Employer Series #1: Application Received

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 11, 2016

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Submitted: August 11, 2016

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“Davison! Davison! What’s going on between those ears?” is all he could hear as he came back to the prison he calls his existence. “I know you just had your balls removed but I need you to vaginamate on your own time!” exclaims a cheeky, fat, shrew by the name of Janella, who then drops a stack of forms on his desk. “Sorry dicklip, I’d help ya out but it’s not my fuckin job anymore! Now time for me to go take my vagi-tamins and man-erals! Gotta stay big and strong so I can toss your sorry ass around,” she says as she waddles to the door. She then throws her arms in the air and yells, “BOOM PROMOTION!” as the door closes behind her.

“I’d like to say she used to be sweet, but Jello’s been a morbid blob of cunt since elementary school”, Davison thinks to himself as he begins yet another night filled with tedious paperwork. Day turns black before he realizes he is the only one in the building, which has never been an issue before, but tonight felt different.

He gets up makes his way towards the break room. While passing the front lobby windows, he noticed a man standing by a windowless van with the words “Your Body Goes Here” painted sloppily on the side. The man waves happily and continues smoking his cigarette. Davison watches the man for another two minutes before shuffling back to his desk, sans coffee. Pretending to be unafraid, he finishes his work. He then unravels the token of his loneliness: an old, squeaky futon he bought off of an old man in college. He lays down and inhales deeply a few times, and on his last breath lets go of his consciousness.

He feels himself slipping away into a warm, comforting abyss only to be hit with a nauseatingly cold wall of water thrown by non other than Janella, still chewing what is most likely her tenth kolache. “You sleeping on the job you little shit?!” exclaims the shrew as Davison stammers to his feet.

“Its already 8?” Davison thinks to himself.

“You think I got my promotion by dreaming of Taiwanese lady-boy hookers on my cousin-daddy’s old fuck mat?!” asks the shrew.

“No Jello, you got it by using those chubby cheeks to blow the regional director...” utters Davison with a smirk. He feels the piercing stare of the shrew from behind. He turns around to find the shrews middle fingers fully extended and she walking backwards out of his office.

“Well a handy wasn’t cutting it, douchepacker-” She barely finishes her insult before her right eye socket explodes, spewing blood and fat bitch all over the now hysterical Davison. He tries desperately to get the shrew out of his eyes but it is with no avail. The gun shots and screams fill his head as he feels around on the floor.

“He’s here somewhere kimosabi!” he hears as he fumbles towards the door.

“The shrew!” he thinks to himself as he feels the twitching mass of douche bag, “I can get under her!” He holds his breath, expecting a stink most foul, and rolls her onto himself. “Kolaches...” he thinks to himself as the shots cease.

“I’m telling ya brosef, he ain't here!” exclaims a voice from just outside the door, “but get a load of this veggie tray! Dibs!”

“Na, he’s here. He wouldn’t be anywhere else”, uttered a man in the distance, “Fine...tooth...comb boys.”

“Oh shit! Oh shitty shit shit! Davison you are going to die today!” he thinks to himself as he waits for the voices to approach. They do not.

“So many dips!” one of the voices exclaims with a mouth full of goodies. Minutes feel like days. He finally musters enough courage to peek his head out, only to find four men standing over him with sub-machine guns.

Managing to keep his heart from jumping out of his throat, he utters “ooo fucky fuck” and closes his eyes expecting to soon be void of life. From the silence comes a voice.

“Davison Dovecki?” reads the voice. Davison opens one eye and finds the man in his face with a now unfolded sheet of paper, “Davison Dovakye? Dovagoo?”

“It...it’s Do-veck-i” Davison barely passes through his lips.

“Wonderful!” says the man with a smile, “and this here is your handwriting on this app?”

“Ye...ya...yes it is” replies Davison, “w-whats going on?” The man pulls a rag from his pocket.

“Well Dovagoo, this is a job interview”, he says while forcing the rag over the mouth and nose of the still frightened Davison.

“Chloroform?” he thinks to himself just before his consciousness slips away.

 

END


© Copyright 2017 B. Foreman. All rights reserved.

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