A recent conversation between myself and my boss at the call center I have been working at night.
Boss: What the fuck is that noise Elvis?!
Me: That’s the newest record from Sacramento’s So Stressed. Do you like it?
Boss: Are you kidding me? Fuck no! It sounds like a bunch of goddamn noise!
Me: Well, it is noise punk sir. Maybe you started off hearing the wrong track. Let me play “A Fisherman’s Feast” for you. It is rather melodic and enjoyable. But yea, you do have to enjoy stuff that squeals and yells at ya.
Boss: Look Elvis, your neighbors have been complaining about the sounds coming out of this cubicle. How can they sell fake novelty vomit if they have aggressive sounds around them at all hours of the night?
Me: Ok, how about “Little TV?” This is what emocore used to be before a bunch of fashion-focused assholes ruined that shit.
Boss: No, I hate that too. This is your last warning Elvis. Turn off the music, or you’re fired.
Me: If you fire me, I will come back and burn down this entire office while I sodomize you with a replica of Voltaire’s cock. Trust me, I have been alive a long time now, I have one. This record is great, and if you make me turn it off, your ass will burn like the French Royal family when I am done with you.
Boss:….carry on Elvis.
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