The IBS Jesus Franchise

PATRICK OWNS THE PARK

My business partners and I went to take a stockbrokers trip across the country to this place called “City,” located in rural California. While the ride was pleasant, I had to share my row of seats with him. Paul Allen was giving me side-eye glances on the plane. I think he’s still trying to gloat about his superior business card skills from our last meeting.

The moment I landed in this city I felt like I was under some sort of spell. There were fewer human beings than I had wanted to see. It was overwhelming, to say the least. But I would never truly express how I felt.

When I arrived at the airport and was buying a black coffee, black because it is a great conversation starter and an opportunity to collect personality traits, my card was declined. To my great dismay, I could no longer purchase anything in this state. The money earned from the stocks of my company was useless.

I was about to give up and return to New York when I saw an advertisement about a park needing a hot dog salesman. It would pay $1500 if I accept to take on this stand for the entire week.

The stockholders meeting will have to wait.

“Patrick, where are you going?” Paul Allen asked. “Don’t you know that we–”

“Yes, but I believe it is important to the company if I leave for now. Our money is on the line.” I had to get out of there. I couldn’t let him know that my money was useless here.

I made my own way over to the Park, I walked the paths to get to the main house. I was stunned at how clean the park was, for somewhere in the West Coast.

Benson was on this disgusting plane full of hideous troglodytes, he too was an immigrant from the old world, and his park destroyed by fat mama left nothing for him "ugh! Another piss?!" Benson gets up to go to the airplane big boy potty "come on come onnnn! There. Done." Suddenly a dark round figure pops out of the dark shadow-filled room with a bag in hand "Jolly bad show!"...frantic breathing and struggling, then…silence. Pops completed his mission for Paul Allen.
…

"Mannn… we've been sitting out here all day, why is it our job to catch it?!" Rigby screams and kicks over his chair "Calm down dude, it's just a little bug bear, what's wrong scared of a bug bear Rigby?" "Ugh! No way, I just want my paycheck now! I have a really cute date planned with my really cute gf from Canada who goes to another school so you haven't met her, she's Eileen 2.0!"

The blue bird crosses his arms and shakes his head "Just say you're going to buy 'The king's wrath 2 return of the blood throne/gun clip mega explosion collectors edition IV, death of the King' like everyone else dude." Suddenly a loud roar comes from the janitorial office, the duo spring into action grabbing the nets and proton packs Skipps gave them. "Ugh dude! Why don't we just work at the other park, they do bimonthly payment options AND zaza at the function! And we're stuck here catching this dumb bug bear that escaped the zoo…" "come on dude stop being a chicken and just open the door…I DARE YOU…"

Rigby sighed, opening the door, after going through all the trouble of clapping the Bug Bear’s cheeks, finding a well-dressed man with a smile on his face.

“Hello, are you Benson? I saw your ad about the hot dog stand opportunity and–”

“Dude you actually want that job? Get a load of this sucker. He aint got no zaza.” Rigby clenched his butt cheeks together.

“I am not sure what this zaza is, but trust me when I say that your park is, well, extraordinary. It would be a shame for the little children and local piano playing wizards to be left hungry, especially on a hot summer day.”

"Ew that freak is back?” Rigby groaned, thinking about how long that stanky ass bitch took to piss on that bush. Practically flooded the damn thing. “Well if you want to deal with him go for it, nobody else wants this 15 an hour job."