Job? What Job?

It happened yesterday. It came from nowhere. My father called. He wants me to get a job. A regular job. The 40 hour per week type of job. Apparently, he opened his credit card bills and somehow came to the conclusion that it's time for me to start paying for things. Myself. Without his help.

I explained to him that I already have a full-time job as a celebutante, and that I am about to burst into the acting/modeling/singing scene at any moment. My agent, Linus, already has a commercial lined up for me.

Did any of that matter to Daddy von Klapp? Not a bit. And so I called Linus and told him to find me something quick before Daddy has me flipping burgers in a fast food joint.