Writer's Cramp Entry; 525 words.

Dear diary,

         Finally home after first day at the new job.  I was a little late because I couldn’t find a taxi to take me all the way there.  I had to get out at the bottom of the hill and ride in a black coach the rest of the way.  When I finally got there, I met the guy I’m replacing, Igor.  Funny, he didn’t look Russian.  It was apparently his responsibility to “train” me.  He showed me around, and explained what all the equipment was.  Well, sort of.  There was a center table on which sat several beakers and burners, connected with glass tubes that bubbled  and steamed.  When I asked what they were for, he just shrugged and said, “They bubble and steam.”  There was also a very complicated looking contraption that he referred to simply as “the machine that goes ‘Buzz!’”  He did show me, however, how to pull the chain and lift the slab to the hole in the roof.  Also, I learned how to apply labels to the glass jars on the shelf and how to fill them with formaldehyde.  The most important part of my job, apparently, is “throwing the switch.”  There’s a huge, old-style, electrical switch on one wall, and I have to take the handle and move the switch from bottom to top; but only when the boss tells me to.  Igor had me do it like thirty times, to “practice.”     
 
         I got lost after lunch.  I was dusting one of the sconces near a bookcase, and the next thing I know, instead of being in the study, I’m in this dark, dank passage at the top of a descending stone staircase.  And boy, did it smell nasty down there.  Luckily, Igor saw it happen, and rescued me.  He told me not to use those stairs, as that’s where the “moat monster” is kept.  I didn’t ask what that meant.

         I cleaned out some rat cages, and near the end of the day, I finally met the boss.  He seems nice enough, though a little distracted.  I guess, running an operation like that, he’s got a lot on his mind.  He kept muttering and chuckling to himself as he puttered around, adjusting dials and pouring chemicals.  He didn’t talk much to me, though he did ask if I had my own shovel, and if I could work the “graveyard shift” on Thursday.  He and Igor found that uproariously funny for some reason. 

         They are going to have to order a new unifrom for me, though.  Unfortunately, my predecessor is quite a bit shorter than I am.  And all the white coats have been specially tailored to accommodate his hump.  They really just look silly on me.

                The weirdest thing, however, is the name tag I was given just before quitting time.  It reads “Igor.”  I said that wasn’t my name, but my trainer said it didn’t matter.  It turns out that my trainer’s name is actually Steve, but the boss has always called him “Igor.”  Igor/Steve says “It’s just one of those things. “
         
                Honestly, diary, I’m starting to hope Wall-Mart calls about that job as a greeter. 


525 Words.