"You think I could fit in that straw?"
Greg continues to explore between the cushions. It’s been weeks since he’s moved from the couch, surviving off found crumbs. Which is fine, but he’s getting annoying.
"Hey buddy, have you thought about getting a job?" I ask him.
He turns to me and his eyes light up.
"Damn straight I have!" He brushes a pubicly curly hair off himself. "I put in an application at this temp agency and I’m waiting for… actually, could you check the mail?"
I brought the mail in earlier and noticed a letter for Greg from an address I didn’t recognize. Also, he never gets mail, so that was strange in itself. I get up and get the letter from the kitchen counter.
"Yeah man, there’s something here for you, probably from them. Want me to open it?"
"Please, I don’t have the energy. Read it to me."
I open the letter and start, “‘Dear Mr. Earthstone’… Earthstone?”
"I liked how it sounded both contemporary and Dark Ages-y"
"You’re… ‘Thank you for submitting your application. After careful review of it and assessment of your qualifications, we believe the following available job opportunities are well suited to your abilities: shoelace’… Alright, this is…"
"I’m not long enough, next."
He’s too invested for me to convince him this is clearly some kind of insanely bizarre joke. So, on I soldier.
"Can’t hold my shape that long."
"Not hollow enough. Just send them this one."
"Michael Cera’s mustache."
"It’d be an improvement, but I couldn’t take being under that nose all day."
"I’ll sleep on that one. Aight, I’m gonna go cover myself in toothpaste. That shit’s inteeeense."