idiotprufs

Read by four out five drunken monkeys–written by the fifth.

Archive for the tag “Chimpanzee”

A Bad Job Interview and Ungulates.

He likes to size up new employees with a long hard stare.
(image source: theitcrowd.wikia.com)

He stares at you with an unwavering gaze as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. The seconds grow into minutes. The minutes grow into…well, slightly more minutes, as his unwavering gaze intensifies into a penetrating glare.

Beads of sweat well on your forehead.

The faint buzz of the flourescent lighting above you is the only sound in the room.

He picks up the phone and begins to dial, never averting his steely eyes from yours. He suddenly stops dialing and slams the receiver back into the cradle.

You flinch, beads of sweat break and run down the side of your face.

He sits back and crosses his hands, he seems to relax. You relax a little.

He then suddenly lurches forward and yells at you in a booming voice, “ungulates.”

Your brain frantically searches for the proper response. “What?” Is the best that your brain can do.

“Ungulate, it roughly means hoofed animals or being hoofed,” he explains.

“I know what an ungulate is,” you respond defensively.

“Then why did you seem so perplexed by the word?” He demands.

“I don’t know. I guess I was just startled,” you answer.

“Do many words startle you so easily?”

“I don’t think I startle that easily,” again you respond defensively.

“Really? The word ungulate seemed to make you wet yourself. What other words give you a start?”

“I’m not afraid of any words,” you tell him, feeling ridiculous.

“So it’s just ungulates that you hate. That’s a problem.”

“I don’t hate ungulates,” you reply, feeling a sense of desperation although you’re not certain why.

“I love ungulates,” he tells you with conviction. “My father loved ungulates. My father’s father loved ungulates…His father didn’t care for them, something about being kicked in the side of the head.” He then pauses for several moments, staring into the distance in a reflective manner, before continuing with renewed vigor. “But his father really loved ungulates. I don’t think that I could deal with a person who didn’t love ungulates.”

“I love ungulates too,” you tell him latching on to his enthusiasm.

“Very well,” he says as he eyes you with suspicion, “what is the best type of ungulate?”

It’s at this point, you realise that you have never once in your life stopped to consider the qualities of ungulates. “The zebra,” you answer apprehensively.

“Are you currently high on crystal-meth?” The interviewer demands.

“Why. Is that the wrong answer?”

“No. Zebra is the proper answer, you just seem very skittish.”

“I just didn’t think there’d be so many questions about ungulates for this type of job?” You tell him.

“You are absolutely correct. Let’s get on with a proper interview shall we.” You nod in agreement, glad to be getting on with it. “So, why do want to be a proctologist; do you enjoy sticking your finger up other men’s butts?”

“What? No. I don’t want to be a proctologist.”

“Well then why are you here?” He asks you accusingly.

“This is an accounting firm,” you spit the words at him.

He shuffles through some of the papers on his desk, reads through a few of them thoroughly, shuffles through a few more, then looks up at you. “You’re right, this is an accounting firm. How silly of me. We almost never have cause to stick our fingers up other men’s butts. Except on Thursdays, there’s quite a lot of it on Thursdays, but other than that, almost never.”

“Okay…I guess.”

“I suppose you’re well equipped at adding and subtracting numbers, because that’s the type of thing we’re looking for in a proc…I mean accountant.”

“Yes. I’m very good at math,” you assure him.

“Quickly. What’s 6+5-2 equal?” He snaps at you.

“That would of course be nine,” you reply confidently.

He stares at you for a moment. He then pulls a small calculator from his desk drawer and punches several buttons. “Amazing. That is absolutely correct, and you didn’t need an adding machine, an abacus, or even your fingers. You just did it right in your head.”

“It was really just a child’s question,” you tell him modestly.

“Nonsense. You are brilliant. When can you start?”

“I can start immediately.”

“There’s just one little thing: what is your opinion on diseased chimpanzees?”

“I don’t think I have an opinion on diseased chimpanzees,” you tell him with uncertainty.

“Don’t be silly, everyone has an opinion on diseased chimpanzees.”

“Really?” You seem doubtful. “What’s your opinion on diseased chimpanzees?”

“I think they’re smug,” he tells you with a tinge of contempt in his voice.

“Why is it relevent?”

“All of our employees share a desk with a diseased chimpanzee.”

“Why in the world is that?”

“It seems we were doing a job for a research lab, and misplaced a few million dollars of theirs. Now we have to house some of their less than successful projects.”

“You misplaced a few million dollars,” you ask in total disbelief.

“Look,” he replies angrily, “not everyone is as brilliant at math as you are. Listen, getting along with a diseased chimpanzee as a desk mate is really very simple: don’t make eye contact, don’t make any sudden movements, don’t ever use his stapler, don’t let him use his stapler to staple documents to your forehead; they will do that, and if he hurls his feces at you, dont hurl yours back.”

“Do you honestly think, I need to be told not to hurl my feces in the workplace?”

“There have been incidents.”

“This is crazy. I don’t want to work here. I don’t want to work for you, and certainly don’t want to work with a diseased chimpanzee. I’m outta here.” You storm out in a huff.

“And he wanted to be a proctologist; he doesn’t possess the temperament,” the interviewer mumbles to himself, “and I would never allow him near my ungulates.”

The best type of ungulate.
image source: wpclipart.com

My Rejection Letter From Happy Fun Time Children’s Stories.

Dear Mr. Idiotprufs,

Here at Happy Fun Time Children’s Stories, we gain no greater satisfaction than when we create new and fresh children’s literature. So believe me when I express to you, we empathise with and appreciate your desire to write children’s stories. That being said, please stop it.

We believe that your talents lie in a genre away from children’s literature, very far away from children’s literature.

Take for example the first story you sent us, Little Timmy’s First Kite and the High Voltage Power Lines. A little boy’s first kite: good idea; a little boy’s first visit to the emergency room: not as good.

Similarly, your story, The Poorly Constructed and Precariously High Treehouse, starts out with a treehouse, a good subject for a children’s story, but ends with a full body cast, a bad subject for a children’s story.

And for the love of all that is good and merciful, please stop sending us stories that involve diseased chimpanzees. For your reference, here is list of topics unsuitable for children’s stories:

  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from the zoo.
  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from the circus.
  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from a research lab.
  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from a secret underground facility run by evil albino Nazis.
  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from a secret underground facility under Bill Gates home.
  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from a secret underground facility run by evil albino Nazis, under Bill Gates home.
  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from Martha Stewart’s house. (If Miss Stewart were to ever have a chimp, we are certain it would not be diseased.)
  • A diseased chimp that has escaped from a one eyed organ grinder.
  • A one eyed organ grinder.
  • Intestinal parasites.
  • Parasites.
  • Virtually any idea that has ever popped into your head.

In regards to your proposal for a series of books based on the ghost of mischievious monkey, that haunts children who won’t eat their vegetables: it’s not a good idea. That doesn’t even take into consideration the certain legal difficulties that would arise from your main character, Mysterious George.

We hope that you will heed our advice and take to heart the following suggestions:

  1. Seek professional help.
  2. Whatever medications that are certain to be prescibed, take them.
  3. Stay as far away from children’s literature as you possibly can.

Sincerely,

Happy Fun Time Children’s Stories

P.S. In retrospect, stay as far away from actual children as you can.

  

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