Oh and Fuck him! He works for me. Works.

His little wifey Orlinda is another story.. I need to get my hooks in her. Maybe I can have her mop up the pools of blood from the numerous discarded slightly used 9mm bullet casings spent on men and vodka bottles at Icandi's house. Hmm.. Zero could use someone to throw out dirty whores, pizza boxes, stale beer kegs, anime porn tapes, and used condoms every couple days.. Hmm. I ponder. Once we employ both of these fuckers, they'll never be able to escape our clutches and maybe we can convert them.. Even better would be to hire their entire family and start a cult...

I will work on this. Right now my only thought is.. Where the fuck is this taint sniffing ring king? Maybe I'll upgrade him to a cell phone if he makes it back in the next 45 secs.. Maybe. Out.