“So for some reason Gina puts him through to me, and this guy actually asks me if his money’s ok! I know, right?!”
“Listen very carefully, Honey. I want you to take all our cash and bury it under the dog house. Then you get a long, sharp stick, and poke the dog for like an hour and pour acid on him. Yeah, I saw it in a movie. You might also want to Xerox that cash so we have more. Look I don’t know Jules, I’m out of fucking options!”
“I don’t know!? I thought if the government poured almost $1 trillion dollars that they don’t have into the market it would fix things.”
Carl lost his patience with the monitor and told it to go fuck itself.
As if things didn’t look bad enough on the trading floor last week, now random Arab Sheikhs are showing up with envelopes full of cash like it’s a going out of business sale at a generic cologne outlet.
“Yes, but could I put a drain on the floor? A big drain, and a real one, not this metaphorical one I see here.”
“Hey everyone! Lloyd’s suckin’ cock for $32.50!”