I Don't Want To Relocate Him, I Want To Kill Him!

*RingRing*
"Good afternoon, Acme Pest Elimination. This is Nancy. How may I help you today?"

Me: Yes I need you to kill something that's bothering me. It's a total pest. It's Matt. I need you to kill Matt. He's the one that's pestering me.

Nancy: Okay, how many rats do you think are in the infestation? Seven? Twelve? Thirteen? More than thirteen?

Me: I didn't say rats. I said Matt.

Nancy: ...Please tell me Matt is a nickname you've given one of the rats.

Me: He could be a rat. If he were a rat, he'd be the biggest, ugliest, tick-ridden rat that ever ratted. He'd be king of the rats. Time for the king to die. So? Can you kill him or can't you? And how much is this going to cost because as much as I want to kill him, I don't want to spend that much money on his death. Maybe on the disposal of his corpse, but definitely not on his death. Anyone can shoot some one and dump his body in the woods, but it takes some real skill to chop off the limbs and dump it in an acid bath...

Nancy: Click.

Me: Nancy? Did you just say click? I could've sworn we were going some where with this...galactic cunt....

*RingRing* "Edmonton Exterminators. This is Tim."

Me: Hello Tim. Do you know Nancy at Acme Pest? She's a huge bitch. Galactic cunt. What crawled up her ass and died? The last time I dealt with a bitch that nasty was when that crazy lady started beating me with an umbrella for stealing her thoughts. I wasn't stealing her thoughts. I was just borrowing them until mine came back.

Tim: Is there a point to this call?

Me: Well, Tim, I need something done for me. What do you charge for killing Matts? Does it depend on the size or on how hard it is to kill it? Does the price go up if he runs into the woods and escapes on a hovercraft? Do you have hovercraft insurance?

Tim: Rats? We don't have rats here in Alberta. Bats maybe, but no rats.

Me: Nancy said there were rats.

Tim: Who the hell is Nancy?

Me: Forget about Nancy. Nancy's dead. Nancy's gone. She's dead and gone. This is about Matt now. Can you get rid of Matt for me?

Tim: Matt who? What the hell are you talking about? We exterminate termites and other insects. Are you talking about a person?

Me: I wouldn't call him a person. He's a giant walking boob. He's just a blob of fat, covered in skin and hair. His nose is the nipple and it keeps leaking. I want to break his nose like a frozen nipple. He's just a big cancerous tit and I want him chopped off.

Tim: Don't call here ever again ranting about tits.

Me: Or what? You'll tell Nancy what I said about her? Good. I hate Nancy and her shitty hair cut. Does she cut it herself or something? That's like a five-dollar haircut. I could get a better haircut from a thumbless, blind drunk down on the corner.

Tim: Whacko.

Me: NANCY LOVER!!

*RingRing* "Maritime Pest Control. How may I direct your call?"

Me: Shit. Did I just call the Maritimes? I have a shitty long-distance plan and this could cost me. At least tell me this is the good part of the Maritimes. Do you have clams there? I ate some bad clams once. I woke up three days later on a bus to Las Vegas with some chick named Ramona. What a nightmare THAT was. It could have been the clams. Or it could have been the huge joint I smoked before I ate them. Either way, is this the Maritimes or not?

Mystery Person: No, sir. We're just called Maritime Pest Control.

Me: So you kill manatees and shit? Like if a manatee had moved in next door and was playing his Jay Z CDs all night, you'd kill him and dump his body in the lake? I'm assuming manatees float. Do you tie rocks to them like you would a bag of dead puppies?

Mystery Person: I don't think manatees live on land, sir.

Me: Who do you keep calling sir? Do I sound like a knight to you? Like I'm on some crusade? Well I am on a crusade. If you want to help my crusade, I need to talk to some one about exterminating a large mammal that's been lurking around my place of business.

Mystery Person: I'm not sure what we can do about large mammals, but I'll see who I can get to answer you question.

Me: Sure thing. Take all the time in the world. I'm only a man on a crusade here.

On Hold Music: ...Wasted away again in Margaritaville, Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt. Some people claim that there's a woman to blame, But I know it's nobody's fault...

"Hello this is Ross."

Me: Ross do you ever confuse Jimmy Buffet with Warren Buffet? Sometimes I do. It's my secret shame. Even more shameful than eating that handful of cat litter when I was nine.

Ross: One's rich. One's a scumbag. Not hard to tell the difference.

Me: Would you rather live on the beach and right terrible songs or live in a mansion and have people wash your ass for you?

Ross: What does this have to do with exterminating a large mammal?

Me: Right. Okay. I need to have a large ape-like creature killed before it kills me or I kill it with my bare hands and an array of plastic spoons. Have you ever scooped out another man's eye with a plastic spoon, Ross?

Ross: Can't say I have. I don't think we...wait...Ape? Are you talking about Bigfoot?

Me: His feet are pretty big. Does Bigfoot have a really bad fat-guy goatee? Walk around wearing sweaty t-shirts? Eat all your chips? Have really dumb ears and talks to cats? Strange cats?

Ross: I've never seen Bigfoot.

Me: What about the Sasquatch?

Ross: No. They're the same.

Me: No they're not. One's Bigfoot, the other is Sasquatch. One eats berries and twigs and the other rips your face off and replaces it with a paste of honey, leaves and your own lungs.

Ross: I'm not here to debate about Bigfoot. I'm here to answer real questions about real pest problems. I'm hanging up if this conversation doesn't get to a point and fast.

Me: Hmm. Is Bill or Joe there?

Ross: Bill's here. Joe doesn't work here anymore. How do you know Bill?

Me: That's between Bill, me and the Vietnamese prostitute. And maybe the goat. I really don't know how much the goat remembers since he was drugged the entire time. Tell Bill I hope that thing with his ass and that crazy rash works out okay. Who would have known it could spread THAT fast.

Ross: Okay? Um, if you're having a problem with Bigfoot, you should try calling the wildlife officer. Or a mental hospital. Do you live near a park or something? Is that why you think you see Bigfoot.

Me: I don't think I see Bigfoot. I work with Bigfoot. He sits next to me and blows his nose all night like a foghorn. Frankly, I don't think any ships are going to crash into our office anytime soon but if they are we're sure as fuck are safe.

Ross: ...I'll tell Bill you said hi.

Me: Fuck Bill. I hate that asshole and his anal warts. He's named them all, you know. The little one is named Ross Junior. And the big one is named Ross Senior. What the hell did you ever do to Bill, Ross? Did you shit on his car? Put worms in his coffee? Huh? Huh? What?

Ross: Clicky-click

*RingRing* "Alberta Fish and Game Association. This is Carl. How can I help you?"

Me: Yes, I need to get rid of a giant, naked ape that keeps impeding my progress. He drives a real shitty car. I don't know shit about cars other than his is big, shitty and leaks oil all over the place. Does that narrow it down? Big, shitty human in a big, shitty car?

Carl: We can't relocate humans, sir.

Me: I don't want to relocate him. I want to kill the motherfucker.

Carl: I'm hanging up now.

Me: Fuck you, Carl. You have sex with dogs.