Lately, millions of Discount Storytime fans have asked what a typical dinner conversation is like at my home. First, stop asking, that’s creepy. Second, I’ll tell you. Take last week, for example. I enjoyed a lovely dinner with my wife, Tina, and our two children, Faye and Turner. I had gone to a job interview that morning, and was sure everyone wanted to hear all about it.
We held hands, and while Tina said dinner grace, I pictured badgers with little samurai swords and wondered. Why do they have swords? What are their plans? Are they good or evil badgers? Then we started dinner, and I prepared for the barrage of questions about my job interview.
Tuner blurted, “I got a B on my history test! I was worried I wouldn’t do so good, but all that studying paid off,” and smiled proudly.
Yeah, Turner, way to make everything about yourself over just a ‘B.’
Then Faye jumped in with this long-ass story about how she found a wounded bird on the playground and suggested the class care for it as a class project. The teachers thought that was a wonderful idea and Faye was so kind, and considerate, and blah, blah, whatever. Man, that kid can talk.
Tina’s eyes lit up while listening to their stories and even did a little hand clap when Faye said the bird’s wing was already starting to move a little. Then Tina droned on about how proud she was of Faye and Turner, and asked me what I thought of our wonderful children.
“I think my job interview today went well.” I started, finally getting a word in.
Tina’s eyes squinted. “Oh, that’s right. I guess I was focused on supporting our children,” she said, in that ‘we’re going to talk about this later,’ voice.
“Yeah. I think it went well,” I continued, refusing to cede conversation territory. Everyone sighed and tucked in to their dinner. Turner, who’s twelve, offered to cook dinner tonight and made pizza bites, boxed mac and cheese, and steamed broccoli.
“Where was your interview at, dad?” Faye asked. She popped a piping hot pizza bite into her mouth, blew out hot air, and fanned her mouth. A moment later, Tina did the same thing. You can guess where Faye got it from.
“It was at – “
“Can you pass the pepper please, Faye?” asked Tina. I sighed while Faye passed it over.
“It was at Mani Acquisitions, Inc. Over on Industrial Boulevard. They are looking for a senior clerical administrator.”
“Is being a senior clerical administrator exciting, dad?” asked Tuner, who was adding pepper to his own mac and cheese.
“Well, most people think it would be a dull job, and they are right.” I said and Turner laughed. “It’s not ‘exciting’, but it’s the kind of work I like.”
“What sort of questions did they ask you?” asked Faye, taking back the pepper.
“Oh, the usual stuff, about my work history, a bunch of questions about administrative procedure, I guess to make sure I know what I’m doing. That all went fine, I think. But I felt a bit underdressed. I should have worn a tie like you said, honey.” I took a bite of the mac and cheese, pretty good for Turner’s first try, and I told him that.
“Oh, I’m sure it was fine, dear,” said Tina.
I shrugged my shoulders. “My interviewers all wore black cloaks. Then they took me to the Dungeon of Trials.”
A dish clanked when Tina dropped her fork. “What?”
Everyone was now staring at me, so I continued, “yeah. There was, get this, a bookshelf, and if you pulled the right book, it slid open and beyond it was a catacomb! So I told them I also have a bookcase that opens to a secret catacomb like that.”
Tina rolled her eyes.
I looked directly at Tina and said, ” they asked me if I really did. But I remembered this was a job interview and to be honest, so I had to say no. I don’t really have one. Because my mean wife won’t let me.”
Tina stared at me and slowly chewed her pizza bite, then said, “did you tell them why I keep saying no?”
“Nuh.“ I sulked.
Tina repeated for the zillionth time, “because it’s too expensive, and God only knows what you would use it for.“ Turner quietly leaned over and whispered, “that’s OK dad. Mom tells me that all the time too,“ and patted my arm.
Faye asked for the salt, and I passed it to her. She began salting her broccoli with vigor and Tina said, “That’s enough salt, Faye. I read it’s bad for your kidneys. Go on, honey, what about this… catacombs?”
“Yeah, they were lit by torches and led down to the Dungeon of Trials.” I said, then tried the steamed broccoli. A little overcooked for my liking, but hey, good attempt, I thought.
“Well… what did they do to you?” Tina asked with a wavering voice. Oh, NOW she’s interested in how my day went.
I salted my broccoli and said, “we walked for a long time, then when we finally made it to the Dungeon of Trials and they took my blindfold off. Oh yeah, they blindfolded me.” The broccoli was much better with salt, kidneys or not. “Everyone was wearing black robes, except for a few with red robes and one enormous guy in a gold robe, also they all wore either goat or wolf masks.”
Tina and the kids gasped.
“Someone took a bunch of my body measurements. They said it was to make some sort of ritual suit, and I will have to sign a non-disclosure agreement before they say what the suit is made of. So I can’t tell you.” Faye shrugged and popped another pizza bite, but Turner looked genuinely disappointed.
“Then I stood on a large round platter that wriggled back and forth, like the agitation cycles in a clothes washer. When it was done, they took my temperature every two minutes for about a half-hour.”
“Did they say anything?” Tina asked with wide eyes.
“No. Everyone spoke in muffled whispers, and it didn’t sound like English, or really any common language. It was more guttural, I guess?”
“What does guttural mean?” asked Faye.
“Means they sound like Aunt Phoebe,” said Turner, and they both snickered.
“Kids!” snapped Tina, then thought for a moment. “You’re not wrong, but still. Go on about the dungeon.”
“Then they had me go into a small tube and told me to crawl through it as fast as I could. So, I crawled through it as fast as I could. Mostly because something chased me, but the tube was too small to look back and see, and there were all these turns. Pass the ranch dressing, please.”
We all held up our forks and said “yay, ranch!” That’s a silly thing we do because we all love ranch dressing. “Once I got to the end of the tube I heard snarling and a loud clank, so maybe some sort of gate closed?”
Tina asked for the Ranch Dressing, and we again held up our forks and said “yay, ranch!” It never gets old. When I reached over to hand her the dressing, Tina saw all the bloody bandages on my forearm, and her eyebrows shot up. “What the hell are those?”
“Oh, that’s from the blood draws, and skin biopsies, and leeches.”
Tina asked, “Are you sure this job is safe?”
“I don’t know. The money would be nice. The base salary is six figures.”
Tina shook her head. “Well, I don’t know. This sounds pretty dangerous.”
“Plus five weeks paid vacation and 401k matching. AND, check this out, they do 100% employer matching on Faye and Turner’s college savings accounts. How cool is that? But like you said. It sounds pretty danger-“
Tina let out a squeal that startled us all, making Faye spill her water. “What?”
”Yeah, starting with my first paycheck.”
Tina was giddy. “What are you doing sitting here? Get off your ass and call whoever you need to and beg for that goddamn job!”
I tried calling, but got voicemail. It was a little hard leaving a serious message with the sight of Tina dancing in the kitchen. They called back the next day and said Dark Lord Blurezrk will select his offering within three days. But if I didn’t hear back after five business days to shoot Cassy an email.
Mani Acquisitions, Inc. wound up hiring someone else. It was probably a good thing, because they shut down after bodies started turning up. Oh, and Turner had also made a chocolate pudding for dessert that night, but we were out of Cool Whip, which was a shame.