Last night I dreamed I was the executive assistant to Vic Mackie, who was the owner of a garage/oil well. He also happened to be a vigilante. One day, after bringing down a flying 18-wheeler by hurling a rubber tire through its windshield, killing the driver, Mackie asked me to rent a steamroller for him.
"How long do you want it for?" I asked nervously.
"I'll only need it for about five seconds," he answered.
It turns out that you have to rent steamrollers in increments of 3.5 hours, which I dutifully did. When the steamroller arrived at the garage, Mackie hopped into the cab and steamrolled two sobbing bad guys, gruesomely mashing them flat. They burst like blood-filled balloons.
I'm glad I don't have that job in real life.
"How long do you want it for?" I asked nervously.
"I'll only need it for about five seconds," he answered.
It turns out that you have to rent steamrollers in increments of 3.5 hours, which I dutifully did. When the steamroller arrived at the garage, Mackie hopped into the cab and steamrolled two sobbing bad guys, gruesomely mashing them flat. They burst like blood-filled balloons.
I'm glad I don't have that job in real life.
1 comment:
I don't feel like your heart was really in that last line...
Post a Comment