But I gots to get PAID, nigga.

I used to work for this old lady doing chores around the house and helping run her secretarial business (I mostly did transcribing of long documents since I'm a pretty fast typist). She had turned into a cat lady since her husband had died, and the entire place reeked of cat urine. So much so, that I gagged for the first fifteen minutes every week I was over there.

Then one time, after I hadn't been around for a few weeks, she told me her cat had chased a mouse behind a bookshelf and it had died there. Two weeks before. I had to unload this huge bookshelf, drag it halfway across the room to clean the mouse off of it, and then, when I look where the mouse had died, there was the mouse which had been shredded to bits, along with a slew of ancient cat turds.

Jam it back in, in the dark.