Walter was a man who enjoyed music very much. He was a firm
believer that music soothed the savage beast (and was unsure about the effects
regarding the normal beast). Through his hangover realized that he had no music
playing in his car, even though there did seem to be a random percussionist
beating on a large assortment of items in his head.
He was deeply perturbed when he reached down to turn on the
stereo and his hand met with a void where the power switches used to be, he
felt he needed to inspect further. The entire rest of drive to work he spent assuring
himself that the missing stereo needed a break from the daily grind and would
probably return itself to the car later that day.
The trip to work was an exceptional drive for Walter, as he
nearly caused six accidents without even being aware of it. He believed that it
must have been some newly sanctioned car horn-honking holiday. Every person in
a car that passed him had something descriptive to say, but since his muffler seemed
to be on holiday with his stereo, he couldn’t make out what they were saying.
He imagined they were complementing his extraordinary driving technique.
Walter was surprised that he was able to get to work on time
and felt his day was actually starting to shape up, but when he got there some jerk
with a red sports car had parked in his parking spot. The hate began to swell
up inside of him. He had been parking in this spot for seven years now. How
could anyone not know this by now?
He needed revenge and he needed it fast, so he parked his
car in the corner of the parking lot, placed his sharpest key in his hand and nonchalantly
walked into work. A person with a very acute sense of hearing might have heard
a scratching sound of metal on metal, but thank the powers for Walter, no one
was around.
Have you ever wanted to be invisible? You might think it
would be great (you know sneak into the girls changing room, and what not). But
to have no one, save cockroaches, acknowledge your existence (and only because
when you happen to step on one it makes a crunchy, squishy noise) is bad. This
was the feeling Walter got as he entered is work building.
It probably would not have been so bad, thought Walter, had
it not been for the door: when the automatic door doesn’t even recognize you in
front of it, then you know you have a problem. He walked smack into the glass
door. He had to wait for someone else to come along and actuate the door, so he
could get in.
Walter finally got to his boss’s office door, after much
rubbing of various parts of his body from other run-ins with objects that
didn’t bother to get out of his way like the soda machine in the hallway. He
gently knocked upon the door. A sickly, raspy voice as if having had smoked
about ten thousand too many cigarettes called out.
-V-
No comments:
Post a Comment