At work today I started a gang. The MAC's.
So far its me and the fax machine. We represent.
If you cross us we'll give you a papercut thrashing you won't forget. I'm talking all over the body, bro. Drop white-out in your eyeballs. Force you to type a long document until you have carpal tunnel. You say something I don't like, you get an invoice. Down your throat. Oh you're still talking? Hold on while I grab my Swingline. This is serious shit mother fucker.
We'll switch your Non-Toxic Tacky Finger with Toxic Tacky Finger. It'll be hard to make a photocopy when theres a jam. A 'Your Right Arm' Jam. I'll make you eat paperclips until you puke out a coat hanger. And we won't stop at you. We'll send unusual email attachments to your family. I'll have the fax machine call your house and make those loud annoying noises when your daughter picks up. And that picture of your family you keep on top of your monitor? Ruined by pink highlighter.
It's a gang motherfucker, a gang. MAC's for life.
If you want in just give me a call. 1-800-266-6996