I've been out of a job for quite some time now. You see, I've messed up every job I've ever had, and it's left quite a trail for interviewers to follow. I would just stop putting jobs down on my resume and applications, but I'm 38 and most interviewers don't beleive I've never had a job in my life. So I just figure someone will have to give me a chance eventually. I was looking through the paper the other day and saw an intriguing ad. It read, "Willing to hire someone with a lousy past." Needless to say I grabbed to phone and dialed it right away, 666-0666. Strange number, I have no idea where 666 area code is. The man on the other end picked up and told me to come to 666 Hanover St. right away, and then he hung up. He didn't ask me my name, he didn't ask me what I was calling for, in fact, he didn't say anything else besides that, not even a "hello". I figured I might as well go to 666 Hanover St. and see what this strange company was all about. Strange, someone must have an obsession with the number 6 at this company. When I got to the building, I was rather surprised at it's appearance. It was a one story box that I had never noticed before. I parked out front and walked in. I realized I had forgot to dress up, I was still wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but I didn't really care. I walked inside, and all that was there was a receptionist behind a desk, and an elevator door. Funny that there would be an elevator door in a one story building, I thought to myself. As soon as the receptionist saw me he said, "Go to the fourth floor." Confused, I told him, "I'm here about a position I saw in the paper." The receptionist pointed to the elevator and said, "The elevator is right that way." He was rather stern about it, so I figured I'd just go to the fourth floor. I got on the elevator and looked for the fourth floor button. There were 74 floors listed here. Impossible I thought, but I pushed 4 anyways to see what would happen. Immediately the elevator began going down. Clever, I thought. At the fourth floor, the elevators opened slowly, and I stepped into a darkly lit office. Everything was dark woods, cherry and maple mostly. A gigantice maple desk was directly in front of me with a man I could have sworn I saw in The Sopranos sitting behind it. He greeted me and asked me to sit as my eyes adjusted. "So, what's your name?" the man asked. At this point I was very intimidated, more so than any other interview I've been to. "uh . . . John Solomon" I replied very hesitant. I started fiddling with the bottom of my shirt, twisting it with my finger. The man wrote something on a pad of paper, then looked back up at me, straight into my eyes, and sribbled something else down. "Why do you think you'd be an asset at our company?" he asked me. I hate it when interviewers ask this question, and I especially hated it this time, because I didn't even know what the company was. I stumbled around with words for a while, trying to describe myself as a hard and dedicated worker, most likely not impressing the man at all. "What was your last job, and why did you leave it?" the man asked, as if he were just asking question, unconcerned with answers. But he kept scribbling stuff down on his pad. I figured at this point I wasn't going to get the job, so I told him the truth with no sugar coatings. "I was a salesman at Driger Ford, but I hit my manager in the face" I said. The interviewer looked intrigued. "Why did you do that" "Because he cut my pay." "Okay, why did he cut your pay?" "Because I fucked his daughter" "Well, that's probably against company policy at Driger, now isn't it? What else you got?" he said, grinning widely. At this point I didn't care, this guy was a little creepy, but somehow I felt more relaxed, so I continued. "I worked as a salesman for this tiny little office equipment company for a while, but they fired me because I hacked into the payroll to give myself a raise." He started laughing, "How much of raise did you give yourself?" "About 25 thousand a week more, it didn't take them long to catch on, but I cashed at least one check like that. I had to fake my own death to get out of that one." I started laughing. "And this other time, at a Radio Shack in Texas, I robbed the cash drawer while closing up. My manager didn't like that one, so I split it with him, and then laid all the blame on him." "Boy, you sound perfect for this job!" He said. I about fell out of my chair when he told me that. But I didn't have long to do so because I felt a sharp pain at the back of my head. I woke up in this hotel room this morning with none of my belongings. All that was in the room was a rifle with a note taped to it. The note read, "Kill the President"