Gerry.

Gerry, you're over an hour and forty-five minutes late for work again. I can't afford to hire you if you're going to insist on swimming to work every morning! I mean, Jesus -fuckin'- Christ, it's one thing to be nearly two hours late, but it's another thing to then sit and bitch about how that polluted-ass lake is giving you a fucked-up purple coloured rash along your back. Oh, and seriously don't get me started on the lack of uniform ... or rather, how your uniform is suddenly that pink swim cap and black speedo combo you're wearing. If you weren't so awesome at rewinding those video cassettes, you'd totally be fired.