It’s been ten years since I founded my ventriloquist company, No Strings Attached, and my puppet Mr. Helmquist and I have been in business together since the beginning. I always had my hand up him, no matter the disagreement (we even survived the rebranding debacle where he thought we should become an adults-only ventriloquism company called Up Yours), but this morning everything changed. We discussed a new act and he rudely said that all of my suggestions were beneath him, and when I told him to take that stick out of his ass—like I always do when he’s acting unusually contrarian—he jumped off my arm, knocked me to the floor, took my keys, and threw me out of the apartment. I tried calling the company to tell them that he’d gone rogue, but he’s already fired me and is out there wreaking havoc.
Please understand that Mr. Helmquist is too wild to run my company. It doesn’t matter if he’s talking at a kid’s birthday party or officiating a comedian’s wedding, I always end up dragging him home after catching him snorting coke in the back room. Every last cent of tips we get from the shows is gone as soon as we have it, and if I didn’t put my money from the company in a separate account, I wouldn’t even be able to pay rent. Plus, my parents won’t help me out because they’ve disowned me for leaving the circus.
He’s already sent two group emails that just said “i,m free” and “how do i make the comma go up” to all of our recent clients, and spent half the money in our account on who knows what.
I just need a bit to help me get back on my feet and find a new apartment. I swear that I’ll make an honest living afterwards, without that druggie, shady ass puppet tearing me down. But if I sleep in this hallway for more than one night, the janitor will kick me out, so I am forced to beg you to help me.