All in good jest. This really happened where I work, and I can certainly see this happen in a big city. The characters Johnny and Tony belong to Connie Nervegas, and we have sneaky plans for our goofy villains.

Just another day in the damn Coop.

So I'm doing my thing, dumping the grease and shit in the fryer when this clumpy asshole comes through the backdoor, talking Spanish a million miles an hour at me, like I know what the hell he's saying! My coworker, some butch chick named Bonnie or Fonnie or whatever, yaps back in Spanish and points wildly at me. I'm standing there with grease dripping on the floor and I'm wondering whose ass I'm gonna throw in the fryer.

Leo told me to get a job, any job that would take a mutant turtle, and that I have to keep it for at least 3 months or we don't go to Vegas. I've been wanting to go ever since I could count money, and I think I've been pretty damn patient. I could have hitched a ride ages ago or forced Casey to go with me and pay for most of everything. Anyways, I got two days before the end of my 3 month probation, and I dig the people of the place. They're cool. Straight forward, no bullshitting.

Except this Bonnie and her hotshot short stuff man-buddy. The guy doesn't seem to have a neck either. Whatever. I wonder when they're gonna let me in on the joke here.

"Julio!" Bonnie's porky voice threatens, "It's not Raphael! He didn't steal money from us!"

Julio the Terrible with his greasy hair and busted lip turns, shaking a finger at me like I'm a child, "You steal money from me? You scum! You give flirts to my wife? I cut you like onion."

Now I ain't a person that whistles stereotypes because lord knows, I ain't won any beauty contests, but he sounds like the drugged up version of the Taco Bell dog. And waving that stupid finger at me! Only one person can wave a finger at me, and he ain't in the room!

Bonnie tries to rub his shoulder to death. "He doesn't mean that, Raphael! He's got you mixed up with Tony!"

"If he in with Johnny and Tony, he really dead," Julio declares and then rolls in broken Spanish with Bonnie. I should just laugh this off, but I'm two days away from having the week of my life, and if this hairy shrimp thinks he can tackle a brick wall like me, we'll set up a time and place for the hurting. As for this morning, I'm not in the mood and Julio doesn't even work here so fair game.

I slam that grease into the fryer, spilling hot oil everywhere and I reach for my best intimidating voice, "If you don't get him out of here, I'll knock that no neck motherfucker back to Mexico!"

He scampers out the back door like an owl with diarrhea, and I fume for the rest of the morning. This job sucks and everybody wants to pick on the green turtle, but I'll be smiling soon when I'm in the car and going to Vegas.

But I'm also smiling because I like having fun with little shits like Julio. I hope I hear from him again soon … just after my vacation, though. If he really wants to die, he should stand between me and Sin City.

For once, I love being me!