The Answering Machine of Phil Blount, BA.
(beep)
Phil, it’s Jason McDermott. Listen, I don’t know what all those bitches…I mean, “friends” you live with told you, but it’s time for you to start thinking about who’s gonna take you to the top. And it’s not gonna be your big-time, college-graduate friends or that advertising guy that made you his personal slave…I mean, “assistant.” Look, your week of taking his shit is over; you’re a college graduate, buddy, and a college graduate is just what I need. Leave those losers in the dust, and join up with Team McDermott. Are you ready to hike up your skirt and kick off your high heels? Are you ready to make yourself some fuckin’ money? I told you about the company already. I’ve got five professionals going to every frat house in America. You saw my gold Tauruses on campus last year, right? Of course you did, they’re all over the fuckin’ place. I’m already a millionaire many times over. goldbookmarkinternational.com. And I know I told you about the patent already. Yeah, that’s right. Gold ink, motherfucker. I patented that shit. But that was only a first step, Phil. You know, someone once said, “Success is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.” That’s why I need you. I don’t expect big ideas. I just need someone with a good credit rating to help me take my message to the world. Have you ever heard of Sherlock Holmes? Sir Arthur Hoyle, millions of copies in print. Well, Holmes had this sidekick named Watson. Holmes was the genius, but without Watson, Holmes couldn’t have solved the crimes. You see where I’m going with this? Here’s a hint: I’m like Holmes. You’re gonna be my fuckin’ Watson, buddy.
(beep)
Phil, Jason. Look, I already patented the gold ink and now I’m on my way to patenting the silver ink. That’s right. We’re doing silver bookmarks now, baby. I can’t even fathom the millions I’m gonna make from this shit. Are you ready to make yourself some fuckin’ money? You better be, ‘cause there’s hundreds of applicants waiting for that position I offered you. I’m only gonna ask you once.
(beep)
Phil, me. Look- gold bookmarks. It’s the future. I’m telling you. Wall Street’s all over this shit. And now with the silver bookmarks and the bronze ink I’m waiting on the patent for, I’m planning to increase my fleet of Tauruses—you know, the gold ones at every college campus in America—to include silver Tauruses, and eventually, assuming the bronze ink patent goes through, bronze Tauruses. I need people to drive the fuckin’ silver Tauruses. You drive, right?
(beep)
Hey Phil. It’s me again. Jason McDermott. You know, when I first met you in line at that Burger King, I knew it was destiny. I don’t know if you believe in a higher power or in fate, but if that wasn’t fate I don’t know what is. We were both wearing black sneakers—remember?—and we had both just ordered a chicken sandwich meal. The only difference was you ordered a Diet Coke and I got a Dr. Pepper. Large. Someday, two or three years from now at the most, my biographer’s going to write about that moment. It’s just one of those feelings I get. Kinda like when I first got the idea for gold ink. Hey, I gotta run to an investors’ meeting, but I’ll talk to you soon, okay?
(beep)
Phil, Jason. We are on the verge of success. You know it. I know it. All I need from you is a thousand dollars. Sure, it might seem like a lot, but if you want to be the vice president of goldbookmarkinternational.com and buy a mansion in Beverly Hills and drive a gold Ferrari and have all the bitches in the rap videos, you gotta make some sacrifices. In case you haven’t heard, “Money doesn’t grow on trees.” I forget who it was that said that. Sherlock Holmes, I think. Anyway, I’m a very busy man, so get back to me ASAP.
(beep)
I really don’t appreciate your not returning my messages, Phil. I’m offering you the chance of a lifetime here! “If you don’t believe, you won’t achieve.” Just remember that. This is Jason McDermott by the way.
(beep)
Phil, you little bitch. Here’s a fuckin’ reality check: college grads are a dime a dozen, asshole. Guess what. I offered you the vice presidency because of how pathetic you looked at that Burger King. Period. Black sneakers? Chicken sandwich? You call that a life? When I’m on a hydrofoil with Fat Joe in Miami and you’re still sitting on your ass in that fancy-schmancy ad agency with all of those broke people with their fancy-schmancy fuckin’ college degrees, you’re gonna be sorry. I could have gone to college too, you know, but I was too busy achieving personal fuckin’ excellence in the fuckin’ real world. What the fuck is your problem?!
(beep)
Phil, it’s Jason McDermott again. Disregard my last message—I had a really bad headache and couldn’t find my aspirin. Look, I know how all this probably looks. And you know what? I’m not gonna lie to you. Okay, so I don’t have a workshop in England where Englishmen produce the bookmarks by hand. You’re right if you thought that wasn’t true. Can’t put anything past you, huh? That’s why you’d make a perfect vice president. Anyway, you remember that printer you saw me holding in that Burger King—the one I salvaged from a pile of garbage on a street corner earlier that morning? Well, all the printing capabilities we need are right there on that sweet, little InkJet. Of course, I’ve outfitted it with a specially modified gold ink cartridge and everything with some parts I got from a buddy of mine at NASA. The National Air—you know, the space ship place. You’ve probably heard about it on TV? Look, I’m sorry I made that stuff up about the Englishmen, but it was a rough day. I wasn’t myself. See right before we met, I got into this argument with Bill Gates, the president of Microsoft. I was talking to him on my cellular phone—don’t worry, you’ll get one of those soon. Anyway, he borrowed my butler, Fonsworth, and hasn’t returned him yet. It’s been almost two weeks and my estate’s gone to pieces! Well, I just thought you deserved to know the truth. But the other stuff, the stuff about me being nominated for the Nobel Prize for business? I've got a Bible out here and I'm putting my hand on it, I'm swearing to you, on my mother's fresh grave, that is true.
(beep)
<< Home