Skeetch
A Beyond Recognition Production.
Starring: 40oz, Eugene, and Skeetch!
Forty rolled his eyes, and looked over at Eugene, who sat beside him behind the large oak desk in Forty's office. “How many more of these interviews do we need to do? This is boring.” The hyena lamented, prodding the small wallaby in the shoulder.
Eugene jumped at the poke and sighed unhappily, shuffling through the large pile of applications that littered the desk. “Well, Mr. Forty, we've gone through eleven applicants so far and I just don't feel that any of them so far have possessed the necessary job related skills required to fill the the position here at the company.”
Forty was leaning back in his chair and fidgeting with the buttons on his pressed white shirt. “Do you think this tie makes me look fat?” Forty asked, gesturing to the red tie he was wearing.
Eugene peered over at Forty with a look of confusion. “Mr. Forty, have you been paying attention to anything I've been saying pertaining to this position we're trying to fill here at the company? A job that you insisted that we needed for some reason.”
Forty shook his head. “Nope, and please, call me Forty.”
“I just did.” said Eugene, looking rather confused.
Forty straightened his tie and leaned uncomfortably close to Eugene. Reaching up, he traced a finger along the collar of Eugene's red Hawaiian shirt. “How about we skip this silly job interview shit and I buy us some KFC, and me and your sexy little wallaby ass go and discuss business over a bottle of Black Velvet at my place?” Forty leaned over a little further and licked one of Eugene's ears, causing the wallaby to recoil quickly with a loud squeak.
“Gaaah! Mr. Forty! I have already explained to you -- many times, I might add -- that your near-daily sexual advances towards me are not reciprocated and quite unwelcome.”
Forty leaned back in his chair and sighed loudly, rolling his eyes. “Awww. Come on, I can't help it. You're just so fuckin' adorable. Besides, we had so much fun that one time.”
Eugene reached up and began rubbing his ears nervously. “Mr. Forty, I was in an emotionally vulnerable state at the time due to the stressful events of that day, as you remember. You decided to take advantage of that and got me inebriated to the point of a blackout, and sexually assaulted me, which -- I might add -- I could report you to the authorities for.”
Forty slouched down in his chair dejectedly and pouted. “Fiiiiiine... You're no fun Eugene, you know that? You know, though... There might be a nice bonus in it for you? Eh?” Forty perked up his ears.
Eugene stared at him with a look of abject disbelief. “Mr. Forty, you're quite disturbed, do you realize this?”
Forty nodded and smiled, showing off a wide row of large, sharp hyena teeth. “Yup. Completely aware of this. But it's not my fault. You just get me all hot and bothered.”
Eugene shuddered and picked up an application from the desk. “Uhhhh. Yeah... How about we get back to interviews so we can get this day finished up, shall we?” Eugene put on a small pair of black reading glasses and inspected the application he had picked up. He quickly reached over and pushed a button on the intercom sitting on Forty's desk while the Hyena went back to playing with his tie. “Mr. Gerhardt, could you please send in a Mr. Matthias Skeetch?”
The intercom gargled a few seconds later with a strange, raspy moan, “UuuuuhhhhhhhHHH...”
Eugene closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I will never get used to that thing working here.”
Forty prodded Eugene in the shoulder again. “Hey, that thing is DJ, and he was working here long before you. And, I might add, that just because he is living-impaired, doesn't make him a bad employee.”
Eugene shook his head. “Whatever.”
The door slowly opened and a male opossum slowly stuck his head in and looked at them, one yellow eye looking directly at them, the other, an off-green color, was looking in a slightly different direction. He smiled and pushed the door the rest of the way open. The possum stood in the doorway smiling, obviously not dressed for a job interview. He was clad in a ripped pair of jeans and a sleeveless flannel shirt. A tangled mess of green dyed hair stuck out from under the greasy, stained, brown trucker hat he was wearing. He waved at Forty and Eugene. “Hiya, ummm.. is this the interview place fer that Special Effects job?”
Eugene signed and put his head down on the desk as Forty stared intently at the possum. “Yeah.. Sure is, why don't you come over here and have a seat?” Forty said.
The possum quickly made his way over and sat down in a chair across the desk from them. As he did the distinct smell of burnt fur and gunpowder wafted across the table to Forty and Eugene. Eugene sat back up and looked at the possum. “So... Mister... Skeetch, is it? What umm... What credentials do you currently have that you feel qualify you for--”
“Dude, what the fuck is up with your eye?” Forty interrupted him, pointing at Skeetch's green eye that had wandered off and was looking in a different direction.
Eugene turned quickly to Forty. “Mr. Forty, that is a highly inappropriate question.” He turned quickly back to Skeetch. “I'm very sorry, Mr. Skeetch.”
Skeetch laughed and shook his head slightly, causing his eye to straighten back out. “Oh it's fine. Haha, it wanders off sometimes. It ain't mine so it don't fit all that well.”
Eugene sat blank faced, staring at Skeetch. “Wait... Not... Yours...? Excuse me?”
Skeetch reached up and popped the fake eye out of it's socket and showed it to them. “Yeah, It's my grandpa's. My family couldn't afford one fer me when I done shot myself in the eye with a nailgun on accident, so m’grandpa gave me one of his fake’uns. So it don't fit all that well 'cause he gots a smaller eye I guess.”
Eugene's jaw dropped. “That... That is disgusting.”
Forty's eyes lit up. “ Whoa...! That is so fucking cool! Can I see it?” He blurted, reaching over the desk.
Skeetch chuckled and handed the fake eye to Forty. “Sure man, here ya go. Check it out. Pretty cool, huh?”
Forty held the fake eye up and inspected it, marveling over it. He lifted it up to his nose and smelled it and started laughing. Eugene clamped both his paws over his muzzle and gagged as Forty smelled the eye. “Hahaha!! Aww dude, it smells so weird!” He said, handing it back to Skeetch, who was also laughing.
“Yeah, I know righ'? It smells like deli slicer that ain't been cleaned in awhile.”
Eugene waved his paws. “Okay! Okay! Okay! Enough, I'm gonna be sick. Can we please get on with the interview?”
Skeetch popped his fake eye back in and straightened back up in his seat. “Yes sir. What, uhh... What was the question again?”
Eugene tried to regain his composure. “What credentials do you currently have that you feel qualify you for the described job here with our company?”
Skeetch took on a slight look of concern. “Umm... I don't think my credit is all that good I don't think. Do y'all look that up? 'Cause I did get into some trouble a while back with some IRS fellers that come out to the house an' sayin' somethin' 'bout not payin' taxes but I told them-”
“No. Not your credit. Your credenti-- Okay. What special skills do you have that you feel make you a good special effects artist for us to hire here at Beyond Recognition? Mr. Skeetch, do you have any experience or training in this job field?”
Skeetch rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. Oh yeah... Tons! I uhh... I watch lots and lots of horror movies, like, the good ones with tons of blood and guts in 'em an' shit. Lemme think here... I build bombs in my mom's garage outta spray paint cans and stuff. Oh! And I race RC monster trucks, which don't sound all that exciting but sometimes they crash and catch fire an' shit, which is pretty cool to see.”
Eugene tapped his pen on the desk and shook his head slowly. “Yeah... Okay, well... I don't think that's exactly what we're looking for.,” he noted, as Skeetch's smile slowly turned into a frown as his ears lowered. The opossum looked down at the desk dejectedly. “Thanks for coming in though, and we'll be sure to give you a call if anything else comes--”
“Hang on a second.” Forty interrupted.
Skeetch's ears perked back up.
Forty picked up Skeetch's application and looked it over, seeming deep in thought. After a few moments he looked up at Skeetch, who immediately smiled widely. Forty set the application down on the desk and folded his hands in front of him on the desk before speaking. “Mr. Skeetch, what would you say if I asked you, on a scale of one to ten: How attractive am I?”
Eugene, completely silent, slowly turned and stared at Forty, a look of total disbelief on his face. Skeetch rubbed his chin and looked Forty over. “Hmmm... Could you maybe stand up and turn around a little?”
Forty got up and did a little spin and sat back down and smiled. “What do you think?”
Skeetch furrowed his brow and chewed on his lower lip slightly. “Hmmm... I dunno. Hard to tell. I think... I'd say about a 7.”
Forty beamed happily and reached across the desk to shake Skeetch's paw. “Congratulations, Skeetch; you're hired. Welcome to the Beyond Recognition crew as the head of our Special Effects department.”
Skeetch shook Forty's paw happily. “Awww man! This is great! Thanks Mr. Forty! You will not regret this! I can tell we're gonna be the best of buddies in no time. I can't wait to meet the rest of the crew!” As Skeetch stood up, the door to the office opened and two police officers entered the room, a German Shepherd and a warthog.
The German Shepherd made his way quickly to Skeetch, putting a paw on his shoulder, grabbing his arm with the other paw. As this happened, the warthog spoke into his radio microphone oh his jacket. “Dispatch, this is two seventeen. We have the driver in custody.”
Skeetch grinned sheepishly at Forty and shrugged as the two police officers proceeded to handcuff his paws behind his back and search him. “I hope this isn't a bad way to start off at a new job. Heh. No worries though! I'll see you guys in two to four weeks. I'll give ya a call when I get out. And thanks again fer the job. I got a feelin' Imma love workin' here. Have a great afternoon!” Skeetch yelled his goodbyes over his shoulder as the two police officers escorted him out, reading him his Miranda Rights.
Forty looked at Eugene who had his head on the desk buried in his arms. “See Eugene? Skeetch thought I was good looking; what the hell is your problem? Man, I like that guy. Nice personality and probably a good work ethic. Hard to find nowadays. And how cool is that fake eye, huh? Hope he gets out soon.”
Eugene sat up slowly and stared at the ceiling with a blank, thousand yard stare. “I'm in Hell. I have died, and now I am in Hell...”
Forty patted Eugene on the shoulder. “Oh, it's not that bad, buddy. Come on, let's go do lunch at the Pierogi Palace, my treat!”
Eugene sighed. “Alright, that sounds good.”
