The Interview

I memorized the waiting room safety poster.

"Send in the next victim, Mrs. Plumb."

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Flincher Snodgrass will see you now."

I sprang from my chair and burst through the door.

"Smorgasbord?"

"Pirouette Smorgasbord."

"Desired position?"

"Defenestration specialist."

"Qualifications?"

"I've been throwing things out windows all my life. I'm good. Favorite method is vehicular defenestration."

"Solid choice. That position is already filled."

"By who?"

"By me."

"What method do you prefer in a high-rise such as this one?"

"We're on the forty-seventh floor, so height is not a problem."

"Window open or closed?"

"Closed is more enjoyable for the defenestrator, but it creates a mess." Mr. Snodgrass scurried to the window. I joined. "The better choice is to open the window during setup."

I glanced through the window. "Sure is a long way down."

Mr. Snodgrass looked out, too. "Sure is."

He didn't see it coming. I threw Mr. Snodgrass out the window. Glass everywhere.

"Position just opened up," I said as he accelerated to his fate.

My title secured, I sauntered over to the desk, sat down, and pushed the intercom button on the phone. "Send in the next victim, Mrs. Plumb."

"Yes, Mr. Smorgasbord."