Looking up at the buzzing, green neon sign, Erik shuddered. He couldn't believe that he had sunk this low. He stepped through the partly broken door and gulped back the disgust that he was entering such a seedy establishment…
"Hello! Welcome to the Job Centre!"
Erik nodded with a painful grimace. He could tell this woman would grate on his nerves. She was blonde, giggly and looked as though a coat hanger had pole-vaulted its way up her arse and somehow found its way up to her mouth.
"Can I take your name, sir?" the blonde asked, the 20 million mega-watt smile still gleaming out of her mouth and practically demolishing everything with UV rays.
"Phantom. THE Phantom." Erik paused. "Of the Opera."
Cue predictable awkward pause and eye brow raise.
"Oh fine! ERIK! That's E-R-I-K, you dizzy bint. And no, you aren't getting a surname" he snapped.
The blonde blinked before scribbling down the name, inevitably spelt Eric. But hey, she was blonde. And very stupid. But not without a very nice chest, as Erik had noted.
"STOP IT! Erik, stop it!" he hissed internally to himself, "repeat over and over: you are an average normal bloke, not a perverted, horny, stalking social recluse. You are an average normal bloke, not a perverted, horny…oh that's a nice pair…STOPITNOW!"
"Oh, you'll have to remove the mask…security purposes."
"GNWUTHWTUJKYHOWEHNGBGHEHRNYBWQOTHW9TQU-Y8W! WHORETRAMPSLUTBITCHNO!"
Erik knocked on the office door, sheepishly. A severe-looking middle aged woman answered.
"Yes. What eez you wantin'?" she snapped in a ridiculously over the top French accent.
"I think I killed your receptionist…"