Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Another Day at the Office

I wrote this short story to illustrate how awful my last job was. I hope you enjoy:

Another Day at the Office

She's at it again.

A sharp noise pierces my ears. Her laugh, a noise regularly mistaken for the shrill call of a banshie, can be heard throughout the entire industrial district. She's brewing something wicked. I can tell. I can sense it.

Tish. Just saying her name makes my skin crawl.

She whispers some chants into the monitor of her computer, then pounds the letters on her discolored keyboard with her short, meaty fingers. Another piercing cackle escapes her lips, startling me, and half of my scalding hot coffee escapes my porcelain mug, gracefully diving onto my right thigh.

"Mother Fucker!!!!" I scream while I leap from my chair, trying to shake off whatever liquids that haven't fully absorbed into my slate blue jeans. The dance of shear pain continues until the burning sensation resigns. Once it does, I point at her with cold defiance and contort my face to better represent my overpowering feelings of hatred towards that evil bitch "YOU!"

My exclamation makes her grimace and she spits onto the floor. Suddenly I feel my index finger curling in an unnatural way towards the back of my hand, and it is soon accompanied by its four lengthy neighbors. DAMN HER TELEPATHIC POWERS! I fall to the floor crying in agony, trying, with little success, to ignore the cracking of my bones.

"Shit...where is it?! WHERE IS IT?!?!" I holler as I look for the cross I made out of sporks, garlic and pixie sticks. She speeds towards me and bounds onto my desk like a rabid dog ready to infect and destroy its prey. The moment the cold plastic of the cross touches my skin, I use all of my might to whip around onto my back. She attempts to pounce, but twists her body mid-air once she sees the majestic and holy marriage of stapled pixie sticks and sporks held in my left hand.

"HAH! Take that spawn of SATAN!"

Another shriek leaves her mouth, but this time no merriment can be detected. She slithers away, hissing; her body steaming from the damage caused by the cross effect. Victory is mine!

I race towards the door. Its my chance to escape! Nothing can stop me now! BWA HA HA HA!


My face hits the linoleum floor. I look down at my ankles to see the shackles the mega-beast attached to my unsuspecting limbs. She jumps onto my back and begins ripping out clumps of my hair. Paralyzing-acid drools from the corners of her lips onto my round, rosey cheeks.

"Damn you Beast Woman!" I exclaim as I begin convulsing from the handicapping serum her body excretes from her mouth. Soon she flips my motionless body over so that I am once again lying on my back. She grabs what little hair I have left on my scalp and pulls my head up so that I must face her.

The eyes...NOT THE EYES! I cant look into her eyes! But in my state, I cannot resist.

Ive got to keep a clear head. I cant let her win. The bitch, the cold demon woman! I cant let her enter my mind and fry my thoughts!

Tish is an amazing woman. Tish can make your wildest dreams come true. GIVE TISH YOUR WORTHLESS SOUL!

NOOOO! I must fight it, I cant give in! You brainwashing trollop! You evil wretch!

Tish is a good boss. Tish makes everything okay. You love it here. YOULL NEVER LEAVE! I OWN YOUR UNWORTHY MIND!

The pain! The horrible throbbing pain! I cant take much more of this, but I MUST! I have to defeat this evil demon!


Im...weakening...must fight...cant give...up...

* * *

Suddenly, I wake up. Im sitting at my desk again.

"Did you finish the manifests I asked you to do!?"

"Yes Tish. Oh! And heres your coffee. Look! I folded your napkin into a crane!" I look despairingly into her eyes, looking for a glimmer, a sign, ANY sort of expression that may represent her approval.

She takes one sip of her coffee and promptly spits it into my eyes.

"You call this coffee?!?!" she spills the rest of her cups contents onto my desk. "Clean this up!"

I fumble for the paper towels I keep hidden under my desk and try to soak up the liquid as quickly as possible so I can escape her scornful stare.

The big hand on our clock reaches 12 and the little hand finally lines up perfectly with 5 ...Quitting time. Suddenly, the break-room door swings open and one of the other employees enters the office. Tish glides back to her perch behind her desk and watches my every move.

"Hey Shayna, how was work today?" Johnny inquires smiling.

"I can never understand why I feel like quitting every morning. I absolutely love it here!"

The two of us chuckle aloud, say our goodbyes to Tish, and then leave the office together. After I drop Johnny off, I begin driving to my apartment, daydreaming about tomorrow. I get that feeling in my stomach a child gets the night before Christmas. I am barely able to contain the excitement festering in my body. I cant wait to go to work tomorrow!

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