Jason stood at the entryway to the restaurant. He nervously paced around the patio of the building. Two marble gargoyles sat at the entrance, leering at him. Pure black obsidian cut through the fabric of Jason’s identity and deep, deep, into what one might call his soul. Jason moved out of the way. “Those gargoyles are creepy,” he thought.
His thought process was mostly descriptive. He didn’t have profound hypotheses or wild delusions about who he was or what he wanted to be. Jason just wanted to get this job at the restaurant he currently waited outside of.
Jason sat down on a bench. Why did he want the job?
Jason wanted to be able to look presentable to other families. He was tired of being invited into peoples’ home as a pittance. Jason knew this because he saw his other friends being selected all the time. Sometimes they would come back gleaming, talking about what a great time they had had at the Millers’. Sometimes they would come back smelling different. Food. Pets. Smoke. You name it, they smelled like it. And the character they came back with from these trips! A little more rugged, a little more comfortable with themselves. Jason longed to be comfortable with himself. He knew that conversations with people often revolved around occupations, so he figured that by having a job he’d be much more engaging.
Jason had always been insecure. He could never look in the mirror and be satisfied with how he looked. He was always off-color, and misshapen, flabby. The worst was mornings when he was green and noticed his wrinkles. Those were really tough.
It didn’t help that he never got to go to dinner parties or meet new people. Jason thought that by getting this job, he’d be more presentable, more attractive, and more likely to be selected for dinner.
The door to the restaurant opened. A beautiful woman peered her head out. “Jason? Management is ready to see you.”
She looked right past him. Of course. That’s what always happened. Jason managed to squeak out an “Okay I’ll be right in,” before getting up from the bench and walking towards the door. She had returned to the hostess podium.
The restaurant bustled with activity. People ordering, people taking orders, people cooking. The hostess motioned Jason back to the kitchen. He saw two men standing over a griddle. One was short and blonde and the other was tall with thin gray hair. Both were surprisingly skinny. Jason thought to himself, “Wow, those gals are too skinny for me.”
“Hi Jason, I’m Bronco, and this is Duke. Welcome to Culvers,” said the short blond one. Bronco. His name was Bronco. Jason could never remember people’s names. “Nice to meet you, Bronco. I’m really excited to be here.”
"Great of you to be here," Duke was saying now. "We love the chance to have someone like you working the kitchen. Stuff like this picks up a ton of business."
Jason didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t respond at all.
“For your interview, we’re simply asking that you make a grilled cheese. We’ll eat it after, and if we like it, you’ll have a job. Sound good?”
Jason nodded, and started making a grilled cheese. He started with the bread. He buttered both sides, and put them on the griddle. Then he reached for some cheese. The cheese was behind the griddle. He got a little too close to the griddle, and burned himself. “Oh no,” he thought. “That is not a good look for an interview.”
But that was the least of Jason’s worries. The burn on his waist was hurting more and more. Intense pain. He looked down. It was orange! He was on fire!
“Oh no,” he thought, “This must look really bad for me.” Jason continued to burn. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would based on the first few seconds. A few minutes later and there was nothing left.
Jason had been, for almost his entire life, a green dress. In his last moments he was reduced to a pile of ash.
Bronco looked on, disappointed but not shocked. “What a shame. This one had real potential.”
“Yeah. We should starting thrifting our new chefs.”