Poetry by Dythandra

In Pursuit of Filthy Lucre

Your dad's bonus didn't come through
And money's going to be a little... tight.

I'd always thought myself above such...
Mundane concerns.

I'd sneered at their attempts to bribe me,
To change my wardrobe or my hair.
Blackmail's more my thing--they cave so easily.

This was different, though--they were... embarassed.
Twas not a total surprise--they'd been hinting for a while.

When I was your age, I had a job.

With that kind of early start,
You'd think you'd be further ahead

Money doesn't grow on trees, you know

Maybe not, but I've got some friends
Who grow it on smaller plants

When the cash flow ends, I get creative.
Mommy dearest's empties
Bring me enough cash
To keep black nail polish in supply.

Still, it's not enough
For even my meagre expenses
So I finally deign
To scan the "Help Wanted".

It's lucky--call it that if you must--
That the job market is such
That demand makes employers
Look past my fashion sense.

I try telemarketing first.
They don't see me; I don't see them.
Win-win for all.

That one lasts two weeks.
Seems that my prospective customers
Found my unsolicited pitches for carpet cleaning
A little sarcastic.

I feign surprise when my pimply supervisor
Confronts me about my claim that
"We suck more than any company in town".
We clean carpets--of course we suck
Or at least, I'd guess you do.

No resume construction there.

My next opportunity--the perfume counter
At the entrance to the deparment store.

Apparently some poor manager misread my look
As young, hip, "trendy'.
I suppose misanthropy does make the disdained
Try a little harder.

I was to wear the outfit--black skirt, white blouse
And the--I shudder--pastel apron.
Then spray samples on prospective customers
Who happened by.

They were no fun--"Ask permission" they warn.
I tried that
But too many glanced in my eyes,
Then, instincts trained from avoiding predators,
Through eons of evolution,
Warn them away.

Mothers clutch children,
One complains I'm spraying "witch water"
Another simply screams.

That dismissal was more fun.
They wouldn't look me in the eyes,
But I got two weeks severance.

Still, that money won't last forever,
And I've underground music and comics to buy.

Perhaps it's time to visit my friends at the tattoo parlour
And see if my fake ID
And love of skulls
Can start me down a real career path.

Plus how can the parentals complain?
Think of all the money
My staff discount will save...