The Beer FactoryDave Newman
I got an interview at the Beer Factory. The manager was made of glass and his office was a refrigerator. He had a liver that poked through his cotton shirt and a gut the size of a half barrel. He said, “How much do you drink?” I said, “A lot.” Then I showed him. Six months later, and I’m completely bored. Everyone stinks like booze and pukes a lot. The woman next to me wears too much lipstick and the man at the front desk keeps throwing darts at my chest and hitting my balls with a pool cue. For lunch I have sex with my boss but she keeps forgetting my name and I’m always too drunk to come. Yesterday, driving home from work, I ran over my own toe.
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