“Right, who’s next on the list?”
I checked the list of interviewees and looked at the headmaster, “An F. Mercury.”
“Pity he’s not applying for a job in the science department,” Barry smirked, laughing at his own joke.
I ignored him and instructed our next candidate to enter the room. His appearance took me by surprise.
Standing in front of me was a muscular man with jet black hair and the most perfectly coiffed moustache I’d ever seen. Most candidates had enough sense to wear a suit to interview, yet the man before us stood in nothing but a faded pair of ripped jeans and a tight white vest that clung to his muscular chest. The part I found hardest to accept was the item in his hands. It looked as if he were carrying a microphone on a thin metal rod.
I stared at him for a number of moments until I regained enough sense to realise that I was meant to be interviewing him.
“Please take a seat, Mr Mercury. How are you today?”
He looked at me then strutted toward the seat I offered him, prancing as if he were on a stage.
“If I’m being honest, I’m feeling a little under pressure,” he replied, before adding, “Badda, badda, ehhhhhh-ohhhh!”
He looked expectantly at me, as if he wanted me to repeat what he’d just said.
Flustered, I tried to regain my composure. “What makes you think that you’re well suited to this role?”
He gave me a toothy grin. “Well, it’s been a hard life and for it I have one vision. Being a school teacher is a kind of magic and even when you feel you’re going slightly mad, well, I guess the show must go on.”
His answer left me flummoxed. I opened my mouth to respond when he shot from the chair and strutted like a peacock around the room.
“When you’re looking for a breakthrough, there isn’t any time for innuendo. Rather like some fat bottomed girls, I’d teach the students about this crazy little thing called love. Because, you know, I’m a good old-fashioned lover boy. And all kids love to play the game, don’t they?”
“Um, Mr Mercury. You do realise this is an interview for the role of a music teacher?”
He looked at me with mirth in his eyes. “Of course, darling, I’m not stone cold crazy! I’d tell the students to spread your wings and fly away. These are the days of our lives, after all.”
He paused as another thought occurred to him. “Nothing really matters, anyone can see. Nothing really matters to me.”
With the flick of the wrist and a flash of a smile, he was gone.
“What in the hell was that?” I muttered to myself.
Barry must have heard me.
“You know, Betty, I actually quite like him.”
I only hoped the others weren’t worse. We’d need a miracle to get through this.
This was written in response to Thain in Vain’s Week 32 prompt: A celebrity of your choice (alive or dead) applies for a job and gets an interview.