Dear Sir or Madam:
Let us sing now of the exploits of Lux Fiat of the Land of Three Rivers, who would win from you the title of Library Assistant. Has Hercules, whose labors were spoken of by the gods themselves, heard, in the hiss of the Hydra, of Lux Fiat’s dependability? His adaptability? Hercules has heard, and trembled.
Has terrible Thor, whose mighty arms will drive his divine hammer with all the fury of an Arctic storm onto the head of the World-Serpent, destroying the vast beast even as the gods lament their twilight, heard, in the rasp of scale against titan scale, of Lux Fiat’s ability, nay, willingness to lift boxes weighing up to 40 pounds? Thor has heard, and grown pale.
Has fickle Inanna, stripped of the accoutrements of her station as she passed through the Seven Gates into the the ultimate depths of the Land of the Dead, heard in the moaning of her sister Erishkigal, Queen of the Underworld, of Lux Fiat’s personability, comptetent demeanor, and professional appearance? Inanna has heard, and shivered in her nakedness.
Let us sing, then, of Lux Fiat, mightiest of job candidates. Who has not read of his days with the Large Office Appliance Supplier Who Cannot Be Named, learning the ways of the Machines That Mail? Who cannot recite, as though the stories were our own, the tales of his time spent in the Fortress of Manufacture of High-Tech Capital Machines, routing parts with the swift efficiency of ten men? Let us sing of him, for he is truly the Good Fit For The Available Position spoken of in prophecy, and his Career Goals are written across the sky in ten-foot letters of fire, in the secret language of the Archangels.
Now hire me already, you sperm-curdled sons of fifty fathers! HIRE! ME!
Regards,
Lux