The New Job

The Job of a Lifetime

        Light cut through my closed eyes and muffled noises made their way to my hearing. I pass in and out of consciousness, vaguely registering someone moving me from place to place, and voices yelling at each other. I feel as though I'm being carried and try to open my eyes, barely seeing a pink silhouette before passing out one final time.

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        I finally crack open my eyes and immediately wince and close them from the stabbing light. After a moment, I strain my hearing to see if anyone else was in the room. After a few moments of hearing nothing, I try again to open my eyes, this time giving myself a moment to adjust to the brightness. I look around to take in the room around me, being surprised at my surroundings.

        There are other hospital beds to both my left and right, all empty with clean white sheets covering them. A slow beeping cuts through my hearing, drawing my attention to the heart monitor at the side of my own bed. Standing next to it is an IV drip, the line leading down into my arm. I try to push myself up, wincing as every muscle in my body screams in discomfort. Collapsing back down, I groan quietly in pain.

        "Please, try not to move. You've sustained multiple injuries, including a broken arm and a concussion. I've only just gotten you all patched up," Comes a deep voice from the end of the room.

        My heads shoots up in shock at the sudden sound in the almost quiet room. Standing in the doorway was a man wearing blue scrubs and long doctors coat, a glinting silver head mirror strapped to his forehead. I furrow my eyebrows, confused.

        I speak up, realizing how thirsty I am as my words come out raspy, "Where am I? What happened?"

        He started walking towards me, coming to a rest at my side, checking on my IV as he talks, "I'm afraid that one of my associates has-"

        Suddenly, another, booming voice came from the doorway, causing me to cringe at the ringing it caused in my head, "Well, looks like our little speed bump is awake!"

        A loudly dressed man, who oddly resembled the doctor standing next to me, is leaning on the door frame. What struck me was his mustache, a bright cotton candy pink that matched his suspenders. His accent is oddly slurred and drawn out, but he doesn't look drunk. He sauntered, actually sauntered, over to stand next to the doctor. I didn't think people actually did that.

I am pulled out of my thoughts by the doctor loudly sighing and turning to the pink man, "Wilford, haven't you caused her enough distress for one day?"

"Oh, please. If she can survive being hit by a car then she'll survive me dying to have conversation," Wilford said, tugging on his suspenders before snapping them back.

"Excuse me," I croaked, "But what the heck is going on?"

"Well, this may be hard to hear," Started the doctor, looking very serious, "I'm sorry, you're dying."

"What!?" I yelped, sitting up despite everything in my body screaming at me to stop.

Wilford rolled his eyes dramatically, "Don't listen to him, he says that all the time. He's only right half the time."

        I shake my head, trying to make sense of the situation, which was difficult, "Wait, what's going on? What happened? Who are you people?"

        The two men looked at each other before the doctor shrugged, "You're the one that hit her with a car, you get to tell her." He turned back to me once more, "My name is Doctor Iplier. If you need anything just hit that button and I'll come in."

        With that he walked out of the room leaving me alone with the pink mustached man named Wilford. There was a moment of awkward silence before I decided to speak up.

        "Did you really hit me with a car?"

        "Well if we want to look at the the bad details of this situation, then yes. But hey, look on the bright side..." He trailed off, looking for something to say. I waited a moment, before frowning. "Ok, so, there aren't any that I can think of right now, but that doesn't mean they don't exist!"

        I put my face in my hands and groaned, "This was already the worst day ever. I woke up late, failed another interview, and got his by a car. I just can't get a break."

        Wilford seemed to perk up at the mention of my job interview, suddenly looking less downtrodden, "Well hey! Now there's something I can fix! We here at the Manor are looking for a new secretary, after the last one had a little... Accident. You're hired!"

        "Wait," I stopped him, "don't I need to have an interview? Or something like that?"

        "Well, I did kinda sorta hit you with my car. It's the least I could do! Plus, if you survived that, it means you might have a chance of making it here!"

        "O-ok? I don't know what that means exactly but I definitely need a job. What would I be doing?"

        "Oh, you know, work our schedules out, make appointments, help keep some of the occupants of the Manor in line, occasionally hide dead bodies, and just generally doing things around the office we need to get done. It pays well too," he rattled off casually while pacing around the foot of my bed. The man couldn't seem to stand still, always fidgeting with his hands or shifting on his feet.

        I chuckled a bit, finding his jokes about dead bodies oddly placed but funny. I thought about it for a moment. On one hand, I needed the job if I wanted to continue living under a roof. On the other hand, I was being offered a job from a man who hit me with his car. I still don't know how I feel about that. In the end, however, my need of a house won out against my somewhat common sense.

        I stuck out my hand to shake on it, trying to be as professional as I could sitting in a hospital bed with a broken arm. "My name's Sawyer Jones, I'd love to have the opportunity to work for you.

        He smiled even wider than before with a twinkle in his eye, "Wilford Warfstache, welcome to Ego Manor."

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Woo hoo! Got the second chapter up and Sawyer got a job. Likes are cool if you enjoyed reading it! Thanks everyone!