Part 72: Going postal
Are you sure about this? Remember what I said about him getting disgruntled.
It's a risk I'm willing to take. Besides, there aren't many other jobs that'll give him good training with his machine gun.
More! More! Don't stop until they're all dead! You must consu- Holly, can you see who's at the door?
It's another flyer.
Dangit, I thought I told those people that my penis was large enough.
Oh. Well, that'll do, I guess. Can I trust you to buy actual groceries this time?
Swear on your mother's life? Because I will take it.
Yes! Jeez! You're acting as if I have a problem.
Alright then. Go to the shop and get me some goods. Good goods.
God damn it, Holly!
I can't help it! I try to buy real food, but that barrel of taffy just calls to me.
I guess we'll just have to make due with cramming Francis full of this junk and working him until he snaps.
Francis shot someone's dog.
A good time for a change of job, then!
He didn't actually kick the burglar, did he?
Nope. I think he just likes showing off.
Well, if he likes showing off so much, then he can do it in mortal combat.
The first match was against a British suezo. Its owner called me a gormless guttersnipe. That's not fair. I have plenty of gorm, damn it.
The limey one-eyed dick managed to dodge bullets.
But turnabout is fair play, and so Frankie teleported around the place.
...Until he got sick of doing that, and ran his fist through that should be the monster's heart. Gorm THAT, motherfucker.
Fun fact: Monsters don't want to fight a masked freak carrying a machine gun in one hand, and a suezo's heart in the other. Team Swoon goes up a rank.
But is he going to do that air guitar every time he wins a fight?
He goddamn well better.
All this civil service is entertaining, but I think we need more mining to get our audience back.
You know what, I changed my mind. Back to the post office!
Are you sure you want to put him in The Box? He's been doing so well up until now.
BOX! BOX! BOX! BOX! BOX! BOX! BOX!
All right, all right! Stop throwing a tantrum! I'll put him in The Box. You big crybaby.
Francis was very sorry.
Good enough. Now back to work. Rain nor sleet nor snow will keep me from working you to the brink of exhaustion.
As much as I hate to interrupt your torturing intelligent creatures into loving you, there's another official tournament this week.
Maaan, I don't have time to be making decisions. You know that.
Right. Of course. I'll go make another post on the internet.