Q: What is your first impression of the narrator?

A: Well, he's tall. I like that. And he's good looking. I am comfortable enough in my sexuality to be able to compliment another man on his appearance. He knows what he's talking about. He has something to say about every slide. That's no easy thing. He's presentable,  well dressed and clean. There are no crumbs on that man's clothes. As someone who always has crumbs on his clothes I admire someone who does not. I have no idea how he does it. He must wrap himself in a sheet of plastic before meals, or be a wizard or something. Perhaps he's on one of those all-soup diets. That would explain the lack of crumbs. Although if he did only eat soup he'd have stains on his tie, and his shirt, and his coat, and his hands. Trust me, I know. I tried an all-tomato-soup diet for a few weeks in my 30's.  I got soup everywhere. After a few days, my co-workers called the cops. They thought I was murdering co-eds in my RV. Can you imagine? The cops were pretty embarrassed once they realized it was only tomato soup. It was an awkward situation for all involved, but it did allow me to murder co-eds in my RV for several years without fear of detection. But I digress.

Q: What is the cost of getting rid of the land mines?

A: Let's see here. You have 40 mines on three acres, all armed.

Right, 39 mines. How could I forget? This is awkward. Have they been able to find your wife's wedding ring? Or her hand? Or any identifiable part of her.

No, huh. Well, don't give up hope.

Anyway, 39 mines over three acres. When do you want them out?

Immediately. I can do immediately. But it's gonna cost you.

39 mines over three acres, taken out immediately ... I assume you want them disarmed and moved off site?

You don't have to shout, sir.

Okay, I'm going to have to call in some favors and bring in some extra staff, but I can get this done today. All it's going to cost you is $859 per mine. That's less than half what I charged you to put them in.

By the way, payment is due on the mine installation. Don't insult my intelligence and tell me your wife dealt with the money and had it all on her at the time of her tragic explosion. I've heard that one enough times. This isn't my first day in the land mine business. It's my third.

Q: Does credit union verify funds on a check via phone?

A: As a high end retailer of sharks, barracudas, mer-men and other dangerous and exotic creatures of the sea, we must protect ourselves from entering into an agreement with unsavory individuals who might want to use these creatures for non-ornamental reasons, or who simply might not be able to afford the cost of the care and maintenance. While most people would love to own a killer shark or a an army of piranhas, not everyone can.

Should these beautiful creatures be misused in any way, in the staging of elaborate undersea heists, plots for world domination, that sort of thing, or merely abandoned, set loose in a public swimming pool once their owner starts getting his bills from the remote tribes who sold him villagers for food, the blame will not fall on the customer, I can assure you. No, the blame will fall on the good people of Poseidon Specialties.

To protect the company, employees must follow a few safeguards. We can't just hand one of our prized beasts over to everyone who wanders in off the street. No, first we assess the customer and answer a checklist of questions we memorized during training.

Questions like: Is the customer attempting to pay by check? Has the customer repeatedly asked about our check verification process? Is the customer's check written on a slice of pizza? Are there three or more  words misspelled on the pizza-check?  Has the customer asked which animal will best dispose of a dead body? Has the customer mentioned revenge as a motive for his interest in one of our creatures? Is the customer covered in blood? Does the blood appear to belong to someone else? Is the customer crying? Has the customer mentioned his experience making chum from scratch? Has the customer ended any statements with a sinister laugh? Has the customer inquired about our return policy? And so on. You get the picture.

A "Yes" to three or more of these questions, and I cannot make the sale.  Five or more and I'm required to call the police. Eight or more and I press this button here, opening the trap door beneath your feet, sending you into the Great White Shark Tank.

You're a "Yes" to fourteen questions.

Fourteen.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do here. I never read that far in the employee handbook.

Q: How do you get the princess skirt in club penguin?

A: I don't understand why you want to spend all that time getting a fake princess skirt in a video game when you have a dozen real princess skirts hanging in your closet. Don't you like them anymore? Are they not good enough for you?

What's the matter, princess? Why are you crying?

Look, if you don't want to wear the skirts or get called "princess" anymore, I understand. You're a big girl now, and that's a completely logical wish. But maybe you should have thought of that while you were mincing around in the pocket and throwing those interceptions in State Quarterfinals. Daddy lost a lot of money on that game. Do you understand? Do you see what I'm saying?

Good.

How about we make a little deal? I'll keep calling your princess and buying you skirts and making you play children's games and you'll do it.

How does that sound? Now, before you answer, you should realize that you have no other options.

Great. I'm glad we had this chance to talk.

Now, go put on your favorite skirt and go play in the yard. Daddy sold some tickets.

Q: How do you check the brakes on a Toyota Tacoma?

A: You could crawl underneath with a flashlight and look for yourself, or get that truck on a lift and bring over a friend and tap and poke and hope you find something, or you could just trust the guy who worked on the car and tells you that your brakes are fine.

Your brakes are fine. I know what I'm talking about. I know how important a reliable set of brakes are to a guy like you, with a good job and a nice home and a beautiful family and a lovely, lovely wife. The last thing you need is to find yourself alone on a dark highway, your lovely, lovely wife waiting at home, and you see a deer or a homeless person or a pile of old furniture blocking the road, forcing you to slam on your brakes. Only your brakes don't work and you've got a windshield full of deer or shattered office furniture, furniture that appears to have been pre-scored and sharpened so it's more like a wall of spears. And now you're dead and your wife, who by the way is very lovely, you are a lucky man, she's all alone and grieving and, somehow her grief has only made her lovelier, and she's looking for answers - "How could this have happened? Was there something wrong with the breaks or was it driver error?" - and she's worried about her future - "Who will provide for me and my family?" She turns to a man who can answer both questions, a man who had recently seen her husband's brakes and knows that nothing is wrong with them, a man who has a good steady job, a job that will pay the bills. Someone who will hold her tell her that her husband probably wanted to die, at least didn't deserve to live if he was willing to leave her at home while he went joyriding on the dark roads above the reservoir. Someone who will love her like she's never been loved before. Someone who will always care for her and never leave her fate or the fate of her family up to some stranger because he never learned how to do the simplest tasks with his hands.

This is all hypothetical of course. Your brakes are fine. Have a great weekend.

Hey, if you're ever in the mood for a relaxing drive late at night, try those dark roads above the reservoir. They are  particularly beautiful at 10:45. Go real fast. It's worth it.