Do your job…


My girlfriend kicks my door open, storms in, throws a small black velvet covered box at me and belts out ‘Do your job!’ I was sleeping pretty well too. I look up, the last tendrils of blissful somnolence distorting my vision, but I can clearly see her looming over me with her ring finger thrust out accusingly.

“What in the fuck?” I mumble, feigning confusion. I should be confused. Any other man would be. Hell, I can be downright stupid on occasion. But sometimes I have a mind like a bullet train. Especially when it comes to understanding crazy people. I know exactly what this is and how it all came about. In the back of my mind I’m thinking “I’m going to kill my ex-wife for this”. I should have known when she offered to take Rachael to the flea market there’d be trouble. The two of them found some cheap ass ring together. Now I’m screwed.

“Do your job!” She repeats adamantly. There’s enough wry amusement to keep her voice from sounding blatantly hostile, but only just.

“Baby, what the fuck are you talking about?” Stalling for time. Need a way out. Think Monte think!

“Just do your damn job.” It’s a mantra. She’s got nothing else. There’s no wiggle room. I can’t reason or manipulate my way out of this. She’s got all the advantages on her side right now and she knows it. Her finger is hovering there expectantly, eagerly.

“What in the fuck is wrong with you? I was sleeping?” I can’t defeat her. We both know who’s going to win this one. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to give her a clean victory.

“Baby, just do your job.” Oh my god she’s literally going to beat me to death with her one liner. This is her whole plan. She’s got nothing else. Just repeat the same sentence over and over until I comply. There is no imagination or finesse here at all. And the truly sad part is that it’s going to work. This is all Jolie’s fault. She’s been talking about her plans to force her own boyfriend into getting her an engagement ring all week. Now my ex-wifes craziness has rubbed off on Ray Ray.

“Fine, here you go, now let me get some sleep.” She nearly skipped out of the room she was so happy.

Yes, I caved. The beginning of the month is coming up and I need her food stamps and she knows it. I put the ring on her finger (it was plastic). She can read whatever she wants into that. If she wants to think we’re engaged then she’s welcome to her delusions. I’m stuck with her for the moment.

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About thelastmonte

I'm a ninja for hire An ice cube on fire A soothsayer and liar Deceitful, dashing and dire A menacing muse muddling meanings in the mire My mind tumbles around like a cat in a dryer When it comes down to the wire I get lit like a pyre Kicking hobbits out the shire In jet black attire like a cocaine supplier And I aspire to acquire your ire Oh, and I also do freelance work.
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5 Responses to Do your job…

  1. Daniel says:

    Hah brilliant! 🙂 You did a marvelous article on cracked man 😉

  2. thelastmonte says:

    lol, thanks. I’m kind of astounded anyone found me yet. I haven’t posted this link up anywhere. What’d you do like google me or you found the link in the writers forums? I’ve kind of really just started this blog and I don’t even really know how to work it yet. Guess I better get off my ass and put shit up if I’m going to be found out.

  3. Daft Gadgets says:

    I read somewhere that you are a ninja for hire? Are you available for freelance work?

  4. Daft Gadgets says:

    Great. Send me an email with your contact info.

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