|INTERVIEW (standard:humor, 625 words)|
|Author: Danny Zil||Added: Mar 06 2007||Views/Reads: 1969/0||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Just a normal job interview....you've probably had one like it yourself.|
It was one of those top floor offices that reeked of money – plush carpets, expensive furniture, the big windows with superb views. Christ it even had a jacuzzi. There was the possibility that the Manager was a nice guy...but he hid it well. He leafed through my cv then looked up at me. “Regardless of how this interview goes,” he said, “you haven't got the job.” This thrilled me. I was into disappointment. “I believe you had to fly down to New York to see me ?” he went on. “How was your flight ?” “Uncomfortable,” I replied. “Bad turbulence ?” “Yeah - especially when we were entering Earth's atmosphere.” He grinned and asked if I wanted a drink. “Vodka,” I told him. “Take anything in it ?” “The Pacific Ocean.” He laughed and poured the drinks. He enquired if I wanted ice but I explained that a couple of distant relatives had died on the Titanic and I hated the damn stuff. “That's understandable,” he said, “but I still have to ask you what your favourite day is ?” “Tomorrow,” I answered. He nodded in approval and sipped his drink. I asked if it was okay to smoke and he told me to go ahead, so I took out a cigar pellet, dropped it on the floor and crushed it underfoot. I closed my eyes and that mellow cigar aroma wafted me back to my study. Surrounded by my books. The crackling of the log fire. Rain against the windows. The creak of my rocking chair. The slurping sounds from the Filipino maid as she sucked my cock. The Manager interrupted my reverie by emitting a long and if the truth be told, beautifully melodic fart. I sensed he was about to ask a probing question and pretended to give him my fullest attention. “Suppose you were Jesus,” he ventured, “and the night before the Crucifixion you discover you had grown big breasts. How would you react ?” “No problem,” I replied. “Jesus was the first cross-dresser.” He laughed and raised his glass eye to me. I sensed he was starting to like himself. “This is a forward looking company,” he went on, “so I have to ask you to try to predict the diseases you may contract in the future.” “Is it okay to exaggerate?” I queried. “Oh don't be so predictable,” he replied. His wife came into the room A beautiful buxom blonde. She was stark naked apart from her clothes. She looked at me and smiled seductively. “Would you like to puck me ?” she asked. For a few seconds I puzzled over this idea then it dawned on me that the Manager was a bad ventriloquist. I glanced over at him and he was grinning at me. His wife strolled over and turned on the jacuzzi. The water began to bubble and several heads bobbed to the surface. I recognized my brother – he was wearing the eye shadow I'd given him. I glanced back at the Manager and he had changed into the uniform of a nineteenth century Hussars officer. “It's 1815, the Battle of Waterloo and you're in the cavalry,” he began. “I'm your commanding officer.” I realised the outcome of the interview hung on the answer to the question he was about to ask. “You glance across the field, see Napoleon's troops lined up and know you're facing certain death,” he went on then paused and stared at me. “What would you do if I said ‘Charge !' ?” “Make sure to add 10% Service,” I replied. He grinned. “I've changed my mind,” he said. “The job's yours. How would five hundred bucks a day sound to you ?” “ Pretty noisy,” I replied. “Especially during the mating season.” Tweet
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