Disclaimer: I do not own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. Nor do I wish to. Not big on responsibility.
Foster's and all it's inhabitants belong to Craig McCracken.
I get no cash for writing fanfiction.

Help Wanted
By Sam Black

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Sun: Bright
Sky: Blue
Temp: Warm
Verdict: A sickeningly average day just like all the other's this town has ever had. Otherwise, it was kinda nice.
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"Damn," clicking her cell phone shut, Drew Beck cursed her sarcastic wit and inability to resist the temptation of a good piercing parlor. She had yet again racked up another failed attempt at normality and kissing corporate ass.

But at least this one had actually called her back.

"Fourth one this week." Drew murmured darkly, letting her battered flip phone clatter to the table top of the nice outdoor smoothie shop she was currently moping in front of. In her opinion, Blendum's chocolate milkshakes were Prometheus' REAL gift to man. Screw fire.

After another moment or so of staring into her half empty cup, as if looking for a way to blame frozen dairy products for her misfortune, she relented with a sigh and let her head drop to the crook of her folded arms.

Drew Beck just could not land a job.

'It's not like I'm some kind of psycho who eats puppies or something!' she thought glumly, running a hand through her short, choppy hair in aggravation.

Frowning with renewed indignation she looked around as if she expected the answer to fall from the sky, 'And it's not like I'm trying to get hired so I can steal office supplies and molest the snack machines during lunch hour,' she added sardonically.

"I just don't see what the problem is!" she said with frustration, throwing her hands up in the air then letting them fall listlessly back down to her lap.

Looking down at her chipped metallic blue nail polish and bead-bracelet covered forearms she grimaced, "Yes I do." with a self-hating groan. The long pause that followed was agonizing.

Just as she was preparing to wrap herself up inside her favorite emotional pity-party blanket, Drew felt a small tap on her shoulder.

Blanking out her face, she turned to see a middle-aged woman with a worried smile on her face looking at her like old high school counselor used to.

Drew Beck
--Inability to function Properly in a Structured Society.
--Unable to Cooperate with Peers or Authority Figures.
--Refusal to Compromise.
--No Future.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked as kindly as a complete stranger could.

Drew tilted her head to the side, "Yeah. Why?" she asked innocently.

The woman's eyebrows knit together with concern, "You were talking to yourself." she replied speaking uncertainly.

Drew pretended to looked confused for a minute then snapped her fingers, "Oh! You must have heard me talking to Pez!" she explained, looking as if this sort of thing always happened to her, "He's my sister's imaginary friend, has a habit of being invisible at the most inconvenient times. I'm babysitting him until my sister gets out of ballet." she continued on, giving the helpful woman a look of full understanding.

The woman's smile became genuine as she nodded, "How nice." she said.

Drew nodded as well, "Yep. Sorry to scare you." she replied lightly.

The woman left quickly afterwards and and Drew held her breathe until she rounded the corner. When the woman was finally gone, she slumped back down into her seat with a sigh of relief, "Lying really IS my forte." she said with only a hint of amazement.

The old "I was talking to my Imaginary Friend" routine never failed to convince curious bystanders that there was no need to question her sanity.

Drew rolled her eyes and took a sip of her milkshake, "Like I even have a sister." she muttered with a small snort of laughter aimed mostly at herself.

'All right, let's see. Lost a sock, spilled my coffee, burnt my toast, ran out of hot water in the shower, nearly ran over a puppy, missed most of my CPR class, swallowed a bug while driving, got turned down for another job, and lied to some lady who was just trying to be nice.' Drew rambled on internally, ticking the day's quirks off her fingers while she did it, 'At least I still have my health.' she concluded with a grimace.

Picking up her cup and messenger bag Drew made her way over to the trashcans, hoping that the day would start to look up sometime soon.

Apparently, Life wasn't feeling very kind at the moment.

As she was trying to throw way her cup some guy came running around the corner, obviously to concerned with watching where he was going, to pay attention to people who were actually in the way. He pushed his way past her, bumping her shoulder harder than was appropriate.

"Ow! Hey!" Drew snapped grabbing her aching arm, "Be more polite the next time you want to dislocate my shoulder, jerk!" she called out ofter the guy. He didn't even bother to turn around.

What a lovely town.

Drew was seething, "What a complete jacka-"

"Are you okay, Miss?" someone meekly interrupted her rage.

Surprised, Drew reacted with unbecoming snark, "No! Did you see that?! The guy didn't eve-" her reply was cut short when she realized she was only talking to the top of someone's head.

Looking down, she arched an eyebrow. 'My, what a large head you have.' she thought in amusement.

"Miss?" the boy asked again.

That seemed to snap her out of it, "Oh uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm good." she reassured the child, "Just uh, got a bit jostled." she added with a weak laugh.

The boy seemed satisfied, "Okay. Well if you're sure." he said, taking a tentative step back but keeping his concern on her in case she decided that she wasn't alright.

Drew gave him a smile and a thumbs-up, "Yep. Plucky as ever. Thanks though." she said with gusto.

The boy nodded and began to walk away, just then Drew noticed him holding a large stack of fliers. Her interest peaked, she reached out to stop him from going, "Hey. What are those?" she asked with a curiosity, that she felt, came out of nowhere.

The brown-haired boy turned around and gave her a grin, "How well-equipped are you in dealing with Imaginary Friends?"

That was not the answer she was expecting. Not even close. She had been thinking it was for a concert or a bake sale or something equally expectable. Her answer reflected her confusion.

"Is that a common skill normal people have?" she asked with a tilt to her head.

The boy shrugged, and held up the bright yellow flier.

HELP WANTED

Drew smiled slowly. That was all she needed to know.

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A/N: What do you honestly think? Try not to sugar-coat it. I'm a big girl, I think I can handle con-crit.