Once upon a time there was a man named Mr. J. J. J. J. J. J. This story is about him. K? K. One morning, Mr. J, yes, we're calling him that whether you like it or not, decided to buy a doughnut. He liked doughnuts. His favorite kind were chocolate covered chocolate ones. He always added some chocolate sprinkles from his chocolate fudge sundae to the top. He was, as you can probably tell, a chocoholic. His favorite food was... no. You guessed wrong. It was frisbees. Why on earth would you guess chocolate? SOME people just don't think strait. Anyway, if you guessed chicken soup, you were close enough. So... Mr. J waddled home, (yes, he was extremely fat), and there he met his pet chinchilla at the door. His pet chinchilla was hyperactive, as all chinchillas are, just in case you were wondering. He sat down on his comfy purple armchair, and read his daily newspaper while he drank a cup of coffee. (Yes, mocha. How did you know?) Anyway, he had just settled down when the doorbell rang. He picked up his fat legs and moved them to the door. He opened it . The woman at the door was tall and skinny. She was blonde, with long hair. Her face was set in a perfect smile. Until the door was answered. Mr. J raised his flabby 15,000 chins. His black, thick un-washed hair didn't move when he did. He looked up two feet to see her.
"How... can... I... help... you?" he said very slowly, his voice flat, and his words almost completely non-understandable under his heavy Jkaklflgv;ahg;wian accent.
"Hello, Mr. J," she said crisply, over- enunciating every word, "I am from the Office of the (bla-dee-bla-dee-bla, stuff that sounds important). YOU have been chosen to help the president of this company."
After Mr. J had worked out what she had said, he folded his arms and opened his mouth to protest. Why would he want to help somebody? But then, before he could utter a word she continued.
"Of course, there would be a reward," she hurried on.
"How... much...?" he asked.
"$300 plus anything else that is givable," she replied shaking back her hair in an I'm-too-good-for-my-job manner.
"All... right..."
"Thank you, sir. A limousine will pick you up promptly at 1:30 tomorrow. Unless that is inconvenient to you, please be here," she turned her head side-ways, waiting for him to reply.
"That's... fine... I'll..." he began.
"Call us if you change your mind," she interrupted, obviously not wanting to wait for him to finish his train of thought.
He nodded slowly.
"Goodbye, and thank you," she turned around and literally marched back to her company car.