&quot;Pronoun. Gorgeous Pronoun.&quot; The interviewers all spat coffee in unison. As they mopped their desk and chins, the last one managed… &quot;I… I'm sorry, but… *What?*&quot; The hapless interviewee shifted in his seat again, sighing heavily. &quot;That's my name, Mr. Pronoun.&quot; &quot;Mr Gorgeous Pronoun?&quot; The eldest interviewer tried the name on his tongue, attempting to reassure himself. &quot;I see. Yes… yes. Mr Pronoun. That's fine then.&quot; He nodded this last to the others on the bench, prodding them into line. The others stared at each other in smirks and wide–eyed disbelief. ** Pronoun studied the luxuriously rich cream carpet, waiting. Coffee was still dripping onto it from the bench. It smelt like good coffee; shame no one had thought to offer him some. The third interviewer chimed up. &quot;Ahh. So, why did… I mean, _why *do*_... why do you want to be a lexicographer, Gorgeous?&quot; &quot;Just call me Gorge; everyone does. Or some do.&quot; Gorge thought for a moment. &quot;A lexy–what–afer? A friend sent me—he said to take the dictionary job.&quot; 2008-05-22T17:02:59Z http://ficlets.com/feed/story/31335 <p>Mr. Gorgeous pronoun. My favorite part was actually when they called his name at the beginning.</p> http://ficlets.com/stories/31335?basename=64101 2008-05-22T17:02:59Z thebetweenspace http://ficlets.com/authors/thebetweenspace