“Before I start the tour there will be a preliminary contract-“ says Dave in a monotonous voice that hasn’t changed intensity since we met a couple of minutes ago. He hands me a clipboard with at least five pages. I notice the long dark scar along his hand but try to ignore it.

“You need to sign this if you want to continue,” he drones.

I’m not much of a reader, so I briefly scan through the pages. The words burn, loss of limbs, drowning, poisoning, psychological disorders, hallucinations, blindness, kidney failure, exposure to raidiation, cancer, and other diseases I can’t pronounce shout at me, but the main thing that catches my attention are the words in big bold:

*WE WILL NOT BE HELD RESPONSIBLE*

No wonder they’re short of employees.

But the pay is good.. plus, its probably just so they don’t get sued. How bad can it be?

Dave hands me a pen. I click it on, and scribble my name on the page in the back.

“Well I guess I should.. give you a tour now.” says Dave in his flat tone.

He glances at his own clipboard, squints his eyes, then proceeds to lead me down the hall.

The concrete floors have random stains, and a smell of manure and lemon scented cleaner attack my senses. Dave reaches a door and types in some kind of code before it clicks open. He leads me inside.

“Here is where you will sanitize yourself and put on your protective gear before entering the hall with our exibits.”

Dave picks up a box of clear safety goggles. “You will wear these at all times. If you should choose to not, we are not responsible.”

I put on the safety goggles as Dave opens a large metal door to enter a hallway. “We will now be entering our aquatic zone.” He points to a large dark tank to the right.

“Here is where we keep our sirens—when feeding them you need to wear headphones, of course. If you should choose to not, we are not responsible. The siren’s feed ‘does not’ consist of human body parts.”

“Why did you do the finger quotation marks for ‘does not’?”

Dave blinks. “It’s required by law.”

“Good to know.”

Dave continues walking, pointing to a seperate tank. “And here’s our kraken, Bill.”

“Where is he, exactly?”

“He’s afraid of the light, so he’s usually near the bottom of the tank.”

“How deep is the tank?”

“40 meters.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Only our diving team deals with Bill.”

I raise a brow, walking closer to the tank. “And this thing really keeps him in?”

“Don’t get too close. If should choose to, we are—“

“Not responsible.” I finish for him, smirking a bit.

“Exactly,” drones Dave, clearly not amused. “Now let’s move on.”

Dave continues walking, showing off the many creatures and their quirks. Throughout the exhibits I experience man-eating birds, unicorns, dragons, ‘not’ dinosaurs (Dave said this was, also, required by law of him to say). Chupacabras, giant lizards, winged jaguars, and many others. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

Dave shows me the hatchery, veterinarian clinic, examination rooms, food storage, and ‘discovery’ rooms, which, when peering inside the tiny window in the door, I can see a scientist team decked head to toe in protective gear setting off a blinding light. Dave only says, “it’s legal,” before directing me away.

At the end of the tour, Dave says, “So, ya interested?”

“Yeah.. but Dave, how much of this is actually, uh.. I mean, how do you guys do all this stuff?”

Dave squints at me, and responds in his flatline tone, “We have permits,” before he judges my expression. “So you want the job or not?”

“Heck yeah.”