The Interview - Part 2.5
- “I'm all done with the psychological exams and the useless new applicant paperwork, Mr. Bridges,” I said as I turned the gold-plated knob on his office door and entered the CEO’s room.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa...You’re not Bobo Bridges...”
Sitting stationary at the desk, draped in all black, noticeably larger than before was unmistakably someone from my not too distant past. There sat Debbie.
Stunned with my mouth agape, I stuttered, “No nno. This can’t be!”
But then the mass that I believed to be Debbie rotated and it turned out to be totally not Debbie. It was simply a large black office chair!
“Of course I’m Bobo Bridges!” exclaimed Bobo. He flashed his trademark toothy grin and slicked forward his back-to-front sparrow colored combover with both hands and cocked his head as if a picture were being taken.
“Right you are, sir, It’s just that the chair that you are sitting in reminded me of this girl I know.”
“Your friend looks like a chair?”
“Well, sort of. She wears a burqa,” I replied sheepishly. “Look, can we just start the interview. My palms are sweating like crazy, I’m feeling I may pass out from dehydration.”
“Oh my! Please--have a Lemon-lime Slice, it’s on me,” he grabbed a cold can of Slice from a microfridge under his desk and tossed it at me. Naturally, I ducked and the can went crashing against the door I entered through. “Don’t take that one. Here’s another one.” He placed a second Lemon-lime Slice on his marble top and beckoned me to come forward and have a seat in the chair opposite his. My eyes widened.
I accepted his Slice and I opened it, ravenously suckling from the can’s mouth. I’m so thirsty. I slurped as the cold liquid galloped down my throat and I moaned, “Ah,” in total refreshment. I shook my head from side to side to gargle the Slice, back and forth and back. I could feel the cells in the furthest recesses of my extremities crying out in elation. Slice: you taste so good--like mother’s milk. Wow.
“Shall we begin?”
"I am ready."