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Sunday, October 30, 2011

Out Of Smokes (maybe a series)

If you like this, please let me know. I will make a short series out of it. I just thought the concept would be funny and it's a way to get my mind off NOT smoking.


Although people don’t normally agree to this, there is a complete darkness in everybody, and the only thing keeping it in check is each person’s capacity to comprehend morals. It’s true that some have a natural tendency to reject everything vile, something about certain aspects of that soft chewy pitch black core just… disgusting them beyond words. This however is but a reflex, not something premeditated. Because, in reality, humans truly love being evil. In certain circles, especially in younger groups, being bad is considered a virtue, a merit, something to flaunt and something that can be used as currency to attract the opposite sex. The worse a teen is, the better the reputation.

This doesn’t work though for the regular adult, does it? You can’t have a three-piece handmade suit clad lawyer, graduated at Oxford, working for “Beelzebub, Baal and Steinmann”, going around the office cubicles and spitting in people’s coffee cups when they’re not looking. That would be ridiculous! Yet there’s no surprise when the same person purchases a regular piece of military hardware (let’s say an AK-47, because it’s still rather easy to find on the black market), marches in the office in the morning and starts shooting down his colleagues, as a side effect of being fired. Pun intended.

…Either way, a scenario with an adult acting despicable is just absurd. This is exactly why, once in a while, the Universe fucks a person up so badly, that there’s no morals left for that person to consider, and one such individual is born. The problem with these kind of situations is that, in those rare cases, when one loses the ability to conceive reality as a scary monster, one of those unfortunate people turns out to be extremely intelligent, creative and, why not, always in the mood for a good joke. You would expect the following story to be one about this kind of man, who despite being a dick in society’s ass, is so smart that you would find him adorable. It’s not. You don’t wake up one morning and feel like an evil genius, do you?

Brian has deep brown eyes, short brown hair and a brown sway jacket he loves to wear during fall. He’s a little underweight, though labelled as a tall man, usually wearing a calm expression in contradiction to what he is thinking about society. He is what Americans would call Average Joe. The problem with Americans being that they’re stupid and this fact is confirmed by the fact that all of Brian’s acquaintances think of him as being average because he seriously doesn’t give a shit. Brian’s miserable because he would rather be a photographer instead of an accountant, a hobby which he’s rather good at. Corroborated, these factors make him a sloppy working man, who has no aspirations and doesn’t care much about excelling in his job nor pursuing this activity as a career. He’s got intimacy issues, commitment issues and mommy issues, but he is definitely open to more because that’s just the kind of person he is.

“Good morning, Jerry” he said quietly as he locked down the front door.

“Hey, neighbour! Hope the music wasn’t too loud last night!” said the two-ton pack of muscles and grinned a bleached grin at Brian. “It got so wild, man!”

“What was the occasion?” Brian asked with fake interest, trying to juggle the briefcase, apartment keys, car keys, cell phone, cigarette pack and lighter, and a carton cup of coffee.

“Being incredibly awesome in the whole New York scene is reason enough. Oh yeah!” he said and grabbed his newspaper from the doormat.

“Yeah…” Brian replied absent-mindedly and tried a few time to push the elevator button. “I guess that can work… What time is it, Jerry?”

“Pfff! You have a watch – why are you asking me?” the bulky neighbour with a bad clubbing haircut said bitterly.

Brian tried indeed to see the time but only managed to spill some coffee on his leg. He jumped from the burn, dropping everything but the cup of coffee.

“Shit! …Fuck, this is just one of those damn mornings!”

“Ha! You’re such a joke, man! …It’s why I never invite you to my parties!” Jerry laughed and slammed the door.

Brian just looked calmly at the closed door and muttered “douchebag”. By the time he managed to pick everything up and actually place some of the items in his pockets, the elevator door opened and closed. Of course, everybody was going to work at… 8:05.

“Fuck this!” he shouted and turned around. He dropped the suitcase and pulled out his keys, walking back in his apartment and slamming the door loudly. Jerry peeked his head out and wanted to shout at the noisy neighbours but saw no one there.

“Amanda, hi! Listen, I’m sorry, but I can’t make it in today. I have the… flu! Yes, and I’m feverish… I just need the day off…” Brian tried to lie.

“I don’t care, Norris! You do a horrible job here and I would actually be relieved of not having to put up with you today, but I AM paying you and you have to come in!” the answer came in the form of a screechy voice. It was so annoying, Brian imagined the only way to block it was to scratch a blackboard with your fingernails.

“I can’t, I’m so sick I can barely find my way to the bathroom, Amanda!” he complained, trying to appeal to her better nature. It didn’t work. She didn’t have one.

“Then, and I’ve been waiting for a long time to say this, Norris, you’re FIRED! Feel free not to come and pick up your shit when you’re feeling better. Now… you’ve wasted enough of my time-“

“Come on! You can’t do this! What if-“

Click.

“Amanda? Hello? FUCK!”

Brian rammed the phone in the hook and kicked the chair, hurting his toe. He took a deep breath and started thinking logically. First, he would have to explain to his mother how he got fired, then he would start the painful process of finding a job and the even more agonizing one of going there every day. At least there was no Felicia this time to bitch about how insecure their future would be together…

The cigarette never tasted better. He flamed it slowly and sipped his coffee, sitting at the small kitchen table in complete silence. Jack, his cat, jumped in his lap and started purring and turning in a circle until he found the perfect position to crash lazily. He was rather ugly, Brian thought, looking at the thin orange and white feline. His cell phone rang.

“Hello?” he said with some effort.

“Mr. Norris, I’m calling you from the credit company. It seems you have missed the last payment on your car-“

“Yes, I know, I had some problems to take care of, but I assumed there is a safety period… I will pay all in full this month. I have to cash a paycheck in two days in fact.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t work like that. I have to file your papers today and if you don’t pay up… You know what that means” the guy’s voice said, sounding very arrogant and annoyed to have to make this particular call.

“Actually, I don’t know” Brian snapped, not capable of holding back anymore.

“We will mark you as a bad client, Mr. Norris, and you’ll be refused any more loans for the next five years. That’s what will happen, so I suggest you take a trip to the bank right now and pay your debt to us” the guy continued in a manner that royally pissed Brian off.

“Okay,” he said icily. “I didn’t catch your name?”

“Andy Perkins. Why do you need-?”

Brian downed the cup of coffee, put Jack down and grabbed the car keys. In a matter of minutes he was at the “Morrison & Thane”, with a frozen smile on his lips. He looked around at the desks and the bunch of people busy with phone calls and paperwork. Too busy to acknowledge his presence and too uncaring to say hello. He looked around and noticed the little fucker who had just called him, recognizing his name on the golden plaque on his desk. He was barely five feet tall, overweight, probably from the dozen doughnuts he swallowed every morning (just a couple more remaining in the open box on his desk), wearing a navy blue suit that barely fit him. Brian leaned against a pillar with murderous thoughts and just watched him sitting at his desk by the window and ordering the secretaries around while secretly checking out their asses. This was the kind of dickhead you’d expect to find in clubs after 2 A.M., pretending to be younger than he is, and a whole lot more virile. The type that drives a Mercedes even though he’s barely middle management. The kind that orders the most expensive drinks in bars just because he can and not because he likes them. He was also the kind of person who treated his clients like shit for the same reasons, not caring that they were actually working hard to pay their bills.

It made Brian grind his teeth and grab the long extension cord from the corner without even thinking. It was like God had placed it there, near the fax machine, to catch his eye. He moved like in a dream, automatically, his actions driven by something or someone unknown, walking by so casually that nobody noticed him. He tied the cord to Perkins’ armchair’s leg and went around a pillar, then tied the other end to a water tank and adjacent cart, close to the water cooler. Expertly, he lifted the tank with the special cart and pushed it to the elevator doors. It took a little effort to pull them open, but he did it without raising suspicion, and then dunked the cart, dashing off without watching the outcome. There was a scream of surprise as Andy Perkins was jerked back with the armchair on wheels under him flying off without warning. The chair slammed against the pillar and threw the fat bastard against the window.

Brian stopped by the crowd that grew larger and larger, louder and louder, commenting on the plummeting lard ball that lay dead, over a smashed windshield, head cracked and blood flowing freely and finally liberated from being tortured with sugar overdoses. Brian thought he should feel bad. After all, he didn’t try to actually kill the man, just hurt him on a scale from mildly injured to… this. Pondering about murder, he realized he really didn’t care. In his mind, that little fat fuck deserved it.

“What happened here?” a girl asked him quietly.

“I don’t know” he lied casually, without even looking at her. “I guess he finally decided to do the world a favour.”

“Oh” she giggled secretly. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Brian looked at the dark-haired goth-looking girl who worked the mail at “Morrison & Thane” and shook his head.

“I don’t” he said seriously. “He just looks the douchebag type…” Brian added with surprising sincerity.

“Wow!” she replied, widening her big black eyes at him. “You’re awesome, man! People usually try to be polite when speakin’ of the dead, but you just lay it out, don’t you? Respect, dude!”

He shrugged and offered a fake smile.

“Excuse me, I have to go” he said dismissively and walked away as fast as he could, considering the circumstances, with the dark haired girl shouting something at him and waving her hands.

Some time later he would wake up back in his kitchen, wondering if all those things really happened. Jack jumped back in his lap, performing the usual ritual.

“Yes, that really happened, in case you were wondering” the cat said.

“Huh!” he replied absent-mindedly.

“You don’t seem very surprised I can talk” Jack continued, looking up a little with his big yellow eyes.

“No, I knew you could talk. I just didn’t expect you to” Brian said and sipped the last drop of coffee from the carton cop. It tasted horribly.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I did. It felt… right.”

“You might want to answer that” the feline concluded and let his head rest on its paws, closing his eyes.

The cell phone rang annoyingly and Brian panicked for a second, just before answering it.

“Mr. Norris?” a girl’s voice asked in a familiar tone.

“The one and only.”

“My name is Becca. Your debt supervisor was involved in a terrible incident today and… has passed away. I’ll be taking over your file.”

“I’m sorry to hear that about Mr. Perkins. What can I do for you?” Brian replied, barely holding back from hysterical laughter.

“Well, sir, in fact I called to inform you of what I can do for you. Being that you’re a little late on your payments, I should make a note of this in the registry…”

“I actually wanted to come by and address that matter. I will make up for the payments this month – I’ll be coming into some money tomorrow actually.”

“…Okay, tell you what: I’ll give you 48 hours to make the payment. With everything being so crazy, let’s say the paperwork got… lost.”

“That’s great. Thank you so much!” Brian said and winked at the cat.

“Good. Don’t make me regret it, Mr. Norris. Have a good day!”

“You too!”

“How do you like being a killer?” Jack asked.

“Loving it.”

6 comments:

  1. "Yes, I like it" or "No, it sucks". So I know whether persue the subject or not. Writing is the only thing keeping me sane.

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  2. Loved it! I wonder why Brian reminds me so much of you...hmmm...:) But I said it before and I'll say it again, the cat rocks! I would have liked it not to be called Jack, though, because Jack - as a name, centerpiece character of my book and one of my four personalities and my favourite personality for that matter - is mine. Jack is mine for 10 years now. On the other hand, I have to admit it was a nice and strange coincidence that you named a talking (and kinda psycopath)cat with the same name I call everything that is dark, twisted, fascinating and out of this world in me. Well.. I'll enjoy the coincidence and won't give the matter too much thought, our Jacks are different and are not a threat to each other. They can both exist :) Back to the text now. It is very good. Lots of humor, well paced, Brian is a sweetheart and yes, your Jack is a doll :) So, considering your writing also keeps me sane, do the world a favour and let yourself go in pursuing the subject, which you already decided to do, so thank you in anticipation :)

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  3. Actually, I named the cat Jack 'cause my own tomcat is also called Jack. There was no real hidden meaning to it. I'll do more writing on this when I get the time - started Crux: Absolution but it seems rather forced at this moment, so I'm taking a break. Hope you enjoy "OOS".

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  4. Well, the Jack coincidence is absolutely cute in its own freakyness. I will enjoy OOS as long as you write it :)

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  5. Surprise, surprise..Brian reminds of you..I don't know you that much, but i got this feeling that Brian is somehow...you. I would've liked it better if Brian was surprised by Jack - the talker.(In a kind that would kill him too. :D But then who would pay his debts, right? And the story should have end here - you might say.)
    But, hello, that's Brian! He can't be surprised.
    So no surprises in this one?..

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