Long Pants Lady: A Soap Opera

  I
Long Pants Lady is back.
Pants so long, face so pretty
I want to eat her like I would a mushroom. 

“Hey! I’m looking for a job, the attendant sent me this way.”
Heart racing, mouth dry,
Words fail me,
But she patiently waits a response.
“I... can take care of that.”
She hands me the paper.
“We’ll call you back.”
She bows in thanks and leave. 

Blood is pumping through my veins at such fast speed they’re sore.
My face, I’m sure, is burning red
Cause Jonas looks at me like he’s seen a ghost.
I feel light-headed and trip over vases and chairs on my way to get water.
This feeling is like a bus I won’t be able to salsa-waltz click-clack off of. 

  II
— Whaaaaaat?
— I know, right?
— But-but-but...
— Yes, Jonas, I know.
— Are you sure I’m not dreaming?
— Want me to pinch you?
— No thanks. But like, are you sure sure?
— Yes, you saw how I got earlier.
— Oh, my, Annie... This might be it!
— Be what?
— Your chance. 

  III
   “I’m his golden girl, what could go wrong?” Is what I repeat to myself over and over on my way to the 'oval office'". Boss doesn’t like to be disturbed, but this is a life-or-death situation.
   “Knock, knock”, I say as I open the door.
   “Who’s there?”, the big man responds.
   “Not Lucy...”, I answer with the yellowest of smiles.
   Boss looks at me like he’s already read on my face what I was about to say, but gives me a chance anyway.
   “So, big guy! Fancy seeing you here!”
   “Spill it, Anastasia.”
   “Oh, well. So... This girl showed up today, and she’s really cute...”
   “No.”, he cuts me right there on the spot.
   “But you didn’t even let me finish.”
   “Inês has done the same thing before, trying to catch tail, and the motherfucker burned this place down.”
   And once again I turned redder than a beetroot. “But I ain’t catching no tail, dude! Fuck off!”, I said in a desperate attempt of not making it too obvious that he was right.
   “It’s on the darn rule book, Annie. You of all people should know that.”
   “But I...”
   “No buts. There’s plenty of dykes for you on tinder or something, and your job is not a matchmaking app. And that’s final”, he said, pushing me through the door. “Now go to work!” 

   My eyes watered as I dropped to my knees after the door was slammed behind my back. Honestly, that was it, the end of me; once more hope was lost on my end, and my patched up heart fell again and shattered into a million pieces. Jonas was quick to the rescue, peeping the whole scene from a distance.
   “Don’t worry, sweetie. Everything will be alright”, he said, comforting me in my misery. I felt like a pubescent teenager healing my broken heart with tears.

  IV
— You know what? It’s not over yet.
— Don’t even try me with your bull crap. I’m fine.
— No, you’re not.
— Yes, I am. Let’s grab some lunch.
— No, I have a plan for you.
— Yes, sure, of course you have a plan.
— Don’t be a bitch, listen up. 

  V
   Who would’ve thought, huh? Jonas actually had a card up his sleeve, and now here I am, waiting for the lady in long black pants, at the bistro beside the bureau. Jumping to the conclusion that I had to get her hired to have a chance, I forgot I could just call the number in the resumé and ask for a date. She wasn’t supposed to accept so fast, though, and I’m afraid she thinks this is a job interview. But who cares, right? 

  VI
   Well, she cares. The date did not go as planned, starting with the lack of long black pants in the equation. She showed up in a short dress that instantly turned me off, but not wanting to make it apparent, I tried my best to present myself in the most interesting way possible, until she said that “feels like this is getting too personal for a job interview”, and I replied with “it’s not a job interview. It’s a date, boss doesn’t want you in the office”, and she was like “what?!”, and I said “oh, I thought you knew...” And that, right there, was the end of the date. She also said that she’s not into girls and to please never call her again, before leaving the whole check for me to pay. 

  VII
   Guess that’s it, I tripped over a naughty tree root that, even if momentarily felt like something else, was just an unfortunate mishap that got me face down on the ground, again. And maybe I just can’t help it, maybe it’s me, Mrs. Lonely, Mrs. no luv. No heart’s pierced by my arrow, unlucky romantic surrounded by stone golems. 

The End.