a Western Exterminator rep talking to a customer

THE WESTERN GUY LOOKS JUST LIKE THE FELLA IN THE DRAWING TOO. Except, nowhere near as slim or well-dressed. I was on the john when this flabby-ass dogcatcher banged a little too authoritatively on my door, and again 20 seconds after I shouted at him to give me a minute. The notice said to empty all cupboards by 9am. My cupboards consist of two chipped mugs I remember drinking from in 1983. I only needed ten minutes, which he was apparently unable to give me, even ten minutes before the scheduled spraying time. "Ain't no ten minutes. We'll have to reschedule yours." He pulled the same shenanigans at Josh's apartment. Maybe he had a date with a roach, or a weight counselor, though I can't imagine how much weight he'd have to lose to lose that stupid look on his face. He was swiftly replaced with another Elmer Fudd lookalike. I guess they do chase varmints after all. Maybe Western is a remnant of the Fudd Dynasty, and the Fudds are actually real people, like Jesus and the Da Vinci Code. Just kidding, that's a fairytale. Jesus, not the Da Vinci Code.

Janet called me from work following what Josh says was a heated phone argument between her and Lesley, our building manager who is best known for not wearing shoes much. The Fudds couldn't get into Janet's place; eventually someone jumped through a window. I could hear Janet's neck vein throbbing through the phone. Lesley was on her Bluetooth talking about paying a mortuary $500 and finding a rabbi when Josh and I bundled Mrs Brown from #4 into my Oldsmobile to take her to dialysis since the senior citizen van was late. The van pulled up as we were pulling out. It took us five minutes to walk Mrs Brown from the car to the hospital lobby, and two hours to get over the sight of the dialysis room. Then I had a chocolate milkshake for breakfast at Tokyo 7-7. Those little old Japanese ladies really know their way around a grilled cheese sandwich.

Ran into E Reece walking the block pushing his brand new son, fresh out the baby factory. Jesse passed by in his A-Team van, which is looking better and better. Now Josh and I are at the Coffee Bean on Sepulveda and Palms waiting for the smell of cockroach holocaust to subside. A cashier just called a lady "sir". Come see us.

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