Guarding the Dynamite

I think I actually have the worst job in the world. Basically, some evil scientist with lemon-yellow skin pays me by the hour to pace in front of a stack of dynamite, back and forward, back and forward. I have to appear menacing, in case his nemesis comes around. For the record, his nemesis is a bipedal bandicoot with orange fur and a pair of jeans. That’s ridiculous, and I’m a talking badger! For the record, that bandicoot has never come here, so I’ve been pacing around for nothing all this time.

I’ve been doing this job for ten years, and I’m sick of it! Tomorrow I’m booking an appointment with a career counsellor around Melbourne and getting out of this terrible gig. I want to work in law or something, so I need to know how I can get into such a career. I’d be happy to even be a lawyer’s assistant. Anything is better than walking and waiting for a crazy bandicoot to come around.

In fact, I’m going to stop pacing right now. I don’t want to do this job anymore, and nothing will convince me otherwise. Why would I give notice or anything? I’m just going to stop right now. I’ll still get career change advice. Melbourne will have plenty of opportunities for me, though. Even if my boss comes around and fires me on the spot, I’m sure I’ll be able to find something perfect for my skill set.

I’m going to sit down for the first time in ten years and finish this blog post. Oh, what’s that? I can see something up ahead. A strange orange creature, spinning boxes, accompanied by a floating tiki mask. And he’s wearing… jeans! Oh, no, it’s Smash Fox, the nemesis of my boss! Of course, I sit on the job and that’s when he arrives. Alright, I’ve been preparing for this moment my whole life. I’m going to stop Smash Fox from advancing. Maybe I’ll get a promotion for my efforts. I won’t have to quit my job if I become head henchman! Wish me luck.