The repo business is a hard business, especially here in Los Angeles and environs. Me and my brother Anthony and our cousin A.J. are the best in the business. We will go toe-to-toe with any other repo outfit in the lower 48. Our beat? Hollywood. Repomen to the stars.
You might've heard lately about celebrities losing their houses and cars and whatnot. That was all us. Here's some of our recent repos.
Sitch: Doe-eyed Diva has been growing them hooves for years and I guess she thought the bank wouldn't notice. Big mistake. We pulled up in Repo One and showed her the "hoof" stops here.
Tony Sez: Must have been 200 Hathaway Hooves recovered in no time. Partials and scats all over the living room and pool area. She was shedding and kicking corners of brick patio to loosen hoof. Let her keep the new ones. Nice outdoor pizza oven, too bad we couldn't repo that one and bake some pies.
Anthony Sez: Fartload of cloppers. Huge hoof stash above garage, huge MUS-tache above this broad's lip. No bubs, no trubs. We just backed up the truck and let 'er rip. She claimed everything belonged to her but couldn't provide receipt one on payment. Hoof mural broken down with broom handles and put in bags. Beautiful painted hooves.
DR. BILL COSBY
Sitch: TV doctor dad of color owed three different creditors some serious money and all three of them had us out to make a repo call. He was supposed to be out of town. He weren't. You always got to be careful on these when a black person is involved. I am not saying no more on that.
Anthony Sez: Sometimes when you make a 'po you just got to roll with the puncheths. Dr. Cosby was supposed to be out of town, but he weren't. End result = busted up grill on Repo One and one mega mad TV dad. Tough tee-pee, Cos-man. You wrote the check and now it's time to cash the check your ass couldn't write.
Tony Sez: Guy came friza-fruzzum at us and hitting Repo One with a golf club. Anthony distracted him by playing his dog barks CD and I ran downstairs to repo the gear. Mostly lab equipment and hospital stuff. I guess this Cosby guy was doing illegal surgeries in his cellar. Freezing experiments involving human pudding samples. Saw IV type puzzle stuff on white girls. Not my ball of beans. We deal strictly in repo. Sorry ladies.
Sitch: You can play a tough guy in the movies, but when the repo men come calling you better drop the tough guy routine real quick or the law enforcements are gonna get involved. We ended up having to call the cops out for this guy. He stopped talking trash after the police drove over him with their prowler a couple times.
Tony Sez: Bed bugs and snake bites. How do you repo a snake bite? Very carefully. And you wear a special rubber suit. We milked those mean suckers and dragged out ten mattress colonies of prime bugs. Had us one very happy creditor. Some of those bed bugs have been overdue for a year.
Anthony Sez: The mother fartload of broken cuervo 1800 bottles and a video camera set up on a tripod. This guy must have owed somebody a favor. Big time. Windowless room full of nothing but broken bottles. Got a snow shovel and a couple red wagons and went to town. Tony hauled in the bed bugs. Gonna be a good weekend.
Sitch: Don't even know who this dude is. Some fat foreign guy with a giant beard who talks like he's singing an opera. All I know is a fat bitch loves bumper pool. Had to call in A.J. on this one because hell of bumper pool tables means the family bitch gets to carry.
A.J. Sez: Hey man, I am just glad to be called out on this one. What a ride! Got to check out the Bless-man's digs. The stories I could tell you on this one would blow your mind. Like the secret panel I found behind the dresser that opened up into an incredible realm of--
Tony Sez: STFU A.J. nobody wants to hear your gay stories. Realms. As if. The only realm is this one, A.J. Everybody knows that reality is finite. At some point it is gonna stop expanding and begin contracting until such as a time as, you know, all energy coincides onto one point, uh, creating the cosmodes and such.
Anthony Sez: Whoa, whoa, whoa, Professor. What is all this finite BS? What a fartload, bro. Clearly the universe is an infinite, ever-expanding bubble and only one of an infinite array of discreet realities. So to say that A.J. is, you know, incorrect on the matter of realms, which is to say, how do you actually know that you can't sliderize yourself into some other realm? It is a distinct possibility of such as transpiring. Mathematically speaking.
A.J. Sez: There was a sleigh and it was winter time and this nice lady asked me if I wanted some Turkish--
Tony Sez: The both of you shut up. God almighty. We got the bumper tables so forget about it.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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