Here's what her email said:
"FOR YOUR SINCERE BUT UNFRUITFUL SACRIFICES, I PRESSURIZED THE INFLUENTIAL WOMAN TO CONCEDE SOME AMOUNT AS COMPENSATION TO YOU, FOR THE RESOURCE THAT YOU IMPLUNGED EVEN YOUR TIME AND INCONVENIENCES."
Now I've pressurized many an influential woman in my day, and for the most part they don't like it and ask you why you are squeezing their calves and making grunting noises when all they really wanted was for you to pull their car around. But the joke is always on them because I TOTALLY don't even work there!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!! I'm unemployed, you prudish skank! And your calves could totally be more supple! And then I run away and when the cops show up, I tell them it was my twin brother. But then Mom comes to the door to find out who's knocking at this ungodly hour and "accidentally" lets it slip that I don't have a twin and wants to know why I am wearing a valet jacket without any pants. And then I get arrested. I'm so sick of being hassled by the man!
Wait...where am I?
The author has also invented an amazing word in "Implunged". It's the perfect fake word. It could mean ANYTHING. So when I go to court, when asked how I plead I will say "Your honor! I demand to have my record implunged!" and then all the reporters will stand up and start asking questions and running to phone booths even though they all have cell phones now, so why would there be phone booths, but whatever, I'm not a lawyer. And then the judge will bang his hammer** on the bench and start shouting "Order! Order!" and I'll make a joke about "I don't even want any Chinese Food, so how can I order?" and then the whole courtroom will crack up, even the uptight woman with the gummy calves and the judge will say "Case Dismissed!" as he wipes the tears of laughter from his eyes.
These unemployed days aren't getting any shorter. Just for the record. I implunge you to bear with me.
*GROW_MOR_COX is a smelling salt you rub on your genitals while masturbating. Or so I'm told by my network of spies and not by what the package says as I read it.
** I totally know it's called a "gavel" but in this post I make the rules. It's how I exert a modicum of control over my life as it founders against the sandbar of hopelessness after a rudderless traversing of the black ocean of despair. Wait... how long are these cat anti-depressants good for anyway(s)?
Hattori Hanzo: There. Feel better?
Hattori Hanzo: Good. Now can we please put some clothes on and stop crying.
Kurt: Okay. Will you make me a sandwich?
Hattori Hanzo: Sure.