Monday, September 21, 2015

Fifty Shades of Parody (Chapter 21b)

     I'm at my job interview.
     "Miss Steele," Jack Hyde, the acquisitions editor at SIP, the company I'm applying to, begins by asking me some sharp, intelligent questions. I'd tell you some of them, but I don't feel like making any up.
     "And where do you see yourself in ten years?" he says.
     What is this, a trick question?
     "Right here," I answer, confidently, "attending a party celebrating my ten-year anniversary with this company."
     He laughs, and then says, "Miss Steele, I would like to do a word association with you, if you don't mind."
     "Why would I mind?"
     "You'd be surprised. Anyway, I'll say a word, and you can respond with the first word that comes into your mind."
     "Okay."
     "Wrong word."
     "Sorry."
     "Well, let's start with something simple then. How about: boy."
     "Girl."
     "That's good. Now: man."
     "Woman."
     "Even better. Music."
     "Sax."
     "Number."
     "Six."
     "Religions."
     "Sects."
     "A building."
     "An erection."
     "I said one word."
     "Okay."
     "Wrong word."
     "Sorry."
     "Ding."
     "Dong."
     "Computer."
     "Wang."
     "Nixon."
     "Dick."
     "Needle."
     "Prick."
     "Mistake."
     "Boner."
     "Nerd."
     "Dork."
     "Hot dog."
     "Weiner."
     "Saint."
     "Peter."
     "Hang."
     "Hung."
     "One-eyed."
     "Willie."
     "Small."
     "Huge."
     "Chicken."
     "Pecker."
     "Square."
     "Round."
     "Donkey."
     "Ass."
     "Butter."
     "Creamy."
     "Cat."
     "Pussy."
     "Soft."
     "Hard."
     "Gun."
     "Cock."
     "Rooster."
     "Big, fat cock."
     "Dry."
     "Wet."
     "Water."
     "Very wet."
     "Ocean."
     "Soooo wet."
     "Talk."
     "Intercourse."
     "Shot."
     "Bang."
     "Banging."
     "Pounding."
     "Rhythm."
     "Pulsating."
     "Aching."
     "Throbbing."
     "Turtle."
     "Faster."
     "Faster?"
     "Faster!"
     "Shallow."
     "Deeper!"
     "Easy."
     "Harder!"
     "Baseball."
     "HARDER!"
     "I'm there."
     "Me, too."
     "Arrive."
     "Come."
     He stops, leans back, lights a cigarette, takes a drag deep into his lungs, and lets the smoke billow out from between his lips satisfyingly. Slowly, as if he's under water, he looks over to Elizabeth Morgan, the head of human resources at SIP, the company I'm applying to.
     "Give this lady a job," he tells her.
 
 
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