Mr. Masters

He is my boss, strong, and elderly—a deadly trifecta.

The definition of job happiness has completely changed.

My resume was a falsehood, but I didn't think it would matter.

I mean, I was meant to be a nanny, so any kid would adore me.

I believed I applied for a job working for a lady.

However, Julian Masters is unquestionably a man—the sort you see yourself licking chocolate.

First day was not good.

I saw the children, who were the offspring of Satan, via a window and witnessed him engaging in a repulsive but interesting activity.

The second day was much worse; when he discovered me prying in his bathroom cupboard while wearing my short pyjamas, everything went haywire.

I ran him over with a golf cart on the third day.

And on the fourth day, I had made up my mind to desire the chocolate in its whole.

Slid off of me.

However, wise, widower Judges are not fooled by snazzy nannies.

Don't they?