Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, kid. I hired you to do one job, one job only: wrangle kitties.
I should have kept it in the family. Ever since my great-grandpa started this kitty-wranglin’ business, we valued the importance of keeping baby kitties together in a single pride. They need each other’s warmth, kinship—but they also have no sense of direction. That’s why we took it upon ourselves to keep these beautiful baby kitties together—for the good of cat and man.
But you just couldn’t hack it, could you.
You told me wranglin’ kitties was in your blood! You live and breathe by the code of the kitty wrangler, you told me. Then, not two days into the job, you lost 15—15!—kitties. I used to be able to spot a top notch kitty wrangler from a mile away. Letting you onto this farm makes me question my judgement. Maybe it’s time to hang up my kitty wranglin’ overalls. Maybe it’s time to…
What am I saying?! I still got it! It’s you that’s the problem.
Here. Take this check. It’s your wages owed and another hundred bucks to get the heck out of here. I can’t waste another minute on you. These kitties ain’t gonna wrangle themselves.