Friday Flash Fiction: The Agency

The idea for this one came out of a conversation I had last weekend with a friend who asked what I wanted in a minion. Yes, I love my friends. If you know of any minions looking for work, please direct them my way. I promise I'll be nice to them as long as they behave.

This week has been insane with regard to work and getting ready for vacation, so I apologize to those whose #FridayFlash stories I didn't get to read and comment on yet from last week. I'm going to try to catch up soon.

The Agency

"What are you looking for in a minion?" Forrest raised his eyebrows and invited the individual across from him to impress him with something witty, clever, and original.

Instead, the dour man with the black lipstick and fingernails and raven feathers woven in his long, stringy hair said, "Unquestioning obedience."

"I've heard that before." Forrest added a cheerful upswing to "that" in his tone to make it sound less flippant. "Let me see what I can do to find you the perfect one. Will this assistant need to have any special skills?"

"Some rudimentary chemistry knowledge and a love of Edgar Allen Poe, Mary Shelley, and Bram Stoker." He shifted in his seat, and his long, charcoal-colored robe rustled.

"Ah, the classics!" Forrest tapped on his black (of course) keyboard and picked at a piece of feather that had drifted to land on his grey sweater vest while the profiles loaded. The Minion Placement Agency had a policy that their employees were never to look more threatening than the clients.

This particular client raised his eyebrows and inclined his head. Forrest surmised that he lacked a sense of humor, so that was noted in his profile. That would greatly reduce the intelligence quotient of whoever was placed with him. Smart minions needed someone who could joke with them.

"This will just take a few moments, Mr. Raven," Forrest said. "Could I have someone fetch you some coffee?"

"Yes. Black. Decaf."

Forrest nodded to Jeanine, the secretary who hovered nearby. Really, she was his boss, but they had to put on appearances. For female clients, they'd trade places, and Jeanine would even whip him a little.

"One coffee!" She smiled and handed the cobalt mug to Mr. Raven.

"It's decaf, right?"

"Oh, I forgot. It will take me a moment to brew a fresh pot. Is that okay?"

"No, Jeanine, it is NOT okay." Forrest rose to his feet and held his breath so that his face would turn red faster. "What kind of impression are you giving this gentleman of our organization? You can't even fetch coffee!"

"Really, it's okay, I can wait," Mr. Raven said.

"No, it is unacceptable! You're fired, young lady! I cannot deal with this gross incompetence."

"No, don't do that!' Mr. Raven stood to block Jeanine, who cowered away from Forrest's purported rage. "It's not her fault. You're being too hard on her!"

"Well, if it's okay with you, Mr. Raven," Forrest said and took a deep breath. The computer crowed to let him know it was done searching. "Ah, here we go. I'm sorry, we don't have anyone with the skills you're looking for right now." He smiled and mopped his brow with a white handkerchief. "Please forgive my outburst. We'll keep your requirements on file and let you know if we have someone come in who'd be a good fit for you."

After Mr. Raven left, Jeanine looked at Forrest and said, "Unquestioning obedience, my ass."

Forrest nodded. He noted Mr. Raven's reaction in the profile. "He was just a big old softy at heart. It's nice to know that whoever he gets will be going to a good home."

"Stop being so sentimental, Forrest. Run the search for real, and then fetch me a bagel."

"Yes, ma'am." Once again, Forrest hoped his profile would pop up as a match, but he knew he was too smart to be happy with Mr. Raven, who still lacked a sense of humor no matter how kind he would be. Forrest wouldn't be able to switch minionhood that easily, at least not this minute, but there was a Lady Sinestra coming in later...