I soon discovered I was not looking at Cupcake's cousin, her evil twin, nor an animal version of Storm from the X-Men.

The three females introduced themselves as Bethlynn, Trynice and, you guessed it, Cupcake.

The situation was awkward at first, but I played it off like I had never met the bird before.

I smiled, shook their hands. "Nice to meet you."

Cupcake took a stack of papers out of her folder, handing a packet to each girl. I could tell it was my application.

They reviewed the information quietly for a few moments.

"Wow," Bethlynn muttered. "It almost looks real!"

"It is real," I said with a frown. "I can't remember everything I was supposed to have on there, but you can Google most of it."

"You came all the way from Las Vegas?" She looked surprised.

"All the way? Then where are we exactly?"

"Overland Park, Kansas."

I couldn't exactly disagree with her. Maybe the building was in Kansas, or maybe she got transported from Kansas to this location, so she probably wasn't wrong. Completely.

Trynice looked me in the eye. "So. What made you decide to work here?"

"Well, I'm trying to pay off a car. But that's the funny part. I'm not actually looking for real currency. The car is actually a painting, so the only reason I really came here is to get...the kind of money that doodles use.

"I'm a serious guy. I want a job I can do for eight hours a day, five days a week, and get a regular paycheck. I want a job that I can punch in at a certain hour, every day, do something boring but necessary, and get paid for it."

"Sounds good," Bethlynn said. "But I think you'll have to ask our Doodle Ambassador about the money."

Cupcake grinned. "I'm certain we can accommodate your request, provided you qualify."

"Is that the only reason you want to work here?"

I shrugged. "I've done a number of customer service type jobs. I know how to handle people, and how to make deals, and I think there's something enjoyable about it. I think it would be easier than, say, trying to win a million dollars at a pie eating contest or something."

Trynice nodded. "I noticed...you didn't dress up for the interview..."

I rubbed my face in frustration. "I wish I could have, but it's not easy in this place. I had some cartoon dress up clothes, but they're a little unpredictable. I put stuff in the pockets, and they're gone."

"Speaking of which, forgive me for mentioning it, but your appearance is...unusual. It seems you're not a doodle, but you turn into one from time to time. Care to explain?"

No, I definitely didn't care to explain, but they put me on the spot. I gave them a half truth. "It was an accident."

"An accident," Trynice repeated, sounding skeptical.

"What kind of accident?" Bethlynn asked.

"It's complicated," I answered.

Cupcake grinned. "It was a sexual accident."

I sighed, raising my hands defensively. "Look. If you guys don't want to hire me, tell me to get lost."

"Relax, Drew," Bethlynn said.

"Yeah," Trynice added. "It's against the law to discriminate based on sexual orientation."

I stared at the two in horror. "You just made it sound worse."

Then, after another embarrassed silence, I stammered, "I'm glad you don't discriminate against my...orientation."

Bethlynn glanced at the application. "It says here you worked at Encore..."

I stared at her. "You've heard of it?"

She nodded. "I used to work there."

"It's been awhile," I said. "That's probably why I don't recognize you. Sorry about the addresses, by the way. I'm stuck in Cool World, so I can't get to my stuff."

"We can look up the information," said Bethlynn.

"What impresses us is that you know what these places are, and actually filled out the application the way you were supposed to, complete with social security number," Trynice said.

"It's what I do."

Cupcake's folder had been closed, but now she opened it again, setting up one of those retinal scanner/camera things they had in Blade Runner. I guess Hammerspace was linked to the folder, or something.

Trynice opened a little memo pad, reading from the first page.

"Are you willing to work eight hours a day, five days a week, and stick to that schedule indefinitely?"

I was human, so I assumed it couldn't pick up half truths. "Yes."

"A man calls in, saying he just lost his wife to prostate cancer. He said he doesn't think he can afford the minimum payments now that he's down to one income. What do you do?"

"Is the man gay?" I asked. "I mean, prostate cancer is kind of a male thing."

Cupcake furrowed her brow in puzzlement, but didn't speak.

"Yes," Trynice said.

I sighed. This kind of situation did seem real. "I guess...I'd ask a supervisor if there were any special programs we could put him on," I said, feeling a little disgusted. "Is that really going to come up on a day to day basis?"

She didn't answer. She just read the next question.

"A credit card is free money, and when it stops allowing you to buy things, it's your right to not make any more payments until it starts working again."

I laughed. "Sure. Tell that to the credit bureau."

"A woman is upset. She wants to buy her children gifts for Christmas, but she is over her account spending limit, and behind on two payments. She said that her car just broke down and is in need of a lot of repairs, and she just lost her job. What do you say?"

I'd seen a few trick questions like this before. The key is the emotional resolution, rather than the solution.

"Um, gee, I'm sorry to hear that you lost your job and have all those expensive repairs to make. I hope you can figure something out."

"The woman is now upset, because we denied her spending limit increase, saying that her children will not have Christmas this year."

I shrugged. "I'd tell her sorry, ma'am, but it has been determined that we are unable to increase your spending limit based on your credit. If you disagree with the reporting, you can take it up with the bureaus. Either that, or I'd recommend covering a few missed payments to help free up some capital and make an increase more likely."

"But it's Christmas!" Cupcake protested.

I rolled my eyes. "A credit card is not a charity. It is a loan. The company eventually wants the money back. If more people didn't spend beyond their means like that, collection agencies would be a lot less busy. They're not doing themselves any favors, either." I paused. "Wait. Aren't you Jewish?"

Cupcake reddened. "You're right. You're absolutely right. Mostly."

I didn't ask for an explanation. I just stared at her.

"You're hired," said Trynice.

I stared at her in bafflement. "That's it?"

"Yeah," the woman said. "You know how hard it is to find a cartoon person who gets all that?"

"Training class should still be in session," Bethlynn said. "I'll show you to the room."

She passed me through a turnstile, leading me down a wide hallway. It was strange to see a matte painting beyond the glass fire exit door at the far end, an element of bizarre in a completely boring setting. A big woman in shorts snored on a couch along the wall, paying me no attention.

I was led into something that looked like a college classroom. An auditorium with rows of desks and computers and phones, surrounding an instructor's desk and a markerboard.

The desks were largely occupied by animated sheep, though I saw a horse and a squirrel as well.

A short bearded noid in argyle, with glasses and well combed hair stood in front of the class, teaching them about finance charges.

"If the balance is six hundred, and you have an APR of fifteen percent, what will be your next regular minimum payment?" he asked.

He received a mixed reaction. Some of the sheep just stared blankly, some poked buttons on calculators, scratching their heads.

I picked up a calculator from one of the desks, did the math, and told him the amount.

The man snorted in annoyance, then, when he realized I'd given the correct answer, he whirled around to face me. "Hello? Who are you?"

"He's your new student," said Bethlynn. "Drew, this is Pete Garrotte. He'll be your new training manager."

Pete gazed at me for a moment, then laughed, and somewhat nervously I thought. "Oh thank God! An actual human being for once! Front row, please."

I marched around the desks.

"Anywhere's fine."

We worked on APR calculations and such for several minutes. I knew what I was doing, so he had me helping the others out.

I watched with amusement as Pete scolded a horse as it tried to figure out answers by tapping its hooves on the desk.

"Don't do that. It'll ruin the finish."

We learned how to use a program called SeQual, a very basic program designed to limit employees to the most basic of programming functions for optimum micromanagement.

Boring, straightforward, simple. My fellow trainees refused to stop calling it Squeal.

We had practice transferring calls. Easy stuff. Type in an extension, push a button, right?

Well, some of the other `agents' literally transferred themselves through the phone.

"Don't do that!" Pete said when he caught a second sheep's head popping out of the receiver of another sheep's phone.

You would have thought that, since I kept out of trouble and did what I was told, only occasionally turning into a doodle maybe once an hour, the instructor would have gone easy on me, but, being a `Bell Curve' type of instructor, he tended to scold me when I tried to skip ahead of the class.

I guess he didn't think of me as highly as I imagined, he just appreciated the fact I didn't pop my head through the phone, or smash the place up with a giant hammer or something.

Whatever, I thought. I went along with the lesson like I was a total novice, hoping someone would figure it out sometime.

At the end of class (lunch break, actually), Pete had to teach the sheep the concept of a weekly paycheck.

The sheep marched out, leaving me and the trainer in the room.

He was friendly for all of that condescension, or maybe just desperate for someone normal to talk to. Normal-ish. "So. Nevada. That's a long way from Kansas City."

I was annoyed to hear that comment again, even from someone else, but I humored him.

In case you're wondering, we did chat a couple times during class.

"You know, I used to live in Fargo. Sometimes it got so cold up there that you could actually throw a pot of boiling water into the air, and have it come down as snow."

Remember that story. It will be on a test later.

"That sounds pretty cold," I agreed.

"I'm still trying to figure something out. How did you get all the way over here? Did you fly?"

"I'm not sure what happened. I was in Cool World, and your office building just appeared out of nowhere."

"Cool World. Cupcake has told me a few things about the place, but I really haven't gone out very far. I tried walking around the block, but it got dangerous. Things were exploding."

"It's definitely unsafe," I said. You got to know something about cartoons, or you're in trouble, and sometimes even that doesn't help."

He frowned. "Why do you sometimes turn into a dinosaur?"

"I fell into something called a Miasma Pool," I lied, pulling something out of Final Fantasy. "It does weird things to you."

Pete sighed. "I just want to go home. I've got a wife and kids. They're worried sick."

"Why don't you try calling them?"

He looked pained. "I do, but how can I explain this without looking like a nut?"

"I know the feeling," I groaned. "I'm kind of stuck here myself."

"I think my kids would love it."

After an awkward silence, where neither of us could think of what to say, Pete said, "Do you know of any good restaurants around here?"

I only shrugged. "It all pretty much tastes like cardboard, no matter where you go, and you probably got to use cartoon currency, unless you meet someone super nice."

"Anything's better than Company Kitchen. It's extortion."

"Company what?"

He showed me the little self service convenience store they had on the property, monitored by cameras and nothing else.

Honor system. You scanned the bar codes from sandwiches and snacks and pop at a machine and swiped your credit card.

It was expensive. Twice as much as you'd pay at Quicktrip, which of course, means it was really, really expensive.

"So what have you been doing about sleeping arrangements?" I asked.

"Well, we kind of just lay our coats down and sleep on the floor. A few of us have inflatable rafts from an incentive contest. Some lay on those, but mostly the floor. Cupcake's supposedly having some little birds come in to build us nests, but the idea sounds kind of sketchy to me."

"I'm surprised she hasn't at least given you bird seed or suet cake or something."

Pete laughed. "She suggested it, but nobody took the idea seriously. Is that what people live on around here?"

"Sometimes. If you're desperate enough."

Another silence. I frowned at the high priced food.

Pete scanned a sub sandwich and paid for it. "See you back in class in about..." He checked his watch. "Twenty minutes."

The moment he left, I got slammed into a gray wall next to the chip racks. The black scantily clad bird glared at me with its glowing eyes.

"So..." I stammered. "Uh, great to see that you're all right after that trip to the Nether Region or Dark Dimension or whatever it's called."

"Shadow Realm," she growled. "You should know. You had me trapped in there for ten long years."

I sighed. "It wasn't nearly that long. Honestly. My, um, second job would fire me if I was gone that long."

"Time passes differently in the Shadow Realm," she said in a threatening tone. "An hour outside the Shadow Realm is equal to a year inside."

"I think that would actually make it less than ten years, based on when we put you there, but I'll take your word on that. Unless you meant one year passes for every thirty minutes..."

I guess, like that water planet in Interstellar, time passed a lot quicker in that place.

Her hands clamped around my throat, her beak clamped down to a small slit as she spoke the next words. "For ten long years I wandered the Shadow Realm, subsisting on fungus and dead bodies, hiding in the darkness, killing to survive. Do you know what was the single thought that kept me alive all this time? The sole motivation for me to keep going? The motivation for which I lived and died?"

I swallowed. "Uh, your desire to murder everyone I care about, and torture me until I die horribly?"

She grabbed me by the collar, kissing me passionately. "Guess again."

I paled. "Oh my God. Seriously?"

She grabbed my chin with her feathery hand. "I admit I did hate you at first, for leaving me in that place to die, at least that first month.

"But then, as I wondered day after day in that desert wasteland, a terrible loneliness gripped me, and as I lay all alone, masturbating in a sleeping bag I'd fashioned from the skins of dead Shadow Beasts, I thought only of my king, and the great kindness he showed my people."

"Oh God," I groaned. "Please tell me you're kidding."

She shook her head. "For a decade, I have fantasized, dreamed about the day I'd take you home, to be the first being, the first...noiddle to warm my nest."

"Noiddle?" I said.

"Part noid, part doodle," she explained. "I've had a lot of time to think about it. It sounds better than `noodle' or `dooid.'"

"To think, I was about to question your statement about being a virgin."

She grabbed the seat of my jeans and kissed me. "There's an easy enough way to fix that..." she purred.

I pushed away her kissing mouth. "Look, Cupcake. You're cute, and maybe we share similar business interests, but let's take things slow. Get to know each other a little first. It's lunch time. How about we sit down somewhere together and chat?"

She looked somewhat disappointed, but nodded, giving me a warm smile. "Anything for my king."

I grabbed an Italian sandwich, running it across the scanner on the kiosk. My mouth was watering with the idea of eating real food for once, expensive or not.

Since I was still non-animated, I didn't have to worry about Hammerspace for the moment. I was actually able to swipe my debit card.

Insufficient funds, the screen said.

Thinking it was a mistake, I ran it again.

Insufficient funds.

I cursed under my breath. Even though I paid ahead on my rent, I had left a hundred in there for situations like this. The small sum wouldn't have prevented my eviction, so I had left it alone.

I stared at the screen, still puzzling over what had happened, trying to remember some transaction, any transaction, that would have put me in the red.

I got so mad that I marched up to Cupcake and said, "Do you know where I can have access to a computer? Something's wrong with my bank account, and I want to know what it is, or who just used it without my permission."

She looked delighted. "Oh I think I know just the place," she said in a sing-song voice.

She led me out and down the hall, beneath a wide spiral staircase to one of their brass plated elevators.

As the elevator rose, we both were silent for a moment.

"So," I said. "That's an interesting look you've got now."

"When you say interesting," she breathed. "Do you mean sexy?"

I swallowed. "Let's...start with interesting, and see where we go from there."

And then, to not make it sound insulting, "You're cute. I'm willing to say that much." I changed the subject fast. "What did you do in this Shadow Realm? Besides masturbate? What was it like there?"

I guess I was hoping that she would be reminded of why she hated me.

"It's a lot of rock desert and hostile vegetation. A lot of dust storms. The plants and fungus really change you. I could take you there sometime, if you want..."

I cringed. "No thanks."

She ran her fingers down her horns. "You like them? I think they're very distinct."

"Uh, yeah. They're neat." I sighed. "Did you...meet any other birds there?"

She giggled. "Not any that I'm interested in, if that's what you're getting at. A lot of super large weird looking ones, twice as big as me, or little tiny desert birds, few of them knowing English. They don't hold a candle to you."

I smiled uncomfortably. "I'm...gratified to hear that, I guess."

The elevator came open at an upper floor, and we walked through a call center with ceiling to floor windows and row upon row of upholstered particle board cubicles.

She led me to the end of this impressive floor, into a little meeting room, one with a long polished mahogany table, a laptop computer, and a swivel chair with its back to a large window.

She ushered me to the seat behind the laptop, and when I got in and scooted myself up to the table, she leaned over me, pressing her breasts against me as she helped me log in.

Pretended to ignore this, I focused on pulling up my bank website, putting in my password, reading my statement.

My account was seventy five dollars in the red.

I had two new unauthorized one hundred and eighty seven dollar purchases from Amazon. Some company named Sweatshopkukooclocks dot com.

This transaction had been processed before the landlord had decided to cash my rent check. As a rule, they don't cash it the moment you put it in the night drop, they wait a few days.

The rent check was pending, not processed.

It was going to bounce.

It was likely they would evict me, since people in real life do not do reasonable things like cashing only the valid part of a large check.

Evicted. For two damn kookoo clocks.

Although I hadn't wanted her to, Cupcake had been looking at my bank statement with me. I let it pass because it was her computer, she was animated, and I was very upset about the fraud. "Is something the matter?"

"Yeah. I'd say so," I growled, pointing at the items. "I didn't do that."

"It does seem...a little out of character."

I let out a heavy sigh. "Kookoo clocks. That's...a weird coincidence."

Cupcake frowned at the screen. "What makes you think this is one?"