Job Interview

“Hey, there you are!”

“Hey…”

“Sorry I’m late, but now I’m here, so…ta-daaa!”

“Yeah. You’re here.”

“Aw, c’mon. I’m not -that- late. Right?”

“…”

“I mean…ok, guess I am, but…you don’t need to get mad about it. Well, maybe a bit, but just a–”

“They didn’t hire me.”

“Oh? Oh, shit…I’m sorry. Damn. But you’re more than qualified for it!”

“I know. They made a point to mention how impressed they were at my resume, over the entire interview.”

“Ok, but did they at least give a reason? Anything?”

“They didn’t have to. From the moment I walked in there and made eye contact, I knew they’d dug up dirt on me. My little trip to the hospital.”

“Those assholes! Isn’t that shit, like, illegal or something?”

“Even if it was, I can’t prove they did it. I just smiled and thanked them for their time.”

“That fucking sucks so much, man. But hey, you always land on your feet, c’mon, I’ll buy you a beer!”

“What’s going on here? Who are you talking to?”

“Oh, sorry officer. I was just talking to myself…”

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Mementos from Sufrida Street: Love is a Four Letter Word

“Love makes the World go round, baby!”
 
His smile was like liquorice in my head. I hated liquorice.
 
“Love’s also a bitch.”
 
The trigger offered no resistance when I pulled it. A gunpowder orgasm mixed a a cocktail of noise and lighting that filled the room. Grey and red painted a Pollock on the far brick wall.
 
One second my revulsion made man, the next, a crumpled dead thing on the floor. His face looked better now. The neon buzzing outside the room’s window drilled my head after the ringing in my ears stopped.
 
Saturday evening and nowhere to go. Love kills, baby.