Another Story I Started

Full of lies.
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Another Story I Started

Postby Ghost » Thu Feb 15, 2007 12:56 pm

On a shelf to the right of his desk, he had a little container full of starches; bread and crackers and, curiously, dinner rolls. This wouldn’t have been so depressing if the sandwich shelf didn’t sit directly below both a microwave and small refrigerator, the sort you’d find in a college dorm room. The poor man probably hadn’t left his desk for lunch in ages. In my mind he was living a miserable existence that consisted mainly of choking down turkey and mayonnaise sandwiches while typing out vague “reports” and, maybe, if he was lucky, a bit of filing.

I glanced down at my watch and cursed myself for not making an appointment. I had been sitting here an hour and a half and I was going mad already. This guy, Anthony Clark according to the placard, had likely been at this job since 1978. He was no longer an individual, no longer a person with thoughts and ideas and fears, he had become this office. He lived and breathed the worn out “executive chair” behind this ratty old desk. A lost cause. The various bric-a-brac (employee of the year cup, worlds best dad hat, and a figurine of a monkey at a computer) and cut out “Hi and Lois” cartoons stuck on the wall did nothing to dissuade my fears. The window behind the desk was nailed shut. Fitting.

After a minute or so I heard footsteps down the hall, finally, and as the door slid open, my fears were realized in the form of a tallish, balding individual wearing the sort of glasses that you only find in joke shops and on cartoon nerds. I’m looking him over and I am pretending like I never even saw the shirt he’s wearing, forcing it out of my mind. I’m taking in the braided brown belt (hideous), the pleated trousers (Jesus); I am now seeing only his white socks sadly on display in the 8 inch rift where the pnats should have hit the shoe (also hideous, but at least they match the belt). I could cry.

“Good afternoon mister…” he paused to scan his documents for my last name. I didn’t have that kind of time apparently, because I interrupted him. “Sellers.”

“Ah yes, here were are. Sellers comma Richard.”

I arched my eyebrows as he read my name. I am thinking, “My God, this man.”
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Postby MT » Thu Feb 15, 2007 6:55 pm

by the way, i'll get to these two stories eventually.
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Postby Oread » Fri Feb 16, 2007 9:09 am

I was thinking the same thing... it's not something you want to skim.

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