The simple fact is that the longer I am forced to continue in this industry, the greater the chances are that I will have to kill Vodzilla. I'm not proud of this, but it is growing more inevitable with each passing year and I fear that there is nothing I can do about it except hope that she dies of alcohol poisoning before we reach that point.
But as I've stated before, she is invincible to alcohol. If it was going to kill her it would've done so by now. So now her life has come down to two competing timelines, the complete breakdown of all her internal organs, or death by StripperHerder.
Why the hate you ask, surely you're forced to work with other degenerate pieces of shit, what makes her so special?
Well let me state the events of tonight for an example.
We had this whale come in tonight who normally inhabits the abomination that I had formerly worked at. This is a really great guy who happens to be filthy fucking rich and somehow never became a loathsome cuntbag like most rich guys.
I was surprised to see him as I know he's a regular at Manky's Whore Buffet. I greeted him by name, sat him at a good table and let him know that I could take care of him after hours if he chose to stay that long.
And he did. It's 9AM and I just got home 15 minutes ago. He stayed 7 hours after closing and spent stupid amounts of money buying bottles for Vodzilla and Dumptruck. I comped him the first two hours of room fees which saved him around $900. He thanked me by tipping me a hundo and I was very happy to have it.
And here's where Vodzilla stuck her giant barbed cock in me. That miserable booze sponge made around $1500 tonight and when Dumptruck reminded her to tip me she said "(whale) already gave him a hundred bucks."
You fucking cunt.
I am not a thief, therefore I evenly split that $100 with 4 other Floor Grubs for a grand total of $20 for little ole me. Now maybe, just maybe Vodzilla doesn't realize that the Floor Snouts split our tips at the end of the night and therefore that c-note wasn't mine to keep. I seriously doubt this, I sincerely believe she's a walking bag of rat cum wrapped in skin. She's been in the industry for years and surely knows how the system works.
As you read this, a sneer of incredulity creeping across your features, bear in mind that at 5AM, the computers run the reports and the payroll stops regardless of whether you're still working or not. So in addition to getting stiffed by the Death of Bottles, I also stayed at work for 3 1/2 hours without even getting my measly hourly pay AND my manager, Sir Faroe Von SkittleFist II, didn't want to let the 3rd afterhours room go on, much less the 4th and 5th. But I convinced him that Whaley the Whale was a customer well worth cultivating and therefore he said "Fuck it. Do it."
Thus enabling my favorite Leather-Necked-Bottleswallow the opportunity to make an additional $600. Of which I got jack and shit.
I was actually hoping I would have to give this hammered plane crash* a ride home tonight so I could take her money and push her from my moving vehicle while I was doing 85 miles per hour and claim total ignorance about what became of her after I dropped her off at her house.
This didn't surprise me at all. In fact that is why I asked Dumptruck to remind Vodzilla to tip me, I figured maybe she might listen to her champagne room buddy. I guessed it was pretty hopeless and I wasn't wrong.
The best part about the whole thing was the end of the night when 'Zilla was going on the the manager about how that whale is her customer and how she brought him in.
Really? Is that why you were so surprised to see him 4 hours into your shift? You wretched lipdragger.
This guy came in with another former co-worker of mine who is really hot and has since gone into the Escort business. He most certainly fucking did not come in for Vodzilla and indeed had no clue that she even works here.
Her ability to rewrite history in her own mind borders on the superhuman or subhuman or something. I often wonder if she's just drunk mouth-shitting or if she really believes her own version of events.
Oh how I truly fucking hate her. It's an honest, sincere hatred that I've grown accustomed to, like a terminal deformity that I've made a suicide pact with.
Fuck me. I'm done with this one.
Fuck your pictures,
-The StripperHerder
* Like a train wreck but scarier looking and sadder.
