Doreen paused in the doorway of the room, overwhelmed by what she saw. When she had applied for the position she had imagined majesty, orderliness and a sense of awe but this blew that notion to smithereens.
For a moment she hesitated but as she sensed a presence in the room she turned, bowing low to the ground, as she recognized the other.
“What do you call yourself?” The fawn said at last and Doreen almost fainted, such a sweet voice it had!
“Doreen,” She replied, “It’s an honor to meet you.”
The fawn considered her for a moment, “If you could catalogue everything that would be fabulous. Now that we have been announced the rightful rulers of earth we must decide what to do with your waste products. Is it true that you work so you can have this trash?”
Doreen blinked, “I would be more than pleased to accept some of this trash as payment, your honor.”
The fawn blinked, “Take what you want, I’m going outside to graze.”
As the other departed Doreen smiled broadly, perhaps this hadn’t been her worst decision; she thought as she peered into the glass bookcase, how old was that Bible exactly?
© Deb Whittam 2019