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Monty Python's Final Exam

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This couldn't be the right place. Kay whipped out her cell and double checked the address. Same street, same number, far out in the warehouse district. She took the city bus as far as the route would take her, then spent the next forty minutes sweating through the armpits of her interview attire as she hoofed it here.

Now Kay stood before a nondescript brick of a building that ate up an entire block of space. It looked like a monolith of stone dropped out of the heavens by some behemoth presence. The warehouse district seemed to abhor its presence, the buildings themselves giving it a wide berth so that it sat, an island of bleached sandstone, the narrow window strips glittering like flecks of Formica across the face of the building. There was something ominous about that plain boxy building that sent a chill up her sweat slicked spine.

This was Fantasy Land INC? Nothing about this place matched the rainbows and sparkles of its advert. There was a chain-link fence surrounding the property with what looked suspiciously like a spiral of barbed wire atop it. The whole vibe screamed max security prison, not gimmicky theme park. Kay debated turning back to catch the bus home, but two things stopped her; Jess and money.

She couldn't mooch off her roomie forever and she would never be in the position to dig herself out of this hole if she didn't land a job. Sure, this place looked like the sort to leave with one less kidney and a wicked looking new scar, but what was a little organ loss if they paid her?

Kay inhaled. Her shoulders hunched inward as she crossed that wide empty space surrounding the building, until she reached the security checkpoint booth outside the only entrance she could see.

A bored looking security guard glanced up from what appeared to be a physics textbook, which possibly explained his slightly cross eyed expression, as it wasn't exactly light reading.

"Name, please," he said. Kay did a slight double take at his appearance. His uniform strained at the seams, particularly around his biceps and shoulders. There was a scroll-work of tattoos down his forearms and around his neck, including a faded black ink tear on his left cheek. Adversely, his voice was light, almost musical in tone, and pleasant to the ears. She wondered if he was part of the Second Chance Program.

She was staring. Kay chastised herself for the assumption. "Kay Oritz. I have an appointment at ten?"

He held up a finger and flipped through a ream of papers on a clipboard. Kay glimpsed the list of names. They expected that many people to come in today for interviews? Her stomach shrank as her prospects significantly narrowed.

"Ah yes, Ms. Oritz. I need you to sign the waiver," he said. He retrieved a piece of paper from a folder on his desk and pen and slid them across the counter between them.

"What? Waiver?" Kay scanned the document. "Excuse liability from bodily harm? What sort of interview process is this?"

The security guard tapped the paper with his forefinger. "Sign, please." There was a skull tattoo on his knuckle, leering at her. Kay waffled once again with the idea of heading back to the bus stop. Maybe she could get a job as one of those sign holders that stood on the sidewalk all day, slowly suffocating in a mascot suit. She gnawed her lip raw with indecision. Her interview was in ten minutes.

She made an audible whine as she signed the waiver. The security guard peeled it off the counter and tucked it into another folder. His name tag read Tyson. Cute. From beneath the desk, Tyson produced yet another folder, this one a cheery sky blue with the company logo emblazoned on it the front in silver and gold.

"Here's your introductory packet, Ms. Oritz. Head through the front doors and to the elevators to the left. Interviews are on floor five." He smiled then. There was a tattoo on his right canine of a tiny dagger. "Good luck."

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