Okay, you stupid fuck. You’ve had a lot of shit-brain ideas, but this is one of the chart-toppers.
Shrink wrap all the books? Why, you decide they’re just for show? Don’t EVER want to sell them? Yeah, so people read your books when they come in a spend all day hanging out there. You’re a game store owner-that shit happens. If it bugs you that much, then fucking say something to the freeloaders! Dammit! Now, we look like fucking morons because you’re anal about how the fucking book looks. If it’s that big of a deal, then grow a pair and fucking confront them. Jesus Christ!
Did you or your fat fucking domineering, stupid, know-nothing, crotch-grabbing, candle-burning, crystal-rubbing, incensing-huffing, butt-trumpeting wife come up with that little fucking gem of an idea?
You know, I tried to pick up the slack when you fired the other guy who actually knew what he was doing, but now, I swear to God you’re trying to get me to quit, and then you’ll be fucked, sonny jim, 'cause you hired a guy who plays roleplaying games exclusively, and turns his nose up at wargames and CCGs. What, are you fucking insane? AND FIX THE FUCKING CREDIT CARD MACHINE!!! I don’t care if your wife wants you to come home and service her 15 acre ass! Fucking stay on the phone with these people UNTIL THEY FUCKING GIVE YOU AN ANSWER OR A NEW MACHINE! How hard can that actually be? Goddam, how stupid does it make us look when we have to tell the customers, “Oh, we can run your card through, but we can’t give you a receipt. We can tell if you’r accepted, though, 'cause it’ll run the receipt paper through twice.” Oh yeah, really fucking professional. That’s the business equivalent of telling someone they can take a shit, but they have to jiggle the fucking handle when they flush. Why don’t we just drive around in the back of your wife/hosebeast/land leviathan’s van and sell shit off a fucking card table on a goddam street corner. We’d have about the same amount of credbility.
You stupid fuck. Don’t expect me to be around after January. And look for me to abuse the living shit out of that discount before I leave, chimp-fuck.
Then he said, “That is that.”
And then he was gone.
-Dr. Seuss, * The Cat in the Hat*