An Offer Unable to Be Declined

What is this magical fund-providing concept we call employment? Is selling one's time and work in exchange for an hourly wage desirable? Or is the life we give of too great a value to price with any

Earthly currency?

Moments ago I was approached with a delightful offer. It is certainly a step up from my current profession of Taxi Driver. However, my would-be employee had an evil air about him, and seemed as though

he required my father's research more than he's willing to admit. This set uneasily with me.

But then he mentioned the retribution. The salary alone was enough to persuade even a radical wheat monkey to stop delousing his rectum. Is evolution the force propelling us forward as a species, or is

capitalism the new mutagen? If such a price tag could alter one's very instincts, then what is to say it can't do more? Did we create this monetary monster, or are we merely pawns in its value-obsessed

competition?

Yet Thompson did not find it adequate to stop the negotiations after disclosing the ridiculously high salary. He felt the need to briefly explain the benign benefits, the pleasant perks, that accompany his

offer. "Should you accept employment with Primatech, not only will you have everything you need to conduct your research, but you will also get a delightfully amusing refrigerator magnet. It's a sheet of

paper wearing a hardhat. The subtitle reads, "Construction Paper."

"Well, that is quite the delight. I must say, you are certainly making it difficult for me to refuse, as much as I'd like to. Stopping Sylar is first on my priority list, but that magnet does sound delightful!"

"And that's not all, Doctor. You also of course get a lifetime supply of paper products, including Primatech's top of the line triple ply toilet paper."

"I do use quite a bit of toilet paper. It seems the double ply is simply not enough. At first I found myself disappointed in the strength offered by a single ply, but upon upgrading to double ply, I remained

disappointed. The second ply seemed as weak as the first, and if there is one place one does not desire flimsy paper, it's in the lou. Yet your offer of triple ply is rather appealing."

"And there's more!"

"More?" I inquired enthusiastically.

"Yes. You'll also get something that ever geneticist would love to have, but few can possess.....your very own chimpanzee for testing purposes."

"Wow, I must say, I am more than shocked. My very own test primate? This is good news indeed! At the University, all I had was cockroaches that I managed to catch before they scurried under the

counter."

"And should he die, we'll replace him. An unlimited supply of chimpanzees, a refrigerator magnet, a lifetime supply of paper products, and of course, the six figure salary, Asterisk."

"Asterisk?"

"Oh, nothing. Turrets. So, do we have a deal?"

"Well...."

Thompson reached into his pocket. He pulled out an object, and when he opened his fist, I saw it. The refrigerator magnet. It was as delightful as he had said. "You've got a deal!"

He patted me on the shoulder as we stepped out of the apartment and mumbled, "Asterisk, in rupees."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. Turrets."