In a mental asylum. Two men sit.
“Grace. Do you possess grace, young man?”
“Do you or do not you? Grace! Is it in you?”
“I have grace! Yes, I have it!”
“How do you feel this interview is going, so far?”
“Er… good? Good. Good!”
“Where’s that grace you claimed to have?”
“Right here! You’re lookin’ at grace!”
“How bad do you want this job, Grace?”
“Like super, crazy bad. I have grace. I’m not Grace.”
The interviewer reaches under his desk. He pulls out a small plastic bag. It is filled with lipstick and other assorted makeup.
“Do you have a favorite color, young man?”
“Sure do. I’m a green kinda guy.”
“That’s disappointing. We discourage the enjoyment of color here. And green is particularly heinous.”
“I don’t like green! Honestly, all colors are ugly! Grace! Poise!”
“Will you wear this?” The interviewer is holding pink lipstick. He wiggles it in his fingers.
“I would love to! I forgot to wear lipstick this morning, as a matter of fact!”
“I’m sorry it’s not green. You know, your favorite color.”
“I don’t have a favorite color! I don’t remember saying that! Colors are lame! And so passé! Gimme the lipstick!”
The interviewer passes the lipstick to the young man. The young man slathers it on his lips.
“I’m not sure if that color gives you grace, but you sure look like a dime store whore! Ha!”
“I can eat twenty live pigeons in under five minutes! I need this job!”
“Are you or will you ever be a pharmacist? Or a horse tamer?”
“What ever you need, Boss!”
“Not your boss yet. Calm down, you graceless witch.”
The young man is glistening with sweat. “I have grace!” He hiccups, and cries.
The interviewer holds out his hand. “Kiss my rings, Grace.”
Kiss kiss kiss, the young man kisses the rings and holds the interviewer’s hand. He cuddles it close.
“Okay, that’s quite enough. You’re going to soak my hand.”
“I love you.”
“What would you say makes you stand apart from your competition?”
“Well. Hmm. I’m a strong leader and I don’t like to give up. I like to see the job done, thoroughly.”
“Good, good. Always looking for competency.”
“I’m also never lazy, and I will never practice witchcraft.”
“This is all such nonsense. But. I suppose you’re hired.”
“Can I have an office on the top floor?”
“You can have my office.”
The two men shake hands. The interviewer’s, wet and covered in pink lipstick.