Genur.art

A fat, ugly gooner at a corporate job interview, squeezed into a suit two sizes too small, seated across from three horrified interviewers in a glass-walled conference room. Mid-handshake, his chair lets out a dying creak — and his trousers split clean down the middle, revealing a gold flat chastity cage gleaming under the fluorescent lights. A bead of drool escapes his frozen grin. One interviewer's coffee cup is paused halfway to her mouth, another is slowly sliding his notepad over his eyes, the third is already reaching for the phone. His résumé, printed on wrinkled paper, lists "self-starter" and "team player." Outside the glass, the whole open-plan office has stopped typing. Frozen at the exact second his career ends — hyper-detailed, unseemly, deeply funny.