the Contract
Have I got a deal for you! I can tell by that look in your eye that you're a bit confused by the state of the world today. Well rest assured pal, it aint just you. Hell its pretty freaking obvious, you can see it in everyone's eyes as they zip around like drones hyper focused on their tiny worlds. Hoping and praying that the delicate web of life that supports their tenuous existence wont come crashing down.
Stress with a capitol "S" My Friend, STRESS! Delicious stress. You can feel it in the air. To me its like catching snow flakes on your tongue. It tastes a bit like copper to be honest.
Speaking of "honest" lets get back to that stellar deal I was getting ready to offer you. You see Slick... May I call you Slick? Grand! Well, Slick, as it just so happily happenstance happens, I got just the cure for what ails ya. Super easy-peasy-Nacho-Cheezy! It's a QwikFix with a pinch of grind.
Are you ready? Its called a "Ladder Pulling Contract", pretty standard contract really. Its a low cost investment with a high yield return. It works like this; I give you a tiny sliver of my infinite financial wisdom which you then parlay into building your first ladder. You wanna know what's waiting for you at the top of that ladder? That's right Champ! It's a slightly better standard of living.
You smell that, Champ! It's the smell of marginally less urine and fecal matter. But wait; there's more. If you drop your bloody Hancock on the line of this document that just magically manifests before your eyes in a ball of green flame. GREEN FLAME! Totally normal stuff. If you would just sign on that line that looks suspiciously like a mass of wriggling worms , squirming, like a hypnotic fun-time acid trip in anticipation of giving you the life you so richly deserve!
Look here Champ, with your signature there, the returns could be limitless! Well heck in a hand-basket, I betcha you'll fly right by the pit of arm pit stench right up to a level of living where all you smell are those weird plug ins you find at your deranged elderly hoarder aunts tiny house.
Now before you open that rubbery gape hole in your face and say "Wow, that sure sounds like the greatest deal anyone could ever ask for....but whats the catch? I reply; The catch is this; each new ladder you climb must be pulled up behind you to guarantee no one can follow you and then you will gain more of my bits of knowledge and your continued success as you level down....*UP-se-doodles!, I mean UP. As you level up. And the best part, Buttercup you can come off looking like a real magnanimous guy. You can shower the unwashed masses with gifts and charity till your heart bleeds content and those rubes will lap it up and say "That buttercup sure is a real swell fella. In fact I love buttercup so much I will defend him until my last dying breath!" Pretty neat huh? like I always say "You cant have enough psychotically devoted zealots around.
But under no circumstances, and I cant stress this enough, Never and I mean NEVER reveal even this slightest shred of knowledge of the contract or its workings to any soul living or dead. You do that Buttercup and you will be standing tall before the man and he will winnow your soul to husk like so much chaff on the wind!
Bah, I'm just kidding, Chump! It wont be like that. You wont actually be standing. The rest is true but don't let that bother you. Its totally not gonna happen to you. Not you, whatever your name is. You're obviously special, unique, like a snowflake. A stressed out cloud of delicious coppery snowflakes.
Believe, you, me when you get up on top of that heap, built on the shattered spines of exploited wage slaves, you will look out the rose colored glass window of your gleaming palatial estate, out past the shuttered strip malls and crime riddled shanty town riots, past the failing proprietary mega agri-corp crops and unmonitored super fund sites and think to yourself "You finally made it, you finally got what you deserved." and all you had to do was sign a teeny weeny scrap of tanned human skin....I mean PAPER, Its definitely paper.
So, tough guy, wudda-you-say? Look, it may sound too good to be true but the benny's will fit like a glove. All you have to do is sign on the dotted line and as long as you live you shall never whisper a shred of advice to anyone about how to rise above the filth and dregs of humanity. If you have the strength to man up and keep your trap clapped shut then your future is as good as gold.
Here take this pen that is really my finger just ripped from my hand. There you go...* OOH yeah, Owchies! Sorry about that. Those tendrils are needed to tap the blood directly from your veins. The pen needs ink after all. The reason there are so many, 138 to be exact, digging through the muscles in your hands is to ensure a quality signature . We cant have you bait and switching someone else's name. Someone tricked me with that once. Then, 50 years later WW2 broke out and my whoopsie turned to a win. Not only that, I even wound up getting a big promotion for it. Finally, no more playing Mr Vomit Monster in the nightmares of children with terminal cancer for this guy. BORSVILLE! I tell ya, tough guy, I got lucky with that one
Speaking of luck, it looks like yours is about to change. Ill take my pen back. Thank you for your signature! Well, sucker, its been a pleasure doing business with you. I look forward to seeing you at the company Anti-Christmas party this year. I bid you adieu. Snap, Crackle, Poof!
