Guess This is Phase Two of Orientation?

"So okay, ritual complete blah blah blah welcome to Hell blah blah blah, what are we doing today?"

What are....wha? Oh fuck, did your head explode? If not, it has some serious explaining to do because you feel like legit shit. You try to lift your hands to your head and soothe this throbbing pain, but you can't seem to muster the, uh...body? You guess? Because outside of the ache around your brain pan and a general pins-and-needles tickling, like your foot has fallen asleep but across your entire being, you're not quite able to parse where you are. And not in the sense of "what is this place" (though you'd sure like to know that), but rather in the "Hey, I'm not certain I have arms or legs or bodies or et cetera anymore, am I a brain in a jar?" sense.

The sound of irritated snapping near what could be your face area brings you back into mildly groggy focus. "Hey, are we doing this contract or not, dumdum? Because I got places I could be."

Contract? Oh, what? So this is still about the job? Making a frankly inadvisable jump in reasoning, you decide that you must have been taken to some sort of medical center after you passed out, and now he company is finishing your orientation. It DOES strike you as a touch odd to try and get someone who's just regained consciousness too sign legal stuff. You can't even see yet; as far as you can tell you're just floating in some sort of endless darkness. But hey. You're fucking **** for a job.

You tentatively clear your throat, not sure if you're up to the task of speaking. You're a little surprised to hear your voice ring out clearly, but decide to just roll with it. "Oh! Oh, yes, um...well, yes. I'm, you know. Perfect for the job."

You can practically sense the voice of your interviewer disdainfully giving you a once over. "....well...ugh, look, fine. It's been slim pickings lately, anyway. So how much are you in for?"

That's a weird way of asking how many hours you're looking for. "As much as I can get."

The voice gives a flippant pssh. "Oh, look at the big man! Gonna take as much as he can get! Why the fuck should I give you the keys to the castle?"

Wow, this guy's a prick; you really hope he won't be your full time manager. It's really such a big deal to lock up the castle set overnight? "I can handle anything you give me. No question."

There is a long pause, and then you have the strange feeling that someone is starting to smile. A bit too widely, in fact, the pins-and-needles feeling is intensifying. "Well, well, well. Aren't you a peach. Okaaaay~, here's the deal. I'm gonna do it. You're getting the full package, all the perks, all of it."

Oh whoa, really?! This guy might be a dick but he's also a terrible negotiator; you have been pretty content with a fifteen minute break every day. Before you can heartily accept, though, the voice cuts back in. "But! We'd better get some real juicy material out of this. None of this fuckboy pussy stuff; we want some real Hieronymus Bosch type shit."

Whoa, he can actually talk to you that way? "Who?"

"Some reeeal David Cronenberg type shit."

"Uh, what?"

"Some..." the voice trails off before returning, exasperated. "Look asshole, is your answer yes or not?"

You've already resolved to ignore everything this guy wants you to do. "Okay okay, yes already!"

You sense the voice grinning again. "Dope.'

Whoa. You're getting a weird sense of finality from this. But you've still got one important question. "So hey wait is there an employee health plAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaa-!"

Sadly your question about copay is never answered, because mid sentence existence seems to give way underneath you. Your last thought before some inexorably **** grabs hold of you and drags you shrieking downward is that this is the weirdest interview you've ever been to.

You're still pretty psyched to have a job though. So overall, let's call it a B-.