Let me do the introductions.
The Supervisor: Sure – okay – just your average kind of Visor, day to day, but hey! you’ll soon see the light, especially when they shine it over the city tonight. You’ll see what he’s capable of when he pulls on his cape, tears off his moustache and glasses and makes a couple o’ low, valedictory passes on his Supervisory way to whipping your worthless asses
The Manager: He manages. End of. Not someone you’d necessarily wanna make a friend of. I saw him manage a man from the chair he was sat on. He could fart a hurricane and keep his hat on. We were riding the sideline one time and he came sliding over, casual as a virus, got right up inside us, sunny and shiny as an anti-personnel mine. Man – I was so impressed I was de-pressed. But that’s my Manager, three parts mano a mano, four parts challenger. I hear the Devil came on a visit. Knocked on my Manager’s door, he said Who is it? The Devil, said the Devil, making a collection. But I don’t want no flotsam and jetsom. I want quality souls and they said you can get some. I’ll see what I can do, the Manager said. Went straight back to bed. Unbelievable, the Devil said. Who the hell is he – King Priam? This motherfucker’s even worse than I am.
The Chief: He’s a hustler, a player, a teamster in a tux. He’s mean as a monk on junk, crashing the party in a monster truck. He’s got a bunch of those vital signs you’ve been looking for all this time. He’s got the stance of a lion, the mane of a lion, hell – the mind of a lion, which I’ll admit’s a liability given the fragility of all the paws he panhandles these days, the international scandals, the jackboots, jockstraps, the saintly sandals. But hey! Them’s the breaks, my friend. Like my ol’ man Morrison said. This is the end. Take it or leave it. No-one cares if you believe it.
This company’s a ship going nowhere, lickety splicket.
C’mon over here, I’ll sell you a ticket.