Sometimes this job can get to you. You see that little guy over there, headed to the men's room?
He's already drunk and he keeps talking about how his dick gets hard when he hears that a house is on fire, how excited he gets when a house is burning down.
I just got burned out of my house this winter. I was cooking, heard the baby in the dining room and when I stepped through the door to see how she was, I heard this woosh behind me. The gas line behind the stove went—that's what they said later—and engulfed the space where I was standing and the griddle too—became a grease fire. I didn't throw any water. I tossed a bag of flour at it, which did nothing and said "This house is done," grabbed the baby and got out—and it makes that sicko excited?
He's also talking about how sick he is of bringing junkies back from ODs and wants to start letting them die.
I hope he leaves soon. Trying to smile when you're hearing shit like that is no easy thing.