"Wake up, Martha!" my mother screamed from the bottom of the stairwell. "You've finally got a job offer!"
It was about time, I had been looking for a job for months, but wasn't having much luck getting one. I excitedly raced down the stairs, my heart throbbing like an erect penis. "This is it..." I thought to myself. "No more nagging from mom, no more living with mom, no more... Mom!" So, I have mommy issues, but who cares? I don't know a single person who doesn't have some sort of beef with their parents, so I assume it must be normal.
"So, ma, whats the job?" I asked, giddy to escape from my mother's clutches.
"A voice-over for a commercial." She groaned, obviously disappointed that the only job I could catch was a commercial voice-over.
"Somethings better than nothing, I guess. Right, Ma?"
"Whatever, heres the address."
"You're not dropping me off? I have to ride a fucking bike all the way there?"
"Watch your tone! And its not far, so quit whining."
I headed outside to grab my bike, muttering various obscenities under my breath. "Wow, a bike. How professional looking!" I snarled, hoping mom would hear. She didn't, or wasn't responding, so I took off. Mother may not have high hopes, but if the people who made this commercial get famous, they could make a series of commercials for me, and I'd be rolling in dough. Like Billy Mays.
I arrived at the "studio" and was on my way inside. I say "studio" because it looked more like a small house with a microphone or two set up than it did a studio. Once inside I was greeted by a rather large man and asked if I knew what to do.
"Just read the lines I'm given, right?"
"Yes, ma'am!" The large man giggled. "I'm Darrel, by the way."
"I'm Martha, nice to meet you." I shook Darrel's hand, after which he guided me to a seat.
"Sit down, I'll go grab the recording equipment." he excitedly squealed, I thought nothing of it.
He had a nice place. Small, sure, but it had a homely feel to it. It was like one of those stereotypical southwestern American homes, not the ones with animal heads mounted everywhere, but instead a nice, little quiet place, full of various nik-nacs and scenery paintings. Whatever nervous feelings I had were gone, I felt at peace with myself here.
Darrel came back with the recording equipment, handed me a script, and told me to do my thing.
"Stuffies are fun for the whole fam-"
"You don't sound... Hmm, somethings off." Darrel pondered.
"You want me to sound happier, maybe?" I questioned.
"Yeah, yeah. That's it."
"Stuffies are fun for the whole family. The best part-"
"NO! You don't sound like you'd have fun with Stuffies!"
"I'm sorry, may-"
"Shut up!" Darrel punched me. "We're getting this right, if I have to hurt you to do it, then fine."
Darrel grabbed me by the throat and demanded I keep reading.
"Stuf-f-fieees!" I coughed out, barely able to speak.
"Perfect. More!" Darrel screamed.
For the rest of the night he forced happiness out of me with his oddly hairy fist. The commercial was finally done, though. I could go home.
"You've got the voice of angel." Darrel said.
"Thanks... I'm gonna go now."
"Don't you want your pay?"
"No, no, you keep it."
"Are you sure?"
"Its fine, Darrel."
I headed outside, got on my bike, and pedaled away as fast as I could. Something felt off as I was biking, like there was something adorable and fluffy on my feet. I looked down, and there they were, firmly attached to each foot. A pair of Stuffies.