Yeah, just got off the phone - AGAIN! Motherfucker! I didn't get to bed until four this morning. You know, getting those names for Lloyd. Yeah, I got them. Poor survey bastards are in trouble now. That'll teach them to bad-mouth Goldman. But Lloyd still ain't happy.
This is the latest shit from that goombah:
'Mikey, can you come to New York? (Fucking hell, Lloyd. What now?) Our shamans are out of control. I give them a bonus. Expect them to be sensible. And what the fuck happens? (I don't know, Lloyd. Tell me.) The crazy sons of bitches go out and buy the most expensive fucking grimoires they can get their fucking hands on! A million dollars for one of these books! Can you believe that shit? (Lloyd, I'm sure they need the grimoires for something.) Michael, I told these dumb fucks the world is watching us. No sports cars! No vintage champagne! No Rolex watches! And no fucking rare grimoires! (A million dollars. Are you sure?) Mikey, I saw the fucking receipts! Some Pope Honorius III or some shit. I don't know. Rare fucking books - what do I know? What's wrong with going to the fucking library? Am I right or am I right? (Lloyd, you're not wrong, but -) There's this one motherfucker, Paulie - (Yeah, he's a good kid, good shaman.) Mikey, he walks straight into the office, showing everyone, a wedding present for his wife. And what kind of wife is this? You know what I mean? Anyway, I says to this prick - didn't I tell you not to go buy anything? And he says it's a wedding gift from his mother. Under his mother's name. And I was like - are you nuts? Are you fucking stupid? What's the matter with you? You gonna get us even more bad publicity. What's the matter with you? Then he says again - it's under his mother's name. Like I didn't hear him the first time. Like I'm a fucking fool or something. I nearly fucking whacked him on the spot. So, Mikey, can you come to New York, straighten these pricks out? (Lloyd, I don't have to come to New York. I'll just go on to the astral plane again. It means another night without sleep.) You're a good guy, Mike. You know that? A true gent.'
Yeah, yeah. Whatever.