10,777. MR. IGNOLIO, I GET DULY DEPRESSED

MR. IGNOLIO, I GET 
DULY DEPRESSED

I've been working in your pawnshop for 11 years

now, and it's brought me not much charm and

no good luck at all. Therefore, I wish to speak

privately with you  -  and I shall bring along

my rare, 17th century chainmail restraint, just

so, in your obviously delirious interest in its

worth or value, you'll not be upset if I tie you

in it, should we not come to terms.

-

I am at the most-disgusted ends of my own

service to you; sick of it all, and you too. I

watch what you do. I try to understand the

reasons you give for things you do, but it

never works. I still go home each night,

annoyed by you, and irritated. I can hardly

take any more of this meted-out enticment

to drivel and decay. The means by which

you live, I mean to say.

-

Here's my consolation : you will give me

one-tenth more of this business ownership

than you were thinking, and shall increase

my weekly take by two-hundred dollars

every six-months. Don't like that, you

say? (Crack!  a sound ensues of someone

being beaten). You may sit up, once again,

and listen. I do not come here armed for

force, just my own pale justice. This billy

club will not hurt you again. That once

was enough, daresay? 

-

Now, this leaves me another spot to point

out : I will henceforth control the register

and the clerking of the books. Why? (Slap!

the sound of a face being punched ensues).

Why? Because I no longer trust your double

entry. I no longer will turn aside, (did I say

neither?) while you alter the take from every

transaction. (Thud! A man his hit with a

crowbar. $28.95, payable, 3 installments).

-

Now, Mr. Ignolio, please get up again. Oh

dear, he seems not moving. Would that be 

blood I see that trickles forth for where I

last hit? Overdid it again, my little bit.

Mr. Ignolio, I am truly distressed.