Gina entered the darkened room and hesitantly sat down on the red cushioned chair that she assumed had been placed there for her.

“Who said you could sit down?” barked a confident voice from in front of her. Gina stood quickly, staring fretfully across at the dimly lit desk in front of her that was covered with pieces of paper, and the three people who sat behind it; two males and a female.

“We won’t attract anyone if you keep speaking to them like that.” said the female, scolding one of her male counterparts. “But it is true,” she said, turning back to face Gina. “No one told you that you could sit down. Anyway, I’m Melissa and this is Elliot and Jethro. Your name’s…” she looked down at a sheet of paper in front of her. “Gina, correct?”

Gina nodded as she timidly sat back down on the chair.

“Nodding never got a response out of Louis Braille so it won’t be getting one out of me either.” said the confident male who Melissa had introduced as Jethro. He was dressed in a dark, expensive looking pinstripe suit and wore a pair of tinted aviator glasses despite the darkness of the room.

“What my colleague is trying to say is that there’s no need to be so nervous.” said the other male, Elliot, who wore a green turtleneck. “Don’t be afraid to speak.”

“I can’t help it. It’s just this whole darkened room has put me a bit on edge.” replied Gina.

“I know, isn’t it fantastic?” smirked Jethro. “It was all my idea; much like that death-ray I built. Oh, that was an educational fortnight for all involved.”

“So tell us a bit about yourself, Gina.” said Melissa, whose outfit was outlandish and neo-modern to say the least. “Say as little or as much as you like.”

“Well, I don’t know where I should begin-” said Gina.

“Indecisive.” murmured Jethro as he quickly picked up a pen and jotted something down.

“What was that?”

“Oh nothing, Miss Gina,” said Jethro, folding his arms and leaning back. “Please continue.”

“Okay…um, I’m twenty-one and I grew up in Adamstown and I’ve just moved out of home-”

“Do you mind just telling us about your personal traits?” interrupted Elliot. “It’s what we’re most interested in, plus we’re behind schedule as it is.”

“Oh right, sorry….um, well I guess I’m friendly and kind…and my mum always says I’m a quiet achiever-”

“Why don’t you tell us about some of your achievements?”

“Um, alright….well, this one time, I was nominated for an award.”

A silenced followed as Gina sat with her hands clamped between her knees as Melissa, Elliot and Jethro stared at her, not aware that she had just used a full stop.

“Right,” said Melissa, dragging the word out. “Did you win this award?”

“No.” answered Gina.

“So your achievement was getting nominated?”

“Yes.”

Another silence drifted past as Gina continued to receive stares form the three occupants of the table.

“Are you Polish?” asked Jethro, breaking the silence.

“Um…no, why?”

“No reason I suppose.”

“Okay, I guess that concludes our interview,” said Elliot standing up and throwing his hand out to shake Gina’s.

“What? It’s over already?” said Gina in confusion. “But I’ve still got lots of stuff to tell you.”

“Yes, and I’m sure that it would be as equally riveting as what you’ve told us already.” replied Jethro. “Unfortunately, though, we have to be awake for the remainder of the interviews so you’ll have to leave now.”

“Yeah just wait outside for our response. Oh, and be sure to tell the next person in line to come in.” called out Elliot as Gina trudged out of the room.

“Did you see what she was wearing?” said Melissa with a grimace after Gina had left. “I swear it looked like vomit held together with stitching.”

“And that’s coming from someone who kills six monkeys every morning and throws them over her shoulders in an attempt to create an outfit.” retorted Elliot.

“I only kill five.”

“Okay, shut-up now, the next person’s coming in.”

Sure enough, a trendy man with an oddly shaped haircut, which made him look like a peacock, entered the darkened room. He strutted as he walked, which also resembled the movement of a peacock, and turned the red cushioned chair around and sat on it back to front, giving Melissa a wink as he did so.

“You’re awfully cocky.” said Jethro as he looked the peacock-man up and down.

“Hi, you must be…Chayde.” said Melissa, consulting the sheet of paper in front of her again.

“Damn straight.” responded Chayde.

“I’m Melissa and this is Elliot and Jethro.”

Chayde stared directly at Elliot and scoffed. “Nice turtleneck.” he said sarcastically. “It’s got a nice hand-me-down look to it.”

“Why thank you, Chayde,” replied Elliot, just as sardonically. “By the way, that’s an interesting name you have there, Chayde. Did your mother happen to be sixteen years old when she had you?”

Chayde scoffed again. “Big words from someone who’s called ‘Elliot’. What type of name’s ‘Elliot’ anyway?”

“It’s a variant of the name ‘Elijah’ which is Hebrew in origin and means “the Lord is my God.” said Elliot. “What origins does Chayde have?”

Chayde merely blinked a few times in response.

“I’m guessing Jack Daniels and a portable toilet at a rock concert.” said Jethro.

“Anyway, I guess you want to know a little about me before I move in.” smirked Chayde, repositioning himself on the now back-to-front chair.

“Actually, I’m more interested in how you get your hair to do that.” said Melissa, her eyes on the crest of hair upon Chayde’s head.

“I use ‘Jizzle My Nizzle’.” said Chayde as he delicately touched his hairdo. “It’s a new gel from Capelli Piacevoli that also acts as a conditioner.”

“Nice,” said Melissa. “I’m more of a fan of ‘Klingon Cream’ which is a heavy concentrate of-“

“Chayde doesn’t care.”

“Answer me this, you peacock.” said Jethro. “Why do you think you deserve to live in our apartment?”

“Because I’m Chayde.” answered Chayde as he put his hands behind his head.

Melissa, Elliot and Jethro looked at each other in disbelief.

“I’ve got no more questions.” said Melissa.

“Neither.” nodded Elliot.

“Ditto.” agreed Jethro. “Alright metro-boy, you can poonce your way out of the room now.”

Chayde grinned and stood up, adjusting his hair as he did. “I’ll be expecting a call from you three then.” he said as he exited the room, before looking at Melissa and adding, “especially from you” as he slipped out the door.

“It’s a shame that such good hair is wasted on a prick like him.” said Melissa, shaking her head.

“Your name’s Hebrew? So is mine.” said Jethro, looking at Elliot. “A bit too convenient, don’t you think?”

“We don’t have time for your conspiracies today,” replied Elliot. “We’ve still got a fair few people left to interview.”

As he said this, the next person in line walked in, causing Jethro to immediately grip the table. The new person appeared to of middle-eastern descent and wore a plain blue shirt over jeans. Jethro opened and closed his mouth a few times as the middle-eastern man spun the red cushioned chair the right way around and sat down on it.

“Hello Mr…Ashraf,” said Melissa, once again peering down at the paper in front of her.

“Good morning.” said Ashraf politely. “How are you today?”

“We’ll be doing the interrogating, thankyou.” snapped Jethro as he pulled a pistol out from his pocket and place it on the table. “Just so you know we mean business.” he added as Ashraf stared apprehensively at the weapon.

“So where do you originally come from, Mr. Ashraf?” asked Melissa.

“Um,” said Ashraf, peeling his eyes away from the pistol. “I was born in Manchester but my family moved out here when I was five.”

“That’s nice.” smiled Melissa. “Is it very hot in Manchester? I hear it’s like near Iran, or something.”

Ashraf furrowed his brow and didn’t respond.

“Don’t mind her, she’s just geographically retarded.” said Elliot. “I have a question though; how involved with your culture are you?”

“What culture?” said Ashraf.

“You know…” began Elliot awkwardly.

“No, I don’t know.”

“Yeah you do….you know…Islam?”

Ashraf groaned. “I haven’t lived in any continent but the Western one.” he replied. “I wear pants, I respect woman, I don’t have a beard and I’m Catholic.”

“Oh that’s a shame,” said Elliot, shaking his head as he wrote something down on the paper in front of him. “That’s a real shame. Pembroke has an African, a South American and an Eastern European friend but not one from the Middle-East. This could have been my chance to finally show him up.”

“Pembroke?”

“Now I’m very surprised that we’ve managed to go a minute without anything blowing up,” said Jethro, his hand edging slightly away from the pistol. “Do you believe you could maintain this sort of behaviour and further assimilate yourself into our style of living?”

“What exactly do you mean by that?” asked Ashraf, looking at the gun yet again.

“Let me put it this way,” said Jethro. “If you were to somehow find yourself in the kitchen, an unlikely scenario for a male with your heritage, would you unload the dishwasher or make an explosive device using parts of our toaster, planning on destabilising our liberal government with it?”

Five seconds later and Ashraf was no longer in the room.

“You can’t go ten minutes without showing that gun, can you Jethro?” said Melissa in disgust.

“You may not realise it now, but it was the imposing presence of a firearm that kept us alive during that ordeal.” replied Jethro, stroking the weapon on the table.

Yet another person entered the room, this one a larger woman who froze when she spotted Jethro stroking the pistol.

“Am I in the wrong room?” she asked, taking a step back.

“No, no, no, you’ve got the right place. Come, sit down.” said Elliot, indicating to the red cushioned chair.

“Don’t apply all your weight to it.” instructed Jethro. “There’ll be people after you who’ll need to sit on it as well.”

The large woman looked at the chair, then at the pistol, then at Jethro. “I think I might just stand.” she said.

“What ever you’re comfortable with,” said Melissa. “Though I don’t see how you could possibly be comfortable in those cheap shoes. Anyway, you’re not here to be berated about your footwear, though, sadly, I will have to deduct some points because of their hideous nature.”

“What? There’s a point system?” questioned the large woman.

“Yes, but weight watchers will no doubt have you following a point system of some kind already so you’ll adjust to it quickly.” said Jethro. “Now your name is Susan, right? That’s a good, strong Caucasian name.”

“Thank you.” said Susan, slightly smiling for the first time.

“What qualities do you have that would make our apartment a better place to live in?” asked Elliot.

“Well I enjoy cleaning so you wouldn’t have to worry about doing that anymore.”

“We don’t have to worry about cleaning as it is.” chuckled Melissa. “We have a maid that comes and cleans the apartment for us every Thursday.”

“Yeah, but if I was there you wouldn’t have to pay for someone to clean the place.” countered Susan.

“We don’t pay her, though.” said Elliot. “Someone else does.”

“That’s right; I won her services in a game of chance.” explained Jethro.

“Alright, in that case I can cook for you. I love baking!” said Susan with glee.

“Yes, the agonising screams of your belt give that fact away.” muttered Jethro. “Quick quiz time. Looking at you I’m getting the impression that you won’t be getting married soon, which is a shame because you’re perfect housewife material. Now when you eventually do adopt a child in a desperate act spurred by loneliness, will it be: a) a North Vietnamese child, or b) a South Vietnamese child?”

Susan blinked three times before answering, “Um, I guess I’ll go with ‘a’.”

Jethro recoiled as though he had been punched. “Really…oh dear.” he said, picking up a pen and scribbling something down.

“Was that the wrong answer?” asked Susan fretfully.

“I guess you’ll find out when the Chinese invade.”

“I think that should be long enough.” said Elliot, looking at his watch. “Thankyou Susan; you’ll find out what our decision is shortly.”

Susan smiled weakly and walked out of the room looking much more self-conscious then when she had first walked in.

“How many do we have left?” enquired Melissa, rubbing her eyes wearily.

“A dozen, at least.” replied Elliot.

“It’s the curse of living in the city centre, I suppose.” sighed Melissa as another interviewee entered the room, blinking to adjust their eyes to the darkness. This person was followed by another, and then another, followed by yet another, with Melissa, Elliot and Jethro finding something wrong with each and every one of them. By the time that the last person had left (a man with one leg shorter than the other) the three of them were exhausted and highly disenchanted with mankind.

“I don’t know, maybe we’re just too elitist.” shrugged Elliot as he put his feet up on the table.

“No, it’s not our fault, it’s the world’s fault.” said Jethro, straightening his pinstripe jacket. “Personally I blame the modern music industry ands its consistent effort to destroy humanity and our established system of government.”

“Don’t you dare blame the music industry!” shouted Melissa with a raised fist. “Emo-rock will be considered a classic in fifty years time!”

“Um, excuse me?”

Melissa, Elliot and Jethro all turned to face the source of the interrupting voice. It belonged to a young male, in either his very late teens or very early twenties, with blondish hair and a casual dress code.

“I’m not too late for the interviews, am I?” he asked sheepishly.

“Well technically you are.” responded Jethro. “Considering that they started an hour and a half ago.”

“Oh…” said the young male. “Well everyone out here tells me they’re waiting for your responses. It’s just that I thought if I turned up a bit later there wouldn’t be such a large line to wait in.”

“I see…” said Elliot appreciatively. “Okay, for that piece of sensible thinking you’ve just earned yourself two minutes.”

“Alright, great!” grinned the young male, stepping into the darkened room. “Name’s Ryan by the way.”

“Melissa, Elliot and Jethro.” replied Melissa, pointing at each person when saying their corresponding name.

“Pleasure to meet you.” said Ryan as he sat down in front of them.

“So I pleasure you, do I?” asked Jethro.

“I don’t know.” said Ryan, gazing down at the pistol. “Um, why is there a handgun on the table?”

“What? Does its presence disturb you?”

“Not really, I’ve used them before at my uncle’s estate out west.”

“So you’ve had past experience with firearms,” said Jethro, his eyebrows rising above his glasses as he transferred this piece of information into writing. “You’re off to a good start.”

“Um…super, I guess.”

“Do you have a job?” asked Melissa, also with a pen in her hand.

“Yeah, I work at a music store in Westfield.” answered Ryan.

“Oh that’s great.” said Melissa, turning to face Jethro. “Maybe he’ll be able to help enlighten you to what proper music is.”

“Or maybe he’ll shoot you in the face.” retorted Jethro, throwing the pistol into Ryan’s lap. “Go on; show me your skill with a weapon. If you shoot her, you get instant admission to the apartment. We will, however, have to find yet another person to move in as a result.”

“No shooting this time!” exclaimed Elliot as he hopped out of his seat and carefully picked the gun up from Ryan’s lap. “Okay Ryan, for your last question; why do you think you deserve to move in?”

“Beats me.” shrugged Ryan. “I’m essentially mediocre.”

“Do you have confidence problems?” asked Elliot.

“Only with stuff involving an audience of over one hundred thousand people.”

“Are you a self-obsessed semi-homo who refers to himself in third person?” enquired Melissa.

“Uh, pretty sure I’m not. Yeah, I just proved it there when I said ‘I’m’.” answered Ryan.

“Are you clinically obese or of Arab descent…or both?” asked Jethro.

“Do I look like an obese Arab?” replied Ryan.

“No…though they have been getting less conspicuous lately.”

“Well I’m not.”

“Okay, I think that’s enough for me.” announced Elliot.

“Yep, he fits my criteria,” nodded Melissa. “Though we’ll have to do something about his eyebrows. They’re just not straight enough for my liking.”

“You’ll find me predominantly agreeable here.” agreed Jethro.

“Brilliant! So I’m in?” asked Ryan excitedly.

“I think it’s pretty safe to say you are.” replied Melissa. “You can get rid of the one’s waiting outside now, Jethro.”

“With pleasure.” smirked Jethro as he picked up his pistol and exited the room.

Ryan flinched as he heard a gunshot and the sound of screaming and fleeing, though he was calmed somewhat when Elliot shook his hand.

“Congratulations Ryan,” he said “Welcome to the apartment.”