The thing that really irritates me about this guy is that he sits at a table, taps his knee vigorously shaking everyone's chips, and hums. Continuously. One long, annoying hum. He'll break long enough to mumble, "Unbelievable!" under his breath after losing a hand. Because there's nothing more unbelievable than losing your money in a casino. Somebody call Ripley's Believe It or Not.
You would think I'd be used to the crazies after two years of dealing to them and with them, but for some reason this man brings out the homicidal maniac in me. I don't talk ugly to him or anything that would get me fired, but whenever I see him, I imagine myself lifting the lid of my chip tray and beating him senseless with it.
It makes me realize I could never have a career in espionage. If I were caught by the other side all they'd have to do would be to flash that bright light in my face and have an interrogator hum at me. Beat me, cut off both my nipples, dip my head in frying grease. Nothing would get me to spill my guts quicker than hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...
|"No, seriously. I'll take the deep fryer. Just...make that bastard shut up!"|