Your name is Dave Strider and you are director for a kick-ass choir. Every Wednesday, people from all 'round Dallas come to your studio to sing. For you.
"Mr. Strider," the youngest soprano pipes up, "would you like a cookie?" She smiles with her two front teeth missing, and you can't help but take it. You pap her on the head as a thanks and she runs off giggling. Yes, you have quite the assortment of people from her age all the way to a bass singer of 70. In fact, he walks up to you now,
"That was a really great rehearsal tonight," He says and smiles, tips his hat, then leaves.
You think the choir sounds great, however it could definitely be better. Tomorrow is Easter, which is always a big production, and there is a gaping hole that must be filled: you need a pianist.
You quietly place all of your papers back in to your briefcase, but when you turn to leave, there is someone standing there. Actually there are two people, on holding tight to the other. "My name is John Egbert and I need a job," Is the only thing he says. One quick look at his hands and you know.
Your name is John Egbert and you need a job. You give him a weak smile, tell him your name, and ask if he needs help. Your aide has been telling you that you should go around town to look for local jobs. This is probably the best idea. No one speaks. Your aide ties to tell you something, but you interrupt, "I'm sure whatever Mr. Strider has to say he can say, Erica" You're so grateful that she is so patient. "He's mute, sir." Well, now that you just fucked everything up and took a ton of bricks to the face, there is no way you are going to get this job. "And if you'll let me continue, sir he says he needs a pianist." You hear clacking of chalk on the other side of the room. "And he says you look like quite the fit, if you can manage to not keep your mouth so quick." You can hear the smile in her words, and you smile too. So he is still willing to hire you, after all. Perfect.
He smiles when you mention the piano. 'Perfect' you're thinking to yourself, as Erica guides John over to the piano bench. He takes a second to find middle C, and after that, it's all natural. It actually starts out a bit hesitant, as if he's unsure if he wants to play for you or not. Then about a minute later, he stops. His aide smiles, and his hands stretch for a microsecond then flow like a river. He's whipping out powerful bases and speedy runs and like hell if you could ever do that. He stops, and you realize it's over. You find yourself moving your sunglasses up a little to wipe tears from your eye. Selfishly, you're grateful for a second that he can't see you. Deciding that this guy is, in fact, going to be playing choir music after all, you want to be sure he knows his stuff. You decide to have a little fun with him. You start requesting progressively harder and harder songs because why not. He's bested your challenge, and you can tell he's getting a little tired, along with… a hint of frustration? You take out your phone and type out [one last one… the last words of david] He sighs a little, rubs his hands, and starts. It's beautiful. You can't even call it that. You're so moved, it becomes difficult to even get up while he's playing and head to the chalkboard. When he finishes, you've wrote it down:
YOU'RE HIRED!
You're confused by the silence. "So?" Your aide puts her hand on your shoulder, "Sir, you're hired." You reach out and feel you new boss's 'Thant's such a funny title!' shoulder, and pull him in for a hug. You're grateful, all right.