Fantasy Job #7: An Abnormal, Paranormal Investigator

Beset by unemployment and cursed with an over active imagination, I have started fantasizing about dream jobs.

Fantasy Job #7: An Abnormal, Paranormal Investigator

Aliens, Bigfeet, Ghosts, UFOs, Haints, I don't give a fuck. I'll investigate them like a duck on a june bug.

I want to find complete dumb asses. You know, drugged up white trailer trash. Then I will investigate their claims of alien abduction or dogs with moose antlers.

Can't you see it now? I show up at their trailer with a camera crew. It takes me five minutes to plow through the trash on their front porch to get to their front door. Then me and my brave crew spend the night drinking beer and smoking weed with the white trash; waiting for Satan to emerge from the lawn mower shed.

Nothing in this will go well. This is some redneck couple we are dealing with here. After about eight beers, two shots and three hits from a joint; ole girl is going to take her top off. This will, of course, piss off ole boy. A small domestic disturbance will follow. The ghost of old Granny Witherspoon will be missed due to the argument over exposing tittes and who bought the last carton of cigarettes.

I am worried that ghosts may be real and have a libido like mine. Somebody or something is going to get fucked. It would never be my luck to encounter the ghost of the nineteen year old, hot, Camero-Bitch, nympho. Hell no! I'll have to fend off the homosexual advances of "Thad, The Undead Art Collector."

Finding aliens, now I would enjoy that. It is one of my life's goals to kick the ever-loving shit out of an alien bastard. No good can come from aliens on Earth. Little fuckers are always up to no good. My fondest wish is to send one back to Alpha Centauri, and have him report: "That Dirty Ert is a bad ass, alien beating, sumbitch."

Aliens are simply: little shit-grazers from another solar system or dimension. Either way, when I find the shit-asses, all hell is gonna break loose. I've got a tie iron with ET's fucking name on it. If the four way tie iron don't fuck him up, the bicycle chain will.

Dirty Ert, The Abnormal Paranormal Investigator