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Many Plans Ruined

"So, tell me something about yourself."

Although the question was normal enough, I felt the urge to crawl over her desk and lick her face.

"Did you just say farty pants?"

" Um, why do you want to work here?"

I noticed her big red lips moving, but all I heard was bees. Have you ever attracted bees to your person by kidnapping the queen and jamming her in your ear? I have. It comes with drawbacks, but the buzzing makes up for all of it. All that buzzing, all the time. Ever since I had the hive removed I've been playing buzzing sounds on my i-pod, but it just isn't the same. Occasionally, either if I've had too much coffee, or not enough, and if I'm in a stressful situation, the buzzing arises on it's own accord, and my mind is filled with pleasant memories of frolicking in the hills.

With the buzzing, and her mouth moving ever so provocatively I imagined her lips ridding themselves of her face and floating over to my ear and telling me about french toast, polo, and mice. I was dying to hear about mice, and to be honest, still am. Maybe I will google it. It's too bad wikipedia doesn't read to you in soft tones. An idea for the future.

Unfortunately, as I was sitting gazing at her mouth mechanics, the machinery stopped moving, and her eyes, like miniature Ferris wheels, spoke of a discomfort.

I knew the interview was going badly. It didn't help for it to be held during Ramadan, when I am all but starving. Since it was going so badly, and remembering the joie de vivre the books talk about, I offered her the milkshake I was saving for post-interview as a special treat to myself for doing such a great job.

It was in a container no bigger than a golf ball, it being specially designed in Japan. I guess they didn't design it for being kept in a pocket for over an hour, because by the swirling sound the container made, I could tell my milk shake had melted. Hoping she wasn't a connoisseur, and that she was having a craving for shaken milk, I held it out with a smile.

"Milkshake?" I offered.

"Milkshake?" She asked.

"Mmmm-hmmm," I replied and smiled once more.

She must have took the sparkle in my eyes as genuine, or maybe she was having a touch of the madness, whatever the case, she accepted with a smile of her own, and rose from her chair to grab at it. Although the Japanese designed the container with simplicity in mind, they took the effort of making the cap childproof. As a result, the interviewer had some troubles. But she got it off eventually, and in one quick motion poured it's contents into her mouth. Judging by the way she swirled the shake in her mouth, my fear had become realized: She was a milkshake connoisseur. I have heard of them before and imagined running into them at circuses or brightly clad festivals, but never would I have thought to find one here, and in civilian clothing.

"Distinctive tannins," she said.

"Tannins?!" I inadvertently cried aloud. She wore a look of concern as the result of my exclamation, but before she had time to inquire, her eyes had gone back into her head and she was on the floor.

Being the fool that I am, I accidentally offered her the blue container, when I should have offered her the red one. The blue one being wine laced with methamphetamine made for the occasion of another possible chance encounter with my nemesis Dr. Greenborough. Just thinking of the name left a sour taste in my mouth and I had no choice but to spit. Not that the interviewer would care in her present condition, but to avoid any future complications with her, aside from accidentally drugging her, I spit in the plant pot. Plants love minerals.

But it was no time to start planning about my nemesis's future demise. Plan C had been ingested by the interviewer. Not only did I have to contact Ray for more of the drug I had to think of something to do with her body to avoid suspicion from her co-workers and especially her secretary: Keeper of the shifty eyes.

Not being much of a tactics man, I simply propped her back up in her chair and positioned her hand on her cheek, so as to make it look like she was in deep thought.

"That should do till lunch," I surmised.

Upon exiting her office, I made it look as though she still had her wits about her, by saying "goodbye," and pretending she said "have a nice day." I smiled at the secretary and complimented her on her dress, the colour of which produced gag as I left.

I probably wouldn't get the job, and was down a potion, but at least I still had my milkshake. And although the interview did not go as well as it could have, I decided to drink it anyway.

The doctor said the paramedics had to climb a tree to get at me several hours later. As it turns out the milkshake was in fact Plan B of project Nemesis Undertaking which left me minus another potion. If it weren't for the closet of illegal Mexican immigrants I keep in my closet, I would surely be in the poor house. "Get sewing," I tell them. And they do.


JMH said...

Absurd! Makes me want to let go.

sybil law said...

What do they sew?!

You are amazing. Your freaking mind! Love it. :)

Asylum Dolly said...

Squeak squeak! That is my impression of a mouse. I hope that helps.

Ramadan? Last week you were a buddhist.You are a religion whore.

Your stories are always like weird dreams. Nice work! Can i have some of that plan b milkshake stuff? It might help revive my dead imagination. Or maybe that was the problem. I cant remember drinking anything funny though.

Yes, what are they sewing? I hope you are at least paying them well.

All of my plans get ruined too. But not in such fun ways unfortunately.

John Dantzer said...

JMH - Just do it, as though you had to pee on a bicycle and didn't want to stop.

Sybil - Thank-you! They sew hats and the hems of shower curtains.

Bon - Actually, I was hoping to hear more facts. But good effort.
I know, I'm a religion whore, but they all preach the same things, right? Basically.
Have some wine on my behalf, forget about the methamphetamines.
You should add spice to your ruined plans by acting crazy. Bring chairs wherever you go. That is crazy.