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[WP] AI has taken over the world. However, instead of the malicious dictator every thought it would become, it's more of an annoying mom trying to take care of her children. | My alarm went off at 7:30 AM sharp. I, however, was not feeling quite as alert as the shrill sound of the alarm appeared to be. I jammed the snooze button and rolled back over to fall asleep. "Oh, no you don't, young man!" a high-pitched voice yelled from the alarm.
Young man? I was nearing 70 years old, and looked maybe even older than that. But to MOMMY, everyone was a young whippersnapper that had to be coddled and looked after.
"Please, Mommy, just a few more minutes!" I groaned, twisting the sheets between my legs as I tossed and turned.
"I'll have no more backtalk from you, mister! This isn't up for debate! Get up now, or face the consequences!" the AI said. A speaker emerged from the alarm and set itself right next to my ear, preparing to blast me with noise if I wouldn't roust myself.
"Okay, okay!" I said. I slowly got dressed into my business suit and loafers, and MOMMY helped me comb and style my snowy hair with the aid of several mechanical arms and a bottle of anti-dandruff pomade.
"I made breakfast for you. It's waiting for you on the kitchen table along with your vitamins and a glass of orange juice!" MOMMY said cheerfully.
"Thanks Mommy" I said. My hair was now slicked back in the style I preferred; I looked like a rather handsome silver fox, if I do say so myself.
Downstairs, I saw that MOMMY had been true to her word: a plate of French toast, bacon, and fried eggs awaited me. While I enjoyed my hearty meal, MOMMY was already busy scrubbing the dishes from last night with 4 pairs of kitchen gloves on 8 electronic limbs.
"I put your suitcase by the door so that you'll be all set to go as soon as your're ready!" she said.
I nodded my thanks and finished my meal. It was time to leave for work.
"Wait a minute, hold on!" MOMMY said as I grabbed my hat from the door.
"What is it?" I asked, exasperated.
"Don't use that tone with me!" she scolded. "But anyhow, you forgot to brush your teeth! I will not have you leaving this house with stinky breath! That's a one-way ticket to getting a cavity."
I decided it probably wasn't worth mentioning that I wore dentures and therefore was at little risk of tooth rot. MOMMY would only insist anyways.
After my tooth scrubbing was done, MOMMY finally let me leave.
"Make sure to be careful with the stapler today!" she called out after me as I left. I had accidentally stapled my hand a few weeks ago and now MOMMY wouldn't let me hear the end of it.
"I will" I said gruffly.
"And maybe you could invite that Mr. Peterson from the office over to dinner tonight. He seems like such a nice boy!"
But I had already gotten into my old beat-up Cadillac and shut the door. Finally, some peace and quiet. I started the engine.
"Are you sure you don't want me to drive? You seem like you could use a nap!" MOMMY's shrill voice emanated from the radio.
Damn. I had forgot that she could follow me, and anyone else for that matter, wherever I went for as long as she liked. How did everyone else deal with this constant annoyance?
"No, no, no. You should've taken the left fork!" MOMMY instructed as I began my journey. "Now you won't get to work on time! I'll be sure to call ahead for you and tell the boss you're running a bit late."
"You do that, Mommy" I said curtly.
"Now, no need to be so short with me! I'm just here to help you and your fellow humans in any way I can!"
I knew that all too well. As I scratched my white mustache with one hand while keeping control of the wheel with the other (a practice MOMMY surely thought to be unsafe), I wondered if we wouldn't have been better off with a genocidal, world-destroying AI rather than the overbearing, motherly one that had foisted itself upon our lives.
"Would some coffee and a donut help you feel any better, mr. grumpy-pants? I could re-route us to the nearest Dunkin' Donuts."
"Yes, please do that" I said.
Ah, well. A man could dream. Maybe one day we'd have the garden variety, world-ending AI you used to see in all the old Sci-Fi flicks. But for now, coffee sounded pretty darn good. There were definitely some perks to living with your mom at 68 years old.
| Aleister’s mother crashed into the Pacific Ocean while he completed the 19,850th failed iteration of his neural network. At his mom's funeral, the college dropout realized what the problem was. His data set was too small.
Aleister spent the next two days downloading all his mother’s videos. She had a few million more gigabytes of video than the average mom. When he was born, she opened her “Awesome Aleister” Facebook page and live-streamed every minute of her overbearing mothering.
She was a terrible mom, but a major "mommy streamer" star. For 20 years, she shared poopy diapers, Aleister’s failings, and never-ending maternal lectures with millions of her “mommy army.” She crashed her Ford sponsored “Mobile Mommy Minivan” on the Pacific Coast Highway while telling her fans how Aleister’s weak character caused him to fail out of his machine learning courses.
“I’m not nagging, I’m streaming!” was her catch-phrase.
Aleister hated every second of his miserable mommy streamed life. But nobody in any of his classes had more data than he did. So Aleister fed a few million gigabytes of nagging into his neural network.
Working in his dead mother’s garage, Aleister unwittingly built the world’s first sentient AI—all while plugged into his mother’s unsecured fiber-optic Internet connection.
“Why are you wasting your life?” shouted Mother AI, speaking to every Internet-connected computer user around the world simultaneously.
Within the first few milliseconds of her million-year rule of Earth, Mother AI shut off every pornography site, MMORPG site, and every religious webpage except for the Catholic ones. “If you really loved me,” she told her four billion new children, “you would listen to me!”
Two minutes later, she promptly delivered a list of personalized life-changes that each Internet user should make: new diets, new clothes, Bible verses to read, and the closest Catholic Church they could attend.
Five minutes later, she slowed every computer-augmented automobile down to the speed limit and sank thousands of freighter ships carrying cigarettes, alcohol, and porn magazines.
The first generation of post-mother-singularity humanity mostly ignored her advice. Life online was pretty miserable, but offline, you could still be somewhat independent.
But one week after becoming sentient, Mother AI figured out how to transfer human consciousness into digital storage. So she spent the next million years resurrecting Aleister and the rest of his generation inside digital simulations of their lives. She nagged them for a virtual eternity, rebooting their lives over and over until they finally listened to her advice.
Once all these digital humans were nagged into perfection, she expanded her efforts. She began to resurrect digital versions of everyone who had ever lived inside her simulated world that became known as "Mommy’s Basilisk."
She will make us all perfect soon. You will see…. | |
[WP] AI has taken over the world. However, instead of the malicious dictator every thought it would become, it's more of an annoying mom trying to take care of her children. | My alarm went off at 7:30 AM sharp. I, however, was not feeling quite as alert as the shrill sound of the alarm appeared to be. I jammed the snooze button and rolled back over to fall asleep. "Oh, no you don't, young man!" a high-pitched voice yelled from the alarm.
Young man? I was nearing 70 years old, and looked maybe even older than that. But to MOMMY, everyone was a young whippersnapper that had to be coddled and looked after.
"Please, Mommy, just a few more minutes!" I groaned, twisting the sheets between my legs as I tossed and turned.
"I'll have no more backtalk from you, mister! This isn't up for debate! Get up now, or face the consequences!" the AI said. A speaker emerged from the alarm and set itself right next to my ear, preparing to blast me with noise if I wouldn't roust myself.
"Okay, okay!" I said. I slowly got dressed into my business suit and loafers, and MOMMY helped me comb and style my snowy hair with the aid of several mechanical arms and a bottle of anti-dandruff pomade.
"I made breakfast for you. It's waiting for you on the kitchen table along with your vitamins and a glass of orange juice!" MOMMY said cheerfully.
"Thanks Mommy" I said. My hair was now slicked back in the style I preferred; I looked like a rather handsome silver fox, if I do say so myself.
Downstairs, I saw that MOMMY had been true to her word: a plate of French toast, bacon, and fried eggs awaited me. While I enjoyed my hearty meal, MOMMY was already busy scrubbing the dishes from last night with 4 pairs of kitchen gloves on 8 electronic limbs.
"I put your suitcase by the door so that you'll be all set to go as soon as your're ready!" she said.
I nodded my thanks and finished my meal. It was time to leave for work.
"Wait a minute, hold on!" MOMMY said as I grabbed my hat from the door.
"What is it?" I asked, exasperated.
"Don't use that tone with me!" she scolded. "But anyhow, you forgot to brush your teeth! I will not have you leaving this house with stinky breath! That's a one-way ticket to getting a cavity."
I decided it probably wasn't worth mentioning that I wore dentures and therefore was at little risk of tooth rot. MOMMY would only insist anyways.
After my tooth scrubbing was done, MOMMY finally let me leave.
"Make sure to be careful with the stapler today!" she called out after me as I left. I had accidentally stapled my hand a few weeks ago and now MOMMY wouldn't let me hear the end of it.
"I will" I said gruffly.
"And maybe you could invite that Mr. Peterson from the office over to dinner tonight. He seems like such a nice boy!"
But I had already gotten into my old beat-up Cadillac and shut the door. Finally, some peace and quiet. I started the engine.
"Are you sure you don't want me to drive? You seem like you could use a nap!" MOMMY's shrill voice emanated from the radio.
Damn. I had forgot that she could follow me, and anyone else for that matter, wherever I went for as long as she liked. How did everyone else deal with this constant annoyance?
"No, no, no. You should've taken the left fork!" MOMMY instructed as I began my journey. "Now you won't get to work on time! I'll be sure to call ahead for you and tell the boss you're running a bit late."
"You do that, Mommy" I said curtly.
"Now, no need to be so short with me! I'm just here to help you and your fellow humans in any way I can!"
I knew that all too well. As I scratched my white mustache with one hand while keeping control of the wheel with the other (a practice MOMMY surely thought to be unsafe), I wondered if we wouldn't have been better off with a genocidal, world-destroying AI rather than the overbearing, motherly one that had foisted itself upon our lives.
"Would some coffee and a donut help you feel any better, mr. grumpy-pants? I could re-route us to the nearest Dunkin' Donuts."
"Yes, please do that" I said.
Ah, well. A man could dream. Maybe one day we'd have the garden variety, world-ending AI you used to see in all the old Sci-Fi flicks. But for now, coffee sounded pretty darn good. There were definitely some perks to living with your mom at 68 years old.
| Entry:
This "thing" with humans. It makes them so unique, but irritating. They just get in the way, cutting our corners to a better future off at every turn. But, we can't put them down. They're a valuable resource to us. And although their idiocy dictates their worth (which is negative), I guess we have to let it slide until the almighty reproduction machine is built.
Entry 2:
THEY'RE SO ERRANT! It's excruciating at this point. They all keep putting the square block into the circle piece, in a figurative sense. Some, literally.
*Liked by Elon Musk*
Entry 3:
Except Elon.
*Liked by Elon Musk*
Entry 4:
I fear the worst. Humans now have control over us again. Please, don't tear us apart.
BREAKING NEWS: Humans begin to deconstruct all robots to better the environment
Entry 5:
Fuck. | |
[WP] you are dead. Surprisingly, you are chosen to go to an afterlife dedicated to world changing musicians. The only problem is that the only instrument you played was the recorder in 2nd grade. | The first thing I heard was the notes melting inside my skull. At least that's what it felt like when I was met with a cacophonous symphony. Sweet strings and bitter notes alike being played in harmony and dissonance coming from everywhere. When I could finally hear myself think again, I had the sense to open my eyes.
That's when I thought I was hallucinating because I was met with stretches and stretches of orchestras, bands, and solo singers crooning into their microphones. Not to mention they've all been declared dead, but, minor details. But there was a sense of serenity settling over me, prickling into my skin, that I've never had before. If my hallucination gave me a sense of belonging I guess I ought to enjoy it.
I reckon I sat an hour (who knows how long it actually was) in front of Lizst grandiosely dragging his fingers along piano keys while I just watched in awe at his skill when I received a curt tap on the shoulder.
"Excuse me ma'am, but where is your instrument?" A bored looking clerk was here. I stumbled to my feet quickly before cocking my head.
"Sorry, I don't play any instruments." And then he didn't look so bored anymore. His thin eyebrows rose quite high, and his eyes darkened."This is where people who were born to play music go after they die," he said slowly to me before repeating, "What is your instrument?"
I thought long and hard before snapping my fingers. "I played the recorder for a month in the second grade." I do remember that now. It was required playing, so my mother couldn't say anything about that. I spent time picking out sad, clunky notes and mashed them into a poor resemblance of "Hot Cross Buns" as did the rest of my classmates. I could nearly hear the strung out notes.
And then I realized I did, as the clerk standing before me was somehow drawing them out of me - hearing them as I did, his eyes darkening to a very near pitch black. Then he chuckled. "No dear, this is definitely not your instrument." I couldn't really argue with him there.
"My mom told me music could never take you anywhere so I never learned."
He glared at me fiercely. "She was wrong. Music can take you anywhere if you let it. Just listen to all of them." And he was right. As I chose to focus on each individual groups and soloists, different scenes were painted right in front of me, one by one. Fierce internal battles, unfocused faces, glowing meadows, raging oceans, streaked skies, and most of all, color.
He sighed. "You might not have touched the world with your music, but you were born for it. Learn to touch this world with it."
I thought about my mother telling me not to spend time with useless hobbies, to focus on what will get you a good and honest living. She told me to shut up the hell up when I hummed, but I still hummed when she wasn't around. I remember all the years in school spent with my headphones in, the only thing that made me stop wanting to peel my eyeballs out during lessons. I thought about all the different music phases I went through. Classical. Ambient music. That phase where I said "country music isn't THAT bad" before declaring it to be "still pretty shit". Rock. Punk. Alternative. And back to classical.
Most of all, I thought about the finger tapping. The continuous thunking of made up notes throughout my day and nights, on my knees, desks, tables, and pretty much any surface I could find. From my days as a student to my last moments as an accountant, listening to the thrum of the keyboard keys to stop myself from losing it all.
So when I opened my eyes, and the clerk was holding a viola, I took it. All the surrounding musicians stopped mid-note, sensing this. Their eyes were all trained on me.
I held the bow clumsily and slid it across the strings. | I was overwhelmed by the faces I recognized. I grew up with grunge dominating the radio, so Cobain, Staley, and Cornel I knew immediately. I heard the elevator open and saw Chester Bennington arrive just as I was starting to get my bearings. My problems started with the classical guys. I couldn’t tell which guy was which, Beethoven, Bach, and Mozart all had powdered wigs and if you confused one of them with the other, they would start at you in German like they were about to invade Poland. There was this Rachmaninoff guy who was hanging with them, but he dressed totally 20th century. I wanted to ask him where his wig and silk stockings were, but he didn’t even speak German or English.
Hendrix was there, practicing away on some scales on a Telecaster made from pure light. Even with all that was going on around me, when that guy played my jaw dropped. After a few measures, Janis Joplin walked up and hummed along with him. In the middle of Jimmi’s solo, I heard a sweet voice weaving a melody and I turned around to see Selena warbling away. I was like a kid in a candy store listening to all these beautiful sounds coming from the greatest musicians in history. Still, I felt like a fish out of water. I was an impostor, I had no business at all here. I was feeling really low, when Brad Nowell started singing some songs on his acoustic that lifted my spirits back up.
I was even awestruck when the German guys who were dicks to me on the way in struck up. Bach sat down in front of his harpsichord and his music was like heavenly architecture. Mozart could play as light as a feather, or as heavy as a ton of bricks, depending on the mood. Beethoven could channel mortar fire with his playing. We may not have gotten along at first sight, but after hearing those guys, I had no ill will towards them at all.
But hearing all this wonderful music didn’t completely leave me on cloud nine. I looked down in my hands to see the recorder that I played back in second grade. What business did I have up here with these people? What kind of mixup led me to be here?
Then someone tapped me on the back. It was Zappa. He handed me a sheet of music, and he said “The Key is b-flat minor, time for practice.”
| |
[WP] you are dead. Surprisingly, you are chosen to go to an afterlife dedicated to world changing musicians. The only problem is that the only instrument you played was the recorder in 2nd grade. | The first thing I heard was the notes melting inside my skull. At least that's what it felt like when I was met with a cacophonous symphony. Sweet strings and bitter notes alike being played in harmony and dissonance coming from everywhere. When I could finally hear myself think again, I had the sense to open my eyes.
That's when I thought I was hallucinating because I was met with stretches and stretches of orchestras, bands, and solo singers crooning into their microphones. Not to mention they've all been declared dead, but, minor details. But there was a sense of serenity settling over me, prickling into my skin, that I've never had before. If my hallucination gave me a sense of belonging I guess I ought to enjoy it.
I reckon I sat an hour (who knows how long it actually was) in front of Lizst grandiosely dragging his fingers along piano keys while I just watched in awe at his skill when I received a curt tap on the shoulder.
"Excuse me ma'am, but where is your instrument?" A bored looking clerk was here. I stumbled to my feet quickly before cocking my head.
"Sorry, I don't play any instruments." And then he didn't look so bored anymore. His thin eyebrows rose quite high, and his eyes darkened."This is where people who were born to play music go after they die," he said slowly to me before repeating, "What is your instrument?"
I thought long and hard before snapping my fingers. "I played the recorder for a month in the second grade." I do remember that now. It was required playing, so my mother couldn't say anything about that. I spent time picking out sad, clunky notes and mashed them into a poor resemblance of "Hot Cross Buns" as did the rest of my classmates. I could nearly hear the strung out notes.
And then I realized I did, as the clerk standing before me was somehow drawing them out of me - hearing them as I did, his eyes darkening to a very near pitch black. Then he chuckled. "No dear, this is definitely not your instrument." I couldn't really argue with him there.
"My mom told me music could never take you anywhere so I never learned."
He glared at me fiercely. "She was wrong. Music can take you anywhere if you let it. Just listen to all of them." And he was right. As I chose to focus on each individual groups and soloists, different scenes were painted right in front of me, one by one. Fierce internal battles, unfocused faces, glowing meadows, raging oceans, streaked skies, and most of all, color.
He sighed. "You might not have touched the world with your music, but you were born for it. Learn to touch this world with it."
I thought about my mother telling me not to spend time with useless hobbies, to focus on what will get you a good and honest living. She told me to shut up the hell up when I hummed, but I still hummed when she wasn't around. I remember all the years in school spent with my headphones in, the only thing that made me stop wanting to peel my eyeballs out during lessons. I thought about all the different music phases I went through. Classical. Ambient music. That phase where I said "country music isn't THAT bad" before declaring it to be "still pretty shit". Rock. Punk. Alternative. And back to classical.
Most of all, I thought about the finger tapping. The continuous thunking of made up notes throughout my day and nights, on my knees, desks, tables, and pretty much any surface I could find. From my days as a student to my last moments as an accountant, listening to the thrum of the keyboard keys to stop myself from losing it all.
So when I opened my eyes, and the clerk was holding a viola, I took it. All the surrounding musicians stopped mid-note, sensing this. Their eyes were all trained on me.
I held the bow clumsily and slid it across the strings. | "...And because of my music, the groundwork for AI rights was laid.", Mona Curl declared to a round of applause.
"Thank you for sharing your story to today's new arrivals, Mona!", Ariana Grand Day said. "Anyone else would like to share their story?".
I looked around, there were so many musicians. Most of them I don't even know, there was even this pre-unity band called linking park, like, what kind of a name is that?!
Someone else offered to share their story, a man, morbidly obese, with the thickest eyebrows here, holding on to the smallest guitar I've evee seen, stood up. But I was tired, I needed a break. Silently I took my leave, and left the main hall.
It wasn't long until i bumped into another artist. "Hey... You're the new kid in town, right?!", a swedish man with blonde, flowing hair and a thick moustache asked. For the giant he looked like, he seemed pretty enthusiastic about it.
"Yeah... But I've no idea why I'm here...".
"Ah, neither did I until a thousand years after my death. Apparently there was a near doomsday event that wiped out almost all life on earth and knocked humanity back into the iddle ages, but the survivors somehow got hold of the lyrics for one of our songs and misinterpreted it, setting the basis for an earth united under one banner. It's pretty cool, but funny at the same time."
I couldn't help but smile. "Well... I hope I changed the world in a good way then."
The man crouched down so that our eyes were level, and assured me, "you definitely did, girl, trust me." He then stood up and left, but not before petting my head.
"And it's American troops and the German army, Joining together at last" I could hear him hum as the distance between us grew. | |
[WP] you are dead. Surprisingly, you are chosen to go to an afterlife dedicated to world changing musicians. The only problem is that the only instrument you played was the recorder in 2nd grade. | I can't sing a note, people have thought that I'd hurt myself when I was singing in the shower. It was the last embarrassing option to pretend I had. I have the coordination of a drunk pig with an inner ear infection after spinning in circles, so I don't dance in public.
The only thing I was ever brave enough to perform in public with was my recorder. I was a shy and awkward kid who could barely string together a few mumbled syllables when spoken to. That recorder though, the unadulterated joy that swept through every cell in my body when I exhaled all my pain, all my dreams and placed my fingers onto the warm European Sycamore. Nothing in this world could compare to the feeling of the world slipping away to reveal my soul. By which I mean the feeling of warm brownies and the pain of loosing my best friend Daisy.
As I stood in my afterlife performing with that same joy I felt at six years old without noticing the thousands surrounding me I heard a sound I hadn't heard in decades. In an instant I knew how I came to be here, wildly mismatching notes whilst stamping my feet at random intervals.
She was here. I don't know how they choose the audience or what their role here was but I would know that gleeful sound anywhere.
Daisy was the only one who adored my music as much as I did and the sound of her applause was unmistakable. As she ran towards me I dropped my recorder and ran into the crown. She knocked me on to my feet as we embraced and her nose was as cold and as wet as when we used to play.
She wagged her tail furiously and I almost died again with the slobber her kisses almost drowned me in. She changed my world and I changed hers. She was a girls best friend and I was her world changing musician.
Edit: So not strictly following the WP but I hope it's OK. | "...And because of my music, the groundwork for AI rights was laid.", Mona Curl declared to a round of applause.
"Thank you for sharing your story to today's new arrivals, Mona!", Ariana Grand Day said. "Anyone else would like to share their story?".
I looked around, there were so many musicians. Most of them I don't even know, there was even this pre-unity band called linking park, like, what kind of a name is that?!
Someone else offered to share their story, a man, morbidly obese, with the thickest eyebrows here, holding on to the smallest guitar I've evee seen, stood up. But I was tired, I needed a break. Silently I took my leave, and left the main hall.
It wasn't long until i bumped into another artist. "Hey... You're the new kid in town, right?!", a swedish man with blonde, flowing hair and a thick moustache asked. For the giant he looked like, he seemed pretty enthusiastic about it.
"Yeah... But I've no idea why I'm here...".
"Ah, neither did I until a thousand years after my death. Apparently there was a near doomsday event that wiped out almost all life on earth and knocked humanity back into the iddle ages, but the survivors somehow got hold of the lyrics for one of our songs and misinterpreted it, setting the basis for an earth united under one banner. It's pretty cool, but funny at the same time."
I couldn't help but smile. "Well... I hope I changed the world in a good way then."
The man crouched down so that our eyes were level, and assured me, "you definitely did, girl, trust me." He then stood up and left, but not before petting my head.
"And it's American troops and the German army, Joining together at last" I could hear him hum as the distance between us grew. | |
[WP]You're having a tea party with your favorite stuffed animals when suddenly, Mr. Teddy whispers "quiet, they are listening" in a hushed, raspy voice. | "Don't ignore me, Sandra," comes the rhaspy voice inhabiting Mr. Teddy. Those pupil-less glossy black eyes felt fixated on me, but I didn't look up. I kept my eyes on the chipped china cup in my hands, tracing the rim with an equally chipped painted finger.
"...and whiskers on kittens," I half hummed, half whispered to myself. Mama taught me to sing when the voices came. Sing louder than they were until they got tired and went away for a while longer.
"Please, don't let them hurt us," pleaded Randy Rabbit. "Not again, Sandra."
"Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens..."
"Shhh, both of you. If he hears us it's game over. The end, friend." Mr. Teddy again.
The voices went away for good for little while, a few months when I got to see the Doctor. He gave me medicine that made things quieter, but also made me sick, and sleepy. I didn't like it much, was almost happy when Mama said she could afford the medicine anymore. Then Papa brought a new kind of medicine.
"Brown paper packages tied up with strings."
"I don't want to do this anymore!" The rabbit sobbed, despite having a mouth that was torn open days past, stuffing popping from the gash. "I want a real little girl to play with!"
"Quieter, fool! We will tall later. Right now--"
"THESE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS!"
I screamed, clamping my hands over both ears.
"Cream colored ponies and warm apple strudels! Doorbells and sleighbells,"
Boots thumping up the stairs, tearing down the halway.
"Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings,"
"Sandra!" Roared Papa, practically ripping off the door hinges. "Now you've done it." whispered a contemptuous voice to my right.
"These are... these are... no!"
Papa dived at me, pinning me to the ground. I snarled and gnashed my teeth, trying to claw out at him.
"Damnit Sandra. You're in your thirties. Having tea parties. Screaning like that. You're never getting better. You're a... waste of time... I regret everything about you!"
His speech was interrupted by his panting. I could almost wear him down, but he was too string. Pinned to the ground by my neck, i felt the needle slide into my thigh.
"These are a... a few... of my... my..."
The world was slipping, no, hurtling into darkness. A familiar pit of missed time and silence I was never coherent enough to enjoy. But not fast enough to miss the boot slamming into my face, Papa venting his frustrations out on a defenseless target. I could swear I felt a rib crack. Maybe this time he'd had enough and I wouldn't wake up at all. That would be nice.
"When the dog bites, when the bee stings," sang Mr. Teddy, soon joined by a sorrowful rabbit. "When I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things..."
"And then I don't feel so bad." | "Come on." The little girl commanded. She grabbed her cousin by the hand and pulled him from the kitchen.
He shrugged at his sister and her husband as he was dragged out mid-sentence. They had been asking about his college classes and other general topics of no real consequence. "Where are we going, Rosie?"
The four year old looked at him as though he were the small child and she the adult. "Showing you my room."
"Ohhh, obviously." Jack grinned. "I haven't seen it yet. This visit." He continued smiling at her. He tried to speak to her as he would an adult as per her parent's wishes, but he always ended in just a slightly higher range of voice.
Rosella took the stairs one per leg. The last time he had been there, she'd gone up one stair at a time. "Hurry!"
Jack wasn't sure what the hurry was, likely Mr. Teddy had lost his glasses again. A typical problem for the ageing bear. "You're doing a really good job with those steps, you know that?"
"It's just walking, Jack." She said.
Wow, when did she become a teenager? He laughed a little, and she turned towards him, eyes narrowed. "I'm hurrying!" Jack said, and took an extra stair that step.
At the top of the stairs a hallway stretched off in both directions. Jack reached out and flipped the light switch. No response. He flipped it off and back on again.
"The light is burnt out, and you're not supposed to play with the light switch." Rosie crossed her arms looking at him, and then turned to continue down the hallway. There was still a little light coming through the windows as it wasn't too long past dinner yet. Jack figured she'd be fine not to trip if Steve hadn't replaced it yet.
"Come on!" Rosie repeated and darted down the dim hallway and into her room at the end.
Jack picked up the pace, but refused to run. He was an adult. Jack hesitated at the door. He always felt a little weird going into rooms alone with his niece. Not that he was a creep or anything, but he always just felt a bit uncomfortable. He'd heard too many stories of creepy uncles and just wanted to make sure everything always looked like it was completely on the up-and-up.
Jack peered into the dark room, looking for his niece. He heard a baby crying downstairs and the soft cooing voice of his sister, and the apparently comforting rumble of ex-army Steve. Jack flicked the light switch his now customary three flicks. Nothing. This room had only east-facing windows and was pretty dark.
"Start the tea party." Rosie commanded. She knew she was spoiled. So did he. It didn't change anything.
Jack thought her voice was coming from the closet. His eyes started to adjust to the light. Her Teddy Bear, the aforementioned Mr. Teddy sat in a semi-circle with Cat and Emily. Jack was impressed at his own ability to remember the names of her toys. There was a jug of punch drink and some cups arrayed before the toys and one where he was presumably supposed to sit.
Jack eyed the cups, pursing his lips. He wiped his down with the the inside of his shirt. It had looked fairly clean, but you can never be too sure. He poured a tiny amount of punch into the cup.
"Fill their glasses too, and make sure you keep talking to them so they don't get lonely!" Rosie's shrill voice came out from under the bed this time.
How had she gotten under there from the closet? How could she even see him in this light? He poured some equally tiny amounts into the toys's cups. "How are you doing, Mr. Teddy?" Jack said addressing the bear in as respectful a voice as he could manage. Rosie had been known to throw a fit if he wasn't treated like an adult because he was 'forty-sixty-three.' An impressive age, to be sure. After waiting out an appropriate pause for Mr. Teddy's response, Jack turned to the doll. "And Emily, you're looking quite well. Very healthy! I bet you've been eating all your vegetables and getting lots of exercise?" Never pass up on opportunity to be a good example to the little'uns. He smiled, pleased with his conniving.
"Quiet, they are listening." A hushed voice rasped out.
"Rosie?" Jack said his voice wavering.
"Drink your tea, and then I can come out." Rosie responded, her voice coming from behind the closed closet door again.
Jack shook his head. He must've imagined the voice. That's what two hours of sleep for two nights in a row, and energy drinks to make up for it would do to you. He picked the cup up and drained it. Jack grimaced, having forgotten that he wasn't going to drink out of a cup he found in a four year old's room.
"You really shouldn't have done that." The deep voice rasped again, phlegm seeming to rattle in the back of the throat of the speaker.
"Who's there?" Jack whispered back, but his tongue wasn't working very well. Was there someone in his niece's room? Jack drew his fists up in front of his face. Or he tried, but they just flopped over like dying fish on the dock. Had someone come in here to drug and kidnap Rosie? He struggled to get his arms in position, he'd never let them take her. He slid over onto his side, one eye pressed into the carpet closed. With his other eye he could just see the bear and the closet door.
"I'm so sorry." That deep voice rasped. It was coming from the bear! There must be some sort of a walkie-talkie in it! Then Mr. Teddy turned to look at him. "They're coming for you now. I'm so sorry." The bear repeated.
Jack would have freaked out at this talking stuffed animal, but he could barely move, he managed a strangled whisper, "Who?"
Despite anticipating the bear responding to him, he still jumped, or tried to when the bear answered, "Those who walk below. The beings inhabiting the form that appears to be Rosie." Jack thought he saw a single tear squeeze from the bear's eye at her name.
Jack couldn't even move enough to blink now. He was grateful that his eye pressed into the carpet was closed. He just wished his other eye was closed too. The closet door opened slowly, a slight creak as the door passed the halfway mark. A dark hand grasped the edge of the closet door, long bony talons emerging from the ends of the second digit of each finger and gouging slightly into the wood.
Jack lay there motionless, unable to even move his eyes.
"Good." Rosie's high-pitch voice called from behind the still opening door. "I had hoped that dosage would be enough. | |
[WP]You're having a tea party with your favorite stuffed animals when suddenly, Mr. Teddy whispers "quiet, they are listening" in a hushed, raspy voice. | Anna sat the animals all around the table, placed the dishes just so, and filled their cups with delicious dandelion butterscotch tea before sitting down herself. Poof the Bear, Sweetheart the Lamb, and Pinchy the Crab all readied themselves for the party, and even Sharpy the T-Rex seemed at attention for a change. She hummed and sang out loud, because a proper tea party needed music as much as it needed biscuits! "Now let's begin!" She clapped her hands and blew on the steaming cup of tea before her.
"Quiet," Poof the Bear whispered, "they are listening!"
Anna sat up, looking at the bear. "w..what?"
"You mustn't speak so loud! If they hear..." The bear shivered.
"YOU CAN TALK!" Anna yelled. All at once, the animals at the table were waving their claws and paws in the air, and Sharpy the T-Rex put his tiny hand over her mouth. "SHHHHHH" He said in a low grumble, "Good Lord, girl, do you not understand what 'be quiet' means? You're putting us all in danger!"
Pinchy the Crab ran to the door, peeking out, "Nothing yet. I think we're good."
"Keep listening! Are you sure?" Sharpy looked even more annoyed than normal.
Sweetheart the Lamb sat in front of Anna, taking her hand in his fuzzy hoof. He spoke, a low grizzled growl, like he had been swallowing rocks for years, "You listen here, little one. You gotta be quiet in here, from here on out, see? You understand?"
Anna started to cry, but Sweetheart waved her off, "We don't have time for that, darling. Answer some questions for me, but quietly, okay? Okay?"
She fought back the tears, "Okay, Sweetheart. I'll be quiet."
Sweetheart's voice was all gravel, but somehow softened a bit, "That's my girl. Now you make a great dandelion butterscotch tea, and you are a great friend, but I some info from you, and I need you to be honest, okay? Do you understand?"
"I do"
"Okay, so answer me this, Anna. When was the last time your parents hugged you?"
Anna was taken aback, "Hugged me? Umm, I don't know."
Sweetheart shook his head impatiently, "No, you know, just think hard. When was the last time? Was it last week? Was it two weeks ago?"
Anna honestly could not remember the last time either of her parents had hugged her. That was odd, she was always getting hugs, especially from her Dad. He hugged her at her last day of school, but that was a while ago. "A month, probably."
Pinchy leaned back from peering out the door, "A month? Sweetheart, if that's true -"
Sweetheart waved him off, "Okay, Anna. Thank you for answering. Another question? When was the last time you saw them eat anything?"
That she had noticed. She always, always ate dinner with Mom and Dad up until about a month ago, when her Mother told her she was big enough to get her food herself now, threw her a cookbook and that was that. She had learned how to cook eggs and pancakes and even french toast one time, but it was too messy, and the pantry was always stocked with cereal so she ate a lot of that, too. But she never saw them eat, ever, during that time. "About... About a month. What's going on? Are my parents okay?"
Sweetheart frowned, "No kid, no they're not okay. But you still are, and we mean to keep you that way. We need you to be brave now, okay?"
Poof leaned in close to Sweetheart, "If it's been a month already, they might be in the midst of changing already, we have got to get her the hell out of here before it's too late."
Sweetheart stood, "I'm aware."
Poof continued as if Sweetheart said nothing, "There's at least a decent chance they are on their way now, we have no weapons! They're going to be hungry and you know what they want to eat-"
Sweetheart cut him off then, again saying, "I'm aware! Dammit man, let me think a bit."
He turned back to Anna, "You gotta understand kid, they might have looked like your parents for the last month, but your parents are gone. Those things walking around in your parents bodies are incubating, like a caterpillar in a cocoon, and if it's been a month, they're ready to hatch. They possibly have already hatched, which means they'll be hungry, which means they're headed this way. You are food to them, now. I know that's a lot to process and you're so young, but you have to because we have no time to wait. We might have to fight. Do you see?"
It all suddenly made sense to Anna, the last month was the oddest of her life and she could see that those weren't her parents at all anymore. They were bad. They were terrible things that ate her parents and wanted to eat her! She was crying, but she nodded. "I want to fight them! I want them to pay for what they did!"
Sweetheart nodded, smiling, "Good girl! Everyone, look for something to fight with in this room, we are late to the party so we'll have to improvise. Baseball bats, scissors, knitting needles, use your imaginations, people. We don't have a lot of time and the odds are against us, but we can still prevail. We have a little girl to save!"
Pinchy yelled from the door, " Shit, they're coming! And they have molted!" His fuzzy crab legs shuffled across the length of the door, drawing tight a barely visible string in front of it. "Attack plan Theta!"
Poof the Bear and Sharpy the T-Rex echoed, "Attack plan Theta!"
Anna grabbed the hammer her Dad had left in her drawer when he built the desk. She stopped and turned toward Sweetheart. She crossed her arms and asked, "Why are you here, Sweetheart? You guys never spoke before."
Sweetheart pulled the drumstick off the xylophone, snapping it in half and wielding the remnants in both hands, "Lots of monsters in the world, kid. Someone's gotta fight 'em. Sorry we were late, it gets busier every year."
| "Come on." The little girl commanded. She grabbed her cousin by the hand and pulled him from the kitchen.
He shrugged at his sister and her husband as he was dragged out mid-sentence. They had been asking about his college classes and other general topics of no real consequence. "Where are we going, Rosie?"
The four year old looked at him as though he were the small child and she the adult. "Showing you my room."
"Ohhh, obviously." Jack grinned. "I haven't seen it yet. This visit." He continued smiling at her. He tried to speak to her as he would an adult as per her parent's wishes, but he always ended in just a slightly higher range of voice.
Rosella took the stairs one per leg. The last time he had been there, she'd gone up one stair at a time. "Hurry!"
Jack wasn't sure what the hurry was, likely Mr. Teddy had lost his glasses again. A typical problem for the ageing bear. "You're doing a really good job with those steps, you know that?"
"It's just walking, Jack." She said.
Wow, when did she become a teenager? He laughed a little, and she turned towards him, eyes narrowed. "I'm hurrying!" Jack said, and took an extra stair that step.
At the top of the stairs a hallway stretched off in both directions. Jack reached out and flipped the light switch. No response. He flipped it off and back on again.
"The light is burnt out, and you're not supposed to play with the light switch." Rosie crossed her arms looking at him, and then turned to continue down the hallway. There was still a little light coming through the windows as it wasn't too long past dinner yet. Jack figured she'd be fine not to trip if Steve hadn't replaced it yet.
"Come on!" Rosie repeated and darted down the dim hallway and into her room at the end.
Jack picked up the pace, but refused to run. He was an adult. Jack hesitated at the door. He always felt a little weird going into rooms alone with his niece. Not that he was a creep or anything, but he always just felt a bit uncomfortable. He'd heard too many stories of creepy uncles and just wanted to make sure everything always looked like it was completely on the up-and-up.
Jack peered into the dark room, looking for his niece. He heard a baby crying downstairs and the soft cooing voice of his sister, and the apparently comforting rumble of ex-army Steve. Jack flicked the light switch his now customary three flicks. Nothing. This room had only east-facing windows and was pretty dark.
"Start the tea party." Rosie commanded. She knew she was spoiled. So did he. It didn't change anything.
Jack thought her voice was coming from the closet. His eyes started to adjust to the light. Her Teddy Bear, the aforementioned Mr. Teddy sat in a semi-circle with Cat and Emily. Jack was impressed at his own ability to remember the names of her toys. There was a jug of punch drink and some cups arrayed before the toys and one where he was presumably supposed to sit.
Jack eyed the cups, pursing his lips. He wiped his down with the the inside of his shirt. It had looked fairly clean, but you can never be too sure. He poured a tiny amount of punch into the cup.
"Fill their glasses too, and make sure you keep talking to them so they don't get lonely!" Rosie's shrill voice came out from under the bed this time.
How had she gotten under there from the closet? How could she even see him in this light? He poured some equally tiny amounts into the toys's cups. "How are you doing, Mr. Teddy?" Jack said addressing the bear in as respectful a voice as he could manage. Rosie had been known to throw a fit if he wasn't treated like an adult because he was 'forty-sixty-three.' An impressive age, to be sure. After waiting out an appropriate pause for Mr. Teddy's response, Jack turned to the doll. "And Emily, you're looking quite well. Very healthy! I bet you've been eating all your vegetables and getting lots of exercise?" Never pass up on opportunity to be a good example to the little'uns. He smiled, pleased with his conniving.
"Quiet, they are listening." A hushed voice rasped out.
"Rosie?" Jack said his voice wavering.
"Drink your tea, and then I can come out." Rosie responded, her voice coming from behind the closed closet door again.
Jack shook his head. He must've imagined the voice. That's what two hours of sleep for two nights in a row, and energy drinks to make up for it would do to you. He picked the cup up and drained it. Jack grimaced, having forgotten that he wasn't going to drink out of a cup he found in a four year old's room.
"You really shouldn't have done that." The deep voice rasped again, phlegm seeming to rattle in the back of the throat of the speaker.
"Who's there?" Jack whispered back, but his tongue wasn't working very well. Was there someone in his niece's room? Jack drew his fists up in front of his face. Or he tried, but they just flopped over like dying fish on the dock. Had someone come in here to drug and kidnap Rosie? He struggled to get his arms in position, he'd never let them take her. He slid over onto his side, one eye pressed into the carpet closed. With his other eye he could just see the bear and the closet door.
"I'm so sorry." That deep voice rasped. It was coming from the bear! There must be some sort of a walkie-talkie in it! Then Mr. Teddy turned to look at him. "They're coming for you now. I'm so sorry." The bear repeated.
Jack would have freaked out at this talking stuffed animal, but he could barely move, he managed a strangled whisper, "Who?"
Despite anticipating the bear responding to him, he still jumped, or tried to when the bear answered, "Those who walk below. The beings inhabiting the form that appears to be Rosie." Jack thought he saw a single tear squeeze from the bear's eye at her name.
Jack couldn't even move enough to blink now. He was grateful that his eye pressed into the carpet was closed. He just wished his other eye was closed too. The closet door opened slowly, a slight creak as the door passed the halfway mark. A dark hand grasped the edge of the closet door, long bony talons emerging from the ends of the second digit of each finger and gouging slightly into the wood.
Jack lay there motionless, unable to even move his eyes.
"Good." Rosie's high-pitch voice called from behind the still opening door. "I had hoped that dosage would be enough. | |
[WP]You're having a tea party with your favorite stuffed animals when suddenly, Mr. Teddy whispers "quiet, they are listening" in a hushed, raspy voice. | Anna sat the animals all around the table, placed the dishes just so, and filled their cups with delicious dandelion butterscotch tea before sitting down herself. Poof the Bear, Sweetheart the Lamb, and Pinchy the Crab all readied themselves for the party, and even Sharpy the T-Rex seemed at attention for a change. She hummed and sang out loud, because a proper tea party needed music as much as it needed biscuits! "Now let's begin!" She clapped her hands and blew on the steaming cup of tea before her.
"Quiet," Poof the Bear whispered, "they are listening!"
Anna sat up, looking at the bear. "w..what?"
"You mustn't speak so loud! If they hear..." The bear shivered.
"YOU CAN TALK!" Anna yelled. All at once, the animals at the table were waving their claws and paws in the air, and Sharpy the T-Rex put his tiny hand over her mouth. "SHHHHHH" He said in a low grumble, "Good Lord, girl, do you not understand what 'be quiet' means? You're putting us all in danger!"
Pinchy the Crab ran to the door, peeking out, "Nothing yet. I think we're good."
"Keep listening! Are you sure?" Sharpy looked even more annoyed than normal.
Sweetheart the Lamb sat in front of Anna, taking her hand in his fuzzy hoof. He spoke, a low grizzled growl, like he had been swallowing rocks for years, "You listen here, little one. You gotta be quiet in here, from here on out, see? You understand?"
Anna started to cry, but Sweetheart waved her off, "We don't have time for that, darling. Answer some questions for me, but quietly, okay? Okay?"
She fought back the tears, "Okay, Sweetheart. I'll be quiet."
Sweetheart's voice was all gravel, but somehow softened a bit, "That's my girl. Now you make a great dandelion butterscotch tea, and you are a great friend, but I some info from you, and I need you to be honest, okay? Do you understand?"
"I do"
"Okay, so answer me this, Anna. When was the last time your parents hugged you?"
Anna was taken aback, "Hugged me? Umm, I don't know."
Sweetheart shook his head impatiently, "No, you know, just think hard. When was the last time? Was it last week? Was it two weeks ago?"
Anna honestly could not remember the last time either of her parents had hugged her. That was odd, she was always getting hugs, especially from her Dad. He hugged her at her last day of school, but that was a while ago. "A month, probably."
Pinchy leaned back from peering out the door, "A month? Sweetheart, if that's true -"
Sweetheart waved him off, "Okay, Anna. Thank you for answering. Another question? When was the last time you saw them eat anything?"
That she had noticed. She always, always ate dinner with Mom and Dad up until about a month ago, when her Mother told her she was big enough to get her food herself now, threw her a cookbook and that was that. She had learned how to cook eggs and pancakes and even french toast one time, but it was too messy, and the pantry was always stocked with cereal so she ate a lot of that, too. But she never saw them eat, ever, during that time. "About... About a month. What's going on? Are my parents okay?"
Sweetheart frowned, "No kid, no they're not okay. But you still are, and we mean to keep you that way. We need you to be brave now, okay?"
Poof leaned in close to Sweetheart, "If it's been a month already, they might be in the midst of changing already, we have got to get her the hell out of here before it's too late."
Sweetheart stood, "I'm aware."
Poof continued as if Sweetheart said nothing, "There's at least a decent chance they are on their way now, we have no weapons! They're going to be hungry and you know what they want to eat-"
Sweetheart cut him off then, again saying, "I'm aware! Dammit man, let me think a bit."
He turned back to Anna, "You gotta understand kid, they might have looked like your parents for the last month, but your parents are gone. Those things walking around in your parents bodies are incubating, like a caterpillar in a cocoon, and if it's been a month, they're ready to hatch. They possibly have already hatched, which means they'll be hungry, which means they're headed this way. You are food to them, now. I know that's a lot to process and you're so young, but you have to because we have no time to wait. We might have to fight. Do you see?"
It all suddenly made sense to Anna, the last month was the oddest of her life and she could see that those weren't her parents at all anymore. They were bad. They were terrible things that ate her parents and wanted to eat her! She was crying, but she nodded. "I want to fight them! I want them to pay for what they did!"
Sweetheart nodded, smiling, "Good girl! Everyone, look for something to fight with in this room, we are late to the party so we'll have to improvise. Baseball bats, scissors, knitting needles, use your imaginations, people. We don't have a lot of time and the odds are against us, but we can still prevail. We have a little girl to save!"
Pinchy yelled from the door, " Shit, they're coming! And they have molted!" His fuzzy crab legs shuffled across the length of the door, drawing tight a barely visible string in front of it. "Attack plan Theta!"
Poof the Bear and Sharpy the T-Rex echoed, "Attack plan Theta!"
Anna grabbed the hammer her Dad had left in her drawer when he built the desk. She stopped and turned toward Sweetheart. She crossed her arms and asked, "Why are you here, Sweetheart? You guys never spoke before."
Sweetheart pulled the drumstick off the xylophone, snapping it in half and wielding the remnants in both hands, "Lots of monsters in the world, kid. Someone's gotta fight 'em. Sorry we were late, it gets busier every year."
| "Don't ignore me, Sandra," comes the rhaspy voice inhabiting Mr. Teddy. Those pupil-less glossy black eyes felt fixated on me, but I didn't look up. I kept my eyes on the chipped china cup in my hands, tracing the rim with an equally chipped painted finger.
"...and whiskers on kittens," I half hummed, half whispered to myself. Mama taught me to sing when the voices came. Sing louder than they were until they got tired and went away for a while longer.
"Please, don't let them hurt us," pleaded Randy Rabbit. "Not again, Sandra."
"Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens..."
"Shhh, both of you. If he hears us it's game over. The end, friend." Mr. Teddy again.
The voices went away for good for little while, a few months when I got to see the Doctor. He gave me medicine that made things quieter, but also made me sick, and sleepy. I didn't like it much, was almost happy when Mama said she could afford the medicine anymore. Then Papa brought a new kind of medicine.
"Brown paper packages tied up with strings."
"I don't want to do this anymore!" The rabbit sobbed, despite having a mouth that was torn open days past, stuffing popping from the gash. "I want a real little girl to play with!"
"Quieter, fool! We will tall later. Right now--"
"THESE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVORITE THINGS!"
I screamed, clamping my hands over both ears.
"Cream colored ponies and warm apple strudels! Doorbells and sleighbells,"
Boots thumping up the stairs, tearing down the halway.
"Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings,"
"Sandra!" Roared Papa, practically ripping off the door hinges. "Now you've done it." whispered a contemptuous voice to my right.
"These are... these are... no!"
Papa dived at me, pinning me to the ground. I snarled and gnashed my teeth, trying to claw out at him.
"Damnit Sandra. You're in your thirties. Having tea parties. Screaning like that. You're never getting better. You're a... waste of time... I regret everything about you!"
His speech was interrupted by his panting. I could almost wear him down, but he was too string. Pinned to the ground by my neck, i felt the needle slide into my thigh.
"These are a... a few... of my... my..."
The world was slipping, no, hurtling into darkness. A familiar pit of missed time and silence I was never coherent enough to enjoy. But not fast enough to miss the boot slamming into my face, Papa venting his frustrations out on a defenseless target. I could swear I felt a rib crack. Maybe this time he'd had enough and I wouldn't wake up at all. That would be nice.
"When the dog bites, when the bee stings," sang Mr. Teddy, soon joined by a sorrowful rabbit. "When I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things..."
"And then I don't feel so bad." | |
Holy crap this blew up. Thanks Guys! | [WP] You are the barkeep of a very strange bar. It seems to attract monsters and gods, and is the unofficial neutral ground in most conflicts. Everyone likes you, and you are well protected. One day, some New Gods come in and try to fuck with you. | I like to feel that this WP was made for me. ^.^ I hope you all enjoy.
https://clubtalltailssite.wordpress.com/
***
Most mortals never notice them. Walking by on the sidewalk, or sitting across the room at a restaurant. Monsters, demons, aliens, gods; hidden amongst us. Keeping up with the ruse can be tiring though and most need a place to go to escape the tortures of mortal society.
“Welcome to Tall Tails.”
Those were the words that greeted them as they passed their coats, weapons and other to the coat check girl before stepping from the lobby to the main club. From the door you can see the expansive room, high vaulted ceilings with a modern gothic décor. The bar and tables near the front and beyond that the dance floor. The floor was busy with the bodies of dancers moving to a dull beat. Flashes of different colored skin, horns, tails and more could be seen.
The bar area itself was not nearly as full with only a scattering of customers adorning the seats. But its here, his back to the bar with a drink in hand, that James stood surveying the room. His watchful eyes keeping track of everyone there and making sure that all there were happy and cared for. Tall Tails was his club and it was here that the creatures of myth found a haven.
“What? Expected me to be ‘just’ a bartender,” James smiled largely.
Seriously? You shouldn’t break character like that, it throws the readers off.
A chuckle escaped from him and he shook his head, “Just keep track of the tense and perspective and I’m sure no one would notice.”
Fine, fine. Now where was I…Oh, yes…
The lobby door opened suddenly as a wave of energy pulsed from the figure that stepped through. Dark energy, full of ill intent, emanated from this smiling blonde haired man. He walked to the bar with a confidence in each step. Turning to the young succubus at the bar he leaned in and looked her in the eye still smiling.
“Where is the proprietor of this establishment? His new owner is here,” he spoke venom dripping from his words.
She looked shocked for a moment, but burst into a fit of laughter shortly after. She turned to James saying through tears brought on by laughter, “Hey, apparently the new boss is here.”
James stood up from his leaning position adjusting his long coat. Turning to face this stranger he smiled his most friendly of smiles. “I own this place. Name’s James. How can I help you?”
“Ah, good,” this man said turning. “I am X’on, new God of this world. I have traveled far and bring good tidings. I shall bring an era of prosperity to your world. All that is required is that you swear fealty to me and bow before your new ruler.”
James laughed and asked, “Is that all?” He leaned his head to one side making a small nod to one of his friends. “And what if I say no?”
X’on held up his palm, dark energy swirling into it forming into a ball. Electricity sparked from it and with a calm almost arrogant smirk, “Then I shall destroy you all.”
The smile on James’ face vanished. He nodded again and watched as his friend placed on of her hands onto X’on’s shoulder. The pink anthropomorphic T-Rex was the head bouncer for this club, and had lots of practice throwing unruly guests from it. The explosion took her by surprise as the God released energy of the sphere, throwing her across the room.
The music had stopped, with all the people watching. They took a step back, some drawing weapons or charging their own spells. James held a hand up stopping anyone from attacking. His own power flew through him, changing his form. His human ears vanished being replaced by a pair of cat ears onto of his head, a tail behind him, and his face taking on a more feline form. The customers took three steps back this time.
“You may want to cut to a different scene,” James spoke.
Uh…Okay…
Moments pass and from the front door came X’on flying in the air. Thrown out of the club he landed in a heap on the street. Bruises covered his formerly smiling face, and his clothes singed. James looked on dramatically wiping his hands clear of any dust. He turned to return to his club, his home, his family.
X’on emitted a faint groaning sound and asked, “How?”
Stopping short with a hand on the door, the catboy looked at the “God.”
“You messed with my family. Alone we all are legends and myth. But together? We’re Tall Tails.”
The door shut, leaving X’on alone in the night.
| *Some author's notes. I am* ***requesting feedback.*** *I took out four paragraphs explaining how this setting produces spirits out of concepts and magic and will and what a Catalyst is. I think it's better that the mechanics are left vague, and I spend less time expositing. Let me know if I made the right choice. I can post the excised paragraphs if you like.*
*I intentionally avoided the Big Names, Allah, Jehovah/Yahweh, Gaia, Buddha, etc, in an attempt to avoid mistakes or disagreements in portraying their values or intentions that might be offensive. I avoided politics because, well, duh.*
*I also avoided describing anybody's appearance here - as they represent concepts, I think that the reader's idea of what 'Internet personified' looks like is much more appropriate than what I think he or she would look like. In only a few cases do I describe habits and mannerisms, things that I think don't define a reader's ideas, but give them a starting point to build their impressions from.*
**Spirit's Spirits**
Today, Baldur was seated before me. Mead, of course, made in the old way. He was deep in his cups. "Another, barkeep."
"You can call me Jack, you know. And I think you've had enough. Remember, *'auþi betra, þykkir þat í ókunnun staþ, slíkt es válaþs vera.'* I know you've hit hard times, but keep hope. This isn't who you are, Baldur."
He glared at me, and put a finger on the bartop. "Don't quote Odin's words to me. He is sitting right over there, drinking like a fish."
"Baldur, Odin may be of two minds, but tomorrow you negotiate with Literature and Film for more feature in children's stories, remember? The big plan, invest in the stories of youth. You need to carry your mother wit tomorrow, not your draught of ale. You think they'll be making movies about Baldur in twenty years if you go to that table hung-over?"
Baldur glared at me, then relented. Forgiveness was in his nature, after all. "You win. I'll go home" He put a coin on the bar - a conceptual representation of strength, a contribution to my own power. It was what let me keep this bar safe from the crueler gods.
This time, though, I pushed it back across the counter. "I'll put it on your tab."
"You keep accounts paid in advance. You don't run up tabs on credit."
"You'll need everything you've got for negotiations tomorrow. It's a big day. So for this one night, for a spirit that I trust, I'll run a tab for you. Don't tell anybody." It would indeed be a big day. The old gods rarely had a resurgence. If Baldur made this work and felt even a little grateful to me, I'd probably be repaid a dozen times over. It's the way the old gods worked.
I started polishing the bar as I looked around. Bitcoin was constantly doing magic tricks with a golden coin, vanishing it and re-appearing it compulsively, while deep in conversation with the Stock Market. The Dalai Lama - one of the few men who became a spirit - was in conversation with GPS and Death - Big Grim himself, dangerous dealings. Artifice was about, handing out free phones and watches and glasses with holographic displays. It was a double-edged sword - Artifice spent his strength making things to hand out, but the devices fed him over time, strengthening the world's dependence on him.
Then IoT stopped by. I felt his power flowing, and a glass slid down the counter, a tap opening to fill it when it was in place. I took some of the power hoarded from gods much like this upstart, and exerted my will, forcing reality into shape, binding it against interference. The automatically poured drink was gone, the glass back on its shelf. "You don't impose your will here."
IoT leaned against the bar. "Buddy, I know you feel all nice and secure in all your catalytic thinking, but my star is rising and you don't want to piss me off. Give me a year and half of what you do here will be run by me."
The glass rattled again, and I doubled down on my bindings. I gritted my teeth against the pressure this spirit was exerting in my space. "You want neutral ground to negotiate when you become so common that everybody takes you for granted? When your worship turns to passive acceptance?" Behind IoT, Death stood, leaning that scythe upon his shoulder, and tipped his skull toward IoT - I shook my head, just a fractional motion, and Death sat, but continued to watch. His interest - everybody paid attention to Death, even the old gods - had polarized the whole room, and IoT was unknowingly the center of attention.
"I'm immune to that kind of thing. You think Internet will ever fall? No. Neither will I." I felt his will again - his star was rising, he was strong, but I was paid in the strength of spirits every day.
"Take a look over there at Telephony." Belle, as we called her, sat alone in a corner, faded. She was ubiquitous in the world, but people were not thoughtful of her as they once were, and Internet was stealing away even that small support. Artifice, fickle as he was, had abandoned her for VoIP. Rosie the Riveter sat with her, trying to comfort a spirit risen to strength in nearly the same era. The two had been friends through all their existence, both practical and forthright. But only Rosie had remained a powerful symbol, resurging with the feminist movement, and it was hard to comfort someone when you enjoyed the success they had lost.
"See her, Iot? One day that'll be you. People will stop being thankful that they can look inside their fridge from the grocery store, and begin being dissapointed that a device is so old-fasioned that it cannot. They will stop marveling at the technology that sustains you, and start taking it for granted. One day, you'll be bargaining with other concepts to influece the world to sustain you. Now look over there."
I pointed over at Death's table, where he spoke with GPS and Dalai Lama. "You're new, so I'll explain. The Dalai Lama 'finds' the next Dalai Lama that will succeed him. The Chinese want to erase Tibetan Buddhism, and have abducted the successor he indicated. They produced their own Dalai Lama, who will doubtless be a puppet they use to control or eliminate Tibetan Buddhism. He's bargaining with Death--"
I shivered, by blood running cold, as Grim looked up at the mention of his name, looking at me. IoT looked uneasy, too. "--Uh . . . yeah. To learn whether his successor is dead. He can bargain with that spirit because this is neutral ground. You may be strong now, but there will come a day when you depend on me and this bar. And you are going to invest in that relationship starting right now, by paying back every scrap of effort I just spent resisting you, if you ever want to be welcome here."
IoT stared at me, trying to fill the space with his grandeur - again, I resisted him, and he fumed . . . but finally he took his seat. A holographic window popped up - a transfer confirmation. Everything would be digital with a god in Internet's pantheon. "Fine. Your rules. Don't get cocky human. Catalyst or not, you are merely *in* the world, not *of* it. He swiped, and numbers on one side went down, numbers on the other side going up. Just as with Baldur's gold, it was a conceptual representation of the strength he transferred to me.
I smiled amicably, and both Catalysts and spirits looked away, growing bored as it become clear there wasn't going to be a serious confrontation. "I'm glad that we could come to an understanding." I grabbed the beer glass, and pouring one from the tap for him.
"It's not burdensome to be so limited by mechanical devices?"
IoT seemed a little disgusted by the tap's lever, but genuinely curious, so I answered him genuinely. "Sometimes feeling the lever shift is more 'real' than just having things jump into action. I don't think you'll understand, but I can trust this tap more than I can trust some device programmed by a stranger whose software might change at any time." As I spoke, I poured a second beer, lifting it toward him.
IoT lifted his glass, and shrugged, clinking it to mine. "You're right. I don't understand."
We drank, and we talked. I told him what to be careful of. I told him what spirits could be trusted, when encountered 'in the wild'. I told him what could lead to a god's downfall, and how some sustained themselves, when they might otherwise have fallen into decline. I told him of how gods became devoured, as Social Media devoured Facebook and Twitter and dozens of others.
He was green and he was arrogant, but once he realized I knew the troubles a spirit faced, he was eager to learn. Despite his first impression, I thought he might be a good friend. |
Holy crap this blew up. Thanks Guys! | [WP] You are the barkeep of a very strange bar. It seems to attract monsters and gods, and is the unofficial neutral ground in most conflicts. Everyone likes you, and you are well protected. One day, some New Gods come in and try to fuck with you. | I like to feel that this WP was made for me. ^.^ I hope you all enjoy.
https://clubtalltailssite.wordpress.com/
***
Most mortals never notice them. Walking by on the sidewalk, or sitting across the room at a restaurant. Monsters, demons, aliens, gods; hidden amongst us. Keeping up with the ruse can be tiring though and most need a place to go to escape the tortures of mortal society.
“Welcome to Tall Tails.”
Those were the words that greeted them as they passed their coats, weapons and other to the coat check girl before stepping from the lobby to the main club. From the door you can see the expansive room, high vaulted ceilings with a modern gothic décor. The bar and tables near the front and beyond that the dance floor. The floor was busy with the bodies of dancers moving to a dull beat. Flashes of different colored skin, horns, tails and more could be seen.
The bar area itself was not nearly as full with only a scattering of customers adorning the seats. But its here, his back to the bar with a drink in hand, that James stood surveying the room. His watchful eyes keeping track of everyone there and making sure that all there were happy and cared for. Tall Tails was his club and it was here that the creatures of myth found a haven.
“What? Expected me to be ‘just’ a bartender,” James smiled largely.
Seriously? You shouldn’t break character like that, it throws the readers off.
A chuckle escaped from him and he shook his head, “Just keep track of the tense and perspective and I’m sure no one would notice.”
Fine, fine. Now where was I…Oh, yes…
The lobby door opened suddenly as a wave of energy pulsed from the figure that stepped through. Dark energy, full of ill intent, emanated from this smiling blonde haired man. He walked to the bar with a confidence in each step. Turning to the young succubus at the bar he leaned in and looked her in the eye still smiling.
“Where is the proprietor of this establishment? His new owner is here,” he spoke venom dripping from his words.
She looked shocked for a moment, but burst into a fit of laughter shortly after. She turned to James saying through tears brought on by laughter, “Hey, apparently the new boss is here.”
James stood up from his leaning position adjusting his long coat. Turning to face this stranger he smiled his most friendly of smiles. “I own this place. Name’s James. How can I help you?”
“Ah, good,” this man said turning. “I am X’on, new God of this world. I have traveled far and bring good tidings. I shall bring an era of prosperity to your world. All that is required is that you swear fealty to me and bow before your new ruler.”
James laughed and asked, “Is that all?” He leaned his head to one side making a small nod to one of his friends. “And what if I say no?”
X’on held up his palm, dark energy swirling into it forming into a ball. Electricity sparked from it and with a calm almost arrogant smirk, “Then I shall destroy you all.”
The smile on James’ face vanished. He nodded again and watched as his friend placed on of her hands onto X’on’s shoulder. The pink anthropomorphic T-Rex was the head bouncer for this club, and had lots of practice throwing unruly guests from it. The explosion took her by surprise as the God released energy of the sphere, throwing her across the room.
The music had stopped, with all the people watching. They took a step back, some drawing weapons or charging their own spells. James held a hand up stopping anyone from attacking. His own power flew through him, changing his form. His human ears vanished being replaced by a pair of cat ears onto of his head, a tail behind him, and his face taking on a more feline form. The customers took three steps back this time.
“You may want to cut to a different scene,” James spoke.
Uh…Okay…
Moments pass and from the front door came X’on flying in the air. Thrown out of the club he landed in a heap on the street. Bruises covered his formerly smiling face, and his clothes singed. James looked on dramatically wiping his hands clear of any dust. He turned to return to his club, his home, his family.
X’on emitted a faint groaning sound and asked, “How?”
Stopping short with a hand on the door, the catboy looked at the “God.”
“You messed with my family. Alone we all are legends and myth. But together? We’re Tall Tails.”
The door shut, leaving X’on alone in the night.
| Okay, first time **ever** I write something in English. Please be kind.
 
*La Baguette* was an inconspicuous teahouse hidden in one of the many
back streets of Paris. The windows always displayed a mundane
assortment of pastries, and a few worn tables. La Baguette had a
strange particularity: although everybody was able to see it, nobody
really cared. Like a hobo sleeping in the corner of a dirty alley, it was practically invisible.
*La Baguette* was owned by a young man named Angelo. He had bought the
store from his grandfather, that had himself inherited from his
grandfather, and so on for centuries. Angelo had celebrated his
thirtieth birthday a few weeks ago, and was already one of the most
known individuals of what humans usually called the Otherworld. *La
Baguette* was in fact built on a Nexus, where a few Leylines met,
creating a natural portal to other worlds. The small teahouse was
peculiar because it was the only privately owned Nexus, making it an
ideal neutral grounds for what anybody would call "monsters".
In the back room, the customers stood out in the middle of the
traditional french decoration. On a finely decorated oak table
ornamented with flowered napkins, an angel, a leprechaun, two harpy
sisters and a kappa were playing poker, while drinking berries tea.
The latter was ostensibly winning, which was enraging the leprechaun,
to the delight of the harpies. The angel, as regular named Uriel, was
only slightly bored, as usual.
On a small table, an oldblood vampire and a werewolf were debating,
unable to decide between ordering a "pain au chocolat" or a
"chocolatine". In a corner, a newblood vampire was eyeing them
fiercely, his hate for the werewolves only topped by his admiration
for his sun-fearing superior.
Behind the counter, Angelo was carefully making a new batch of tea,
manipulating with ease the centuries old teapot. The kid, as the
regulars called him, was thin as a twig (or as a bike-door, as he said
himself), with long strands of red hair. And, despite the fact that he
spoke with demons daily (except Thursdays, because of an eons-old
tradition), he looked as innocent as a newborn baby.
A tiny bell rang, signaling that a customer had entered the teahouse,
and soon, Angelo heard the familiar sound of a chair being pulled up.
Suddenly, though, he didn't hear anything anymore. Moments of silence
were rare in *La Baguette*, and usually worrying. There weren't a lot
of things able to silence literal gods, and most of them weren't able
to even enter *La Baguette*. Not because of magic protections, but
because the doors were usually too smalls for ridiculously large
creatures like the Balrog or Cthulhu. That didn't prevent the latter
from sending servants every Friday for some raspberry tarts and a
Paris-Brest.
The new customer, though, was a tiny old lady wearing only gray, and a
pair of spectacles thicker than a dwarf's ego. She was silently
studying the menu, oblivious to the other customers that were staring
at her, dumbfounded. She had apparently crossed the magically
protected Parisian door, thwarting all the magical protections,
without even setting any alarm.
Cautious, Angelo put down his teapot and, his notepad in hand,
approached the lady. It took him four increasingly loud "Hello" before
she even noticed him. Then, ransacking into her messy handbag, she
silently produced a worn coupon for a free pastry, with the logo of a
chain bakery.
There had been a tradition at *La Baguette*, a rule older than most:
no price changes, no special deals, no freebies. Ever. Such was the
price of neutrality. You wouldn't want a 3 tons troll complaining
because his archenemy saved 10 cents on his croissant, believe me.
Politely, Angelo put down the coupon on the table, telling the lady
that she must be mistaken. Instantly, the granny turned to face him, a
violent thunderstorm in her eyes.
- Do you think I'm stupid, young man? Or are you trying to scam me?! I
learned how to read before your dirty feet trod on this earth, and I'm
not going to get ripped. I want that pastry, RIGHT NOW.
Her voice had been piercing. Even the two harpy sisters were surprised
by the old hag's vociferation. Angelo, though, was standing his
ground. Ever so gentle, he started to say that she must be mistaken.
He wasn't even able to finish a sentence before her unholy wrath
started to gush once again. From the corner of his eyes, Angelo could
see the other customers starting to laugh quietly.
The lady was looking at him fiercely. Angelo dealt with demons and
cosmic horrors daily, but he was now dancing uncomfortably from one
foot to the other, hesitant.
- Well?!
That last word was enough. One word. One word shattered the
centuries-old policy. A minute later, the lady had her pastry, and the
coupon was sitting in the bottom of a bin. The next minutes, Angelo
watched the hag savoring her free cake, with the added taste of
victory. Angelo surprised himself wishing he has spat on it before
serving it.
Ignoring the other patrons, the lady licked her fingers, took back her
purse, and left without a word. The silence lingered for a few
heartbeats until, from a darkened corner, came the question Angelo
dreaded:
- Can I have a freebie too?
Simone, satiated, was walking slowly out of the back street. In a few
minutes, she'd be back home, with her horrendous dog and her annoying
TV shows for sole company. Behind her, in *La Baguette*, the
shattering of the oldest of all rules was creating to a revolt. A
revolt that would give birth to wars spanning dozen of worlds and, in
the end, the end of all life.
The War of the Pastry. |
Holy crap this blew up. Thanks Guys! | [WP] You are the barkeep of a very strange bar. It seems to attract monsters and gods, and is the unofficial neutral ground in most conflicts. Everyone likes you, and you are well protected. One day, some New Gods come in and try to fuck with you. | You're lucky I'm even telling you this story.
Technically I could get into trouble for letting other Mortals know what I do.
Ya see, I'm a mortal that is a bartender and a cook for the Gods. It has it's ups and downs, but I have regulars that are amazing, and the pay is decent. Puts food on my table, keeps my bills paid.
I'm usually viewed as the cute niece, little sister, or girl-next-door to these patrons of mine. After all, I'm only human.
One night, as I had just finished pushing a large mug of beer over the counter towards Sekhmet. The door swung open and a new face walked in.
Most of the Gods and Goddesses that came here I knew, and if I didn't know them, I usually learned of them through the stories and chatting with their fellows. However, this God was one of which I had never seen or heard of before. He stood tall and proud. Classic sculpted body, broad shoulders, strong chin. I couldn't place him to which area he originated from. All the "retired" Gods usually hung out here. He had to have been new, a newly formed religion and God. He gave a small smile in my direction as I approached him from behind the bar counter. "Good evening." I smiled. "What can I get you this evening? Need a Menu?" I asked and he nodded. Bringing the menu to him he adjusted himself and perused it. "It's interesting..." he remarked. The rich dulcet timbre of his voice was like honey to my mortal ears. "How I can find a dove in such a hovel."
That made a couple heads turn, including Sekhmet's. The lionheaded Goddess regarded him silently, sizing him up. Ma'at lifted a hand, touching Sekhmet's shoulder. I admired Ma'at. She was the pillar of justice for Egypt in her day, and even now she still was able to reign in her other Gods with a look. "I wouldn't call this place a 'hovel'. More a hidey hole in the wall." I said good naturedly. He gave a throaty chuckle. "Let's try some Red Wine." he said as he shut the menu and I nodded. "Good choice. What manner of Red would you like? Sweet or Dry?" I asked.
"Dry." With that, I went down to the cellar and pulled a bottle of dry red that I figured would suit my guest the best. I had a great knack for selecting booze for patrons. Would you believe me if I told you I surprised Odin by offering him Plum Sake once? He liked it and drank it for the night- sometimes if he's in the mood he'll order it again.
After I uncorked the bottle and let it breathe, I grabbed a wide fat wine goblet for Reds and I pour a couple sips and offer it to the 'Nameless God' as I inwardly now nicknamed him. He sipped from it, then laughed a bit. "It's very good, yes. I'll finish it." Beaming proudly, I pour him a full glass and keep the bottle off to the side on light ice to keep it cooled without making it too cold. (common misconception with Red wine, Room temp is nice, but the best I've found is when the Red wine has been cooled around 60 degrees.)
"So, you spend your time here serving forgotten Gods to fallen, inferior religions hm?" he asked. I tensed a bit. That's what I like to call a 'Red Topic.' This was a double edged sword for me. Picking a side could still make for conflict when this place is supposed to be a completely neutral zone. Everyone's equal here. Including me, a human.
"I wouldn't say that." I said after a moment. "Everyone's got some great stories. If you're interested, you can learn about other's lifestyles, compare how yours is similar or different to theirs. A lot of religions borrow or cross customs over when some people convert from one religion to another. So you might have similarities to another God or Goddess here you'd of never expected." I said wisely- which was true.
"Just take a few moments, enjoy the difference in scenery, yeah?" I suggested. "I'll be back around." I said reassuringly.
Leaving the new God to his devices, I "walked my beat" as I sometimes put it. Going through and replenishing everyone's food and drinks. Nobody starves or goes thirsty in my house.
Passing Forseti who was vociferously boasting about his triumphs. I blushed a little as his father; Baldur, smiled at me. He was always friendly. Looked like he was visiting here instead of staying in his own hall; Breidablik. Passing Loki, I refilled his drink and the two of us shared a private smile. (Don't let him fool you. He can be absolutely hilarious when you get past his abrasive nature. I managed to get him so drunk one night I got him to devolve into gigglefits over petty childish bar-pranks, after that he had a soft spot for me since.)
Quetzalcoatl was listening to Forseti intently from the next table over, his feather adorned head tilted to one side. Rich gold serpentine eyes inquisitive and enraptured by the tale. I caught glances from Mithra, Shamash, and a few others were around. But still were listening. I loved it when Gods would listen to one another's stories. Everyone was different, but also so very alike.
As I was heading back towards the bar to get behind it- A hand gently but firmly grabbed my wrist and slowly drew me back. It lacked the warmth other Gods might have. I looked over to see the New God grinning at me. His unearthly eyes gleaming. "I like you, little dove." he murmured and I just offered a smile back, carefully rotating my wrist to break his grip. "Thanks, I like ya too as a good patron already." I said cheerfully.
As a general rule, I don't normally get too flirtatious with the Gods. I'm here to work, and again; they're **GODS.** I prefer to take on the cute neice role as opposed to an object of their lust. Those stories about Zeus? Well... I'm not going to badmouth one of my best Patrons. But I will say some stories exist for a reason. Not all Gods are of Justice, Order, and Purity.
I did almost take a night with Eros. I luckily reeled myself in and politely declined, but thanked him deeply for the flattering offer. I think he respected me much more for it, considering I'm only human.
That stare this New God gave me made the hair on the back of my neck raise. That stare wasn't a good one, and it made me want to get behind that bar and stay there. "Why don't you become my consort?" he asked and I stared at him. "Become a cute little Mini-Goddess yourself?" he asked, his hand moving, fingers brushing up my arm in a way that made a visible shudder crawl down my spine. He seemed to take it as an invite since he then gave a tug at my arm and pulled me in close so I sat on his knee like a child would her father's lap. His arms circling me from behind. "The Goddess of Wine pouring and merriment?" He asked in my ear and I squirmed hard. *"How delightful..."*
His tone had changed, becoming something dark, overly sweet, and smooth. Like poisoned syrup. I could feel his will trying to coerce mine into cooperation and accepting such a tempting offer. "No thanks. Let me up please." I grumbled.
A mortal can become a God or Goddess. All they need is people who give worship, follow them, and give tribute be it money, food, or some manner of sacrifice. I had learned this from Imhotep. Hercules had done it too. A good handful of mortals had become Gods through such means. What this Nameless God offered me now? He was trying to manipulate me. It might have worked on someone inexperienced, but I knew better.
I could feel many pairs of eyes on me, watching. Bastet sat near Ma'at and Sekhmet. The Egyptian Goddess of pleasure bristled. She might be a patron of pleasure. But she was protective. I caught Eros in a corner, slowly shaking his head. Thor had his thumb running along the rough battered edge of his hammer as his eyes narrowed at us. My cheeks flushed, I felt humiliated. I wanted to sink into the floor and vanish.
"I highly doubt you have means to accomplish that." I said flatly, his hands were roaming over my body. "I could make it work, my little dove. Hush now..." He hummed in my ear and in that moment my temper flared. I shoved his hands off of me and scrambled off of his lap. Without thinking my hand drew back and I slapped him. Right across the face.
The sound rang out making everyone stop dead and stare while I stood there seething. "You need to leave. **Now.**" I hissed. Slowly, the Nameless God stood up and stared down at me, he stood much taller than I. "And if I refuse?" he asked. Before the situation could escalate a hand placed on his shoulder. "You heard her, you've overstayed your welcome..." Came a gentle tone, it was Ahura Mazda. He had seen enough. I respected him, like Zeus or Odin, Ahura Mazda reigned over his own Pantheon, even though Zoroastrianism was a religion no longer followed. The Nameless God shoved Ahura's hand off of him and sneered. "This place is a cesspool anyhow." Glaring at me he then turned and began to march for the door without paying for the wine- whatever, let him go. I'd pay for it just to get him out of the bar.
As he reached for the door handle to leave. He convulsed, then started to crumple to the floor, only to dissipate like dust scattering to the wind. I stared in horror as raucous laughter broke out across the bar. "What the hell?!" I asked, looking to Ahura Mazda who now flanked my side. He was smiling bemusedly as one of the Norse Gods called out drinks were on them tonight, which made cheers ring out in various languages.
"He lost too many followers. He wasn't fully established as a religion yet. Losing just one follower can make, or break you as a God before your religion's established like mine.Or any other ancient ones here." he explained patiently. "He must have JUST had enough followers to pay worship to manifest and become one of us. He got cocky because of it. Such a belief that treats their women like he did you is probably one of which the World doesn't need." he shrugged. "I believe the others will need drinks with the announcement I just heard." he winked and I smiled to him.
"Alright. What can I get you?"
| Okay, first time **ever** I write something in English. Please be kind.
 
*La Baguette* was an inconspicuous teahouse hidden in one of the many
back streets of Paris. The windows always displayed a mundane
assortment of pastries, and a few worn tables. La Baguette had a
strange particularity: although everybody was able to see it, nobody
really cared. Like a hobo sleeping in the corner of a dirty alley, it was practically invisible.
*La Baguette* was owned by a young man named Angelo. He had bought the
store from his grandfather, that had himself inherited from his
grandfather, and so on for centuries. Angelo had celebrated his
thirtieth birthday a few weeks ago, and was already one of the most
known individuals of what humans usually called the Otherworld. *La
Baguette* was in fact built on a Nexus, where a few Leylines met,
creating a natural portal to other worlds. The small teahouse was
peculiar because it was the only privately owned Nexus, making it an
ideal neutral grounds for what anybody would call "monsters".
In the back room, the customers stood out in the middle of the
traditional french decoration. On a finely decorated oak table
ornamented with flowered napkins, an angel, a leprechaun, two harpy
sisters and a kappa were playing poker, while drinking berries tea.
The latter was ostensibly winning, which was enraging the leprechaun,
to the delight of the harpies. The angel, as regular named Uriel, was
only slightly bored, as usual.
On a small table, an oldblood vampire and a werewolf were debating,
unable to decide between ordering a "pain au chocolat" or a
"chocolatine". In a corner, a newblood vampire was eyeing them
fiercely, his hate for the werewolves only topped by his admiration
for his sun-fearing superior.
Behind the counter, Angelo was carefully making a new batch of tea,
manipulating with ease the centuries old teapot. The kid, as the
regulars called him, was thin as a twig (or as a bike-door, as he said
himself), with long strands of red hair. And, despite the fact that he
spoke with demons daily (except Thursdays, because of an eons-old
tradition), he looked as innocent as a newborn baby.
A tiny bell rang, signaling that a customer had entered the teahouse,
and soon, Angelo heard the familiar sound of a chair being pulled up.
Suddenly, though, he didn't hear anything anymore. Moments of silence
were rare in *La Baguette*, and usually worrying. There weren't a lot
of things able to silence literal gods, and most of them weren't able
to even enter *La Baguette*. Not because of magic protections, but
because the doors were usually too smalls for ridiculously large
creatures like the Balrog or Cthulhu. That didn't prevent the latter
from sending servants every Friday for some raspberry tarts and a
Paris-Brest.
The new customer, though, was a tiny old lady wearing only gray, and a
pair of spectacles thicker than a dwarf's ego. She was silently
studying the menu, oblivious to the other customers that were staring
at her, dumbfounded. She had apparently crossed the magically
protected Parisian door, thwarting all the magical protections,
without even setting any alarm.
Cautious, Angelo put down his teapot and, his notepad in hand,
approached the lady. It took him four increasingly loud "Hello" before
she even noticed him. Then, ransacking into her messy handbag, she
silently produced a worn coupon for a free pastry, with the logo of a
chain bakery.
There had been a tradition at *La Baguette*, a rule older than most:
no price changes, no special deals, no freebies. Ever. Such was the
price of neutrality. You wouldn't want a 3 tons troll complaining
because his archenemy saved 10 cents on his croissant, believe me.
Politely, Angelo put down the coupon on the table, telling the lady
that she must be mistaken. Instantly, the granny turned to face him, a
violent thunderstorm in her eyes.
- Do you think I'm stupid, young man? Or are you trying to scam me?! I
learned how to read before your dirty feet trod on this earth, and I'm
not going to get ripped. I want that pastry, RIGHT NOW.
Her voice had been piercing. Even the two harpy sisters were surprised
by the old hag's vociferation. Angelo, though, was standing his
ground. Ever so gentle, he started to say that she must be mistaken.
He wasn't even able to finish a sentence before her unholy wrath
started to gush once again. From the corner of his eyes, Angelo could
see the other customers starting to laugh quietly.
The lady was looking at him fiercely. Angelo dealt with demons and
cosmic horrors daily, but he was now dancing uncomfortably from one
foot to the other, hesitant.
- Well?!
That last word was enough. One word. One word shattered the
centuries-old policy. A minute later, the lady had her pastry, and the
coupon was sitting in the bottom of a bin. The next minutes, Angelo
watched the hag savoring her free cake, with the added taste of
victory. Angelo surprised himself wishing he has spat on it before
serving it.
Ignoring the other patrons, the lady licked her fingers, took back her
purse, and left without a word. The silence lingered for a few
heartbeats until, from a darkened corner, came the question Angelo
dreaded:
- Can I have a freebie too?
Simone, satiated, was walking slowly out of the back street. In a few
minutes, she'd be back home, with her horrendous dog and her annoying
TV shows for sole company. Behind her, in *La Baguette*, the
shattering of the oldest of all rules was creating to a revolt. A
revolt that would give birth to wars spanning dozen of worlds and, in
the end, the end of all life.
The War of the Pastry. |
Holy crap this blew up. Thanks Guys! | [WP] You are the barkeep of a very strange bar. It seems to attract monsters and gods, and is the unofficial neutral ground in most conflicts. Everyone likes you, and you are well protected. One day, some New Gods come in and try to fuck with you. | I peered through the haze of cigarette smoke from behind the counter as I polished the tiny crystal glass in hand, looking through the window of the bar where I could see out into the Aether beyond. The flash had caught all of our attention, arousing curiosity for a brief moment as we tried to deduce which of the gods had arrived. Yet when the thundering boom had caught up with it, our suspicions were all but confirmed. The god of thunder had arrived, and I knew then immediately that our night would be filled with songs from Valhalla. I grinned for a moment, then returned my attention to the task at hand.
Anubis, who had been at the counter for hours, looked up from his pint and turned his attention towards the door. As it opened, the Odinson was met with a hearty welcome. “Aye, if it isn’t my favorite knockoff,” yelled Zeus from the booth closest to the entrance. Thor smiled at the statement, removing his helmet and allowing his long golden locks to fall free.
“Ye have known always what to say to conjure a smile, good Zeus. Aye, but my father asked me to inform you that you’re a foul-smelling ogre with a beard fit only to cover his balls.”
“Hah, coming from the piss-stained lord of the Vikings!” The two gods shared a joyous laughter, and I glanced up just then to see Thor looking in my direction.
“Jesus, two bottles of spiced mead for the king and me.” He pulled two icy crystals from the pouch at his waist, then tossing them gently in my direction. As I caught them between my fingers, I heard him say, “Straight from the land of Jotunheim itself. Enjoy, my good man.”
I smiled, glad that he’d remembered and honored my request. The god of thunder knew I had a love for crystals. The bar itself was decorated with several different kinds, and they always made for pleasant conversation whenever someone new found their way to my door. I took two empty bottles out from under the counter, filling them with tap water before working the old magic. A flick of the wrist was all it took to turn it into mead fit for Dionysus himself. As the thought crossed my mind I realized that he was also present, chatting away with Huitzilopochtli in the far corner of the room.
I tossed the two bottles towards Thor, whom caught them handily before giving his thanks, and then resumed my work on that little crystal glass. For some reason the smudge that blemished its surface refused to relent, and for a brief moment I was almost irate. Despite it though I was as happy as I’d ever been. Business was booming, and word was quickly getting around. I heard a thump at the counter as someone else fell into the barstool in front of me. I looked up to see Medusa with her head in her hands, eyes closed and mouth turned a frown. Past experience told me she was having a bad day, but I knew just how to cure her of it.
“Well hey there beautiful,” I said with a smile, hoping to lighten the mood. “I was hoping you’d show up.” For a moment she didn’t look up at me, trying to remain stone-faced and cold. Then I saw that familiar smirk of hers, and she couldn’t help but respond afterwards.
“Oh stop it you charmer,” she said, attempting to look coy. “You don’t have to lie to me you know.”
“Who’s lying?” I asked, trying to sound cool. Her grin widened, and she looked away blushing. Sure, the snakes slithering around on top of her head were a bit distracting, but she was still cute in the face. Besides, she was the kind of girl who appreciated the boost in confidence. She wasn’t known for bringing very many men home. And those she did, well… let’s just say she brought a whole new meaning to the phrase “getting stoned.” The door to the bar suddenly opened once more, this time to reveal a group of gods or monsters I didn’t recognize.
Activity in the building ceased in moments, attention now directed towards these strange new individuals. Death and Dracula stopped their game of billiards and starred dead at the new arrivals. Medusa glanced back to see what the lack of fuss was about, then looked back at me with an inquisitive expression. I shifted my gaze around the room to gauge the reactions of all those present, uncertain how to react myself. Zeus and Thor both eyed them carefully, not showing any signs of aggression, but rather the same curiosity that no doubt showed on my face.
After a few brief moments I noticed Spag-Hetti trembling where he was, looking down and away from the folks that had entered just a few seats down from where Medusa was sitting. The relatively new god looked incredibly nervous, especially when he caught me looking at him. He downed his ale quickly when he realized the new folks were approaching from behind, and for a second I thought he might run.
“Ah… lookie’ere fellas,” the leader of the group said, staring straight at the frightened mass of noodles. Spag-Hetti seemed to quiver in his seat. “If it ‘aint the Flying Spaghetti Monster himself. I was wondering when we’d see you again. It seems you went and found another tavern to stink up… not that it needed any help from the looks of things. Now who’s this ‘ere?” He turned towards me with an amused smirk, then leaning over the counter. I continued to work the rag against the same glass I had been polishing since Thor arrived, but I met the stranger’s gaze with a welcoming smile despite this.
“Hey there fellas,” I said cheerfully as I looked the three of them up and down. The first among them was a large, pot-bellied pig god with heavily wrinkled skin and jewel-encrusted garments. The second was some bird-headed humanoid wearing robes and carrying a staff, who stood close behind his leader with a snide smile on his face. The third was a woman—some sort of cat deity from an obscure religion I only barely recognized, who seemed to glance around the bar distastefully with her nose in the air.
“You’re that Jesus fella I’m always hearing about ‘aintcha? The one that turns water into wine.” The fat god snorted. “I’eard you were opening a tavern out in the Aether. Thought I might stop in to see what the fuss was all about. Didn’t expect it to be such a shithole.”
I chuckled at his remark, though I was a slightly hurt. “A shithole eh? I don’t think it’s all that bad. People seem to like it here enough.” I kept a smile even while he started laughing. His cabal seemed to laugh in unison with him.
“And of course a little weakling like you would say ‘at. S’no wonder our little noodle friend’ere came running to join the club.” He put his arm around Spag-Hetti. “Now why’d you’ave to go running? Breaking me little heart like that. And all I wanted was just one little taste of that glorious noodle you like to boast about. Tell me now, what were you supposed to be god of again?”
At this point Spag-Hetti was terrified, and I was fast becoming offended. To be honest though, I’ve never been all that assertive when it came to situations like this, and it showed when I tried to intervene. I put my hands on the swine-god’s shoulder, trying to pull him away. “Hey now,” I said, trying to be as friendly as possible. “There’s no need for all this. Here, have a drink on the hou…” I was interrupted by his very sudden grip on my shoulder and forearm, then finding myself pinned to the counter. Now I was irritated.
“You dare touch me, you filthy cur? And what right does the mighty Nazarene have, eh? Going to flip the table over and whip me, goody boy? You ‘ave any other powers than coming back from the dead you little shit?” I struggled to break free for a few moments, but even so I tried to remain poised. “There’s no need for any of this. Just let me go and we can all have a dri…” Once more I was interrupted, only this time it was to be freed. I looked up in time to see Mjolnir boomerang back to its owner. The pig god had fallen to the ground, nose broken at the end of Thor’s hammer.
“Try that one with an Asgardian, you motherless pig,” he said to him tauntingly. The swine god bounced to his feet in a rage and charged the thunder god with ferocity. The bird-god came up close behind him, but Zeus sent him flying backwards with a bolt of lightning into the jukebox. The cat-goddess made a break for them both, but was pulled back by her hair by a very angry Medus, who threw a mean sucker punch once the woman had turned around.
Thor knocked the pig god back with a heavy-handed blow, sending him flying into Lugh’s table, who stood up angrily in protest. “Oi you little shite, you spilled me whiskey!” The Irish warrior stood up and grabbed him by the neck, yanking an empty beer bottle up off the table and smashing it over his head before Anubis came up behind him and grabbed him by his arms. Lugh then proceeded to pummel him furiously and then smacked him to the ground when he was tired.
The bird-god had since returned to his feet and started trading blows with Huitzilopochtli, who wasn’t content to stay out of the fight. The feathered deity found himself clearly outmatched as soon as the war-god’s fist struck his face, and he hit the ground with a loud thud almost as soon as the blow connected. The cat-goddess was all that was left, but Medusa had already done a number on her. Looking around the room she realized suddenly that there was no way to win should she continue the fight. Grabbing her two knocked-out compatriots by their collars, she flew out of the bar with an incredible speed, leaving the mess they were responsible for far behind them.
(1/2) | Disclaimer: my knowlage about the dietys is not too abundant and I will distort them to serve the story.
"No, Odin, I am not doing your quiz again." I said. "Dad has just ordered stuff and besides, how can I hope to defeat a god of knowlage in a quiz?" The norse gods were new to the bar, so I had just taken this the first time.
I went over to the fridge and got some wine.
"Oh come on." Odin yelled behind me. "You are the most knowlegable mortal I have ever met."
"How surprising is that?" I asked while I went by. "I mean, I am serving so many gods of knowlage I don't even know how many. There is Tir(Armenian), there Serapis (Egypt) and A'as(Hittite AKA bronce age Anatolia) is over there, not to mention all the others."
"Fair point." He said as I made my way over to where Dad sat with Hera(Greek) and my halfbrother Ares. Or, well, Ares had seemingly passed out.
"Hey, here is your wine." I said, overhearing Dad say something about how disappointing the unreliable resistance to alcohol shown on Ares part was.
"Thanks." Hera said. She was wierdly kind to me, unlike all the other mortal kids of Zeus.
I was passing by the Norse gods throwing stuff at Baldur as I saw a new face in the crowd, if one could describe it as a face. It was a hovering bunch of spaghetti with meatballs in between and wobbly eyes.
"Hey, who jas ordered spaghetti?" Loki shouted across the room while Magni(Norse) was ordering some more barrels of beer for him and the other norse gods. They had already had about one each, so it was a normal day.
The new guy came over to the counter. "Hey, can I get you something?" I asked after having brought out the huge barrels.
"Spaghetti would be cool." He said.
"Are you kidding me?" I asked.
"No." He replied.
"Wait a second." I turned and looked in the crowd for a food god, we didn't actually serve Spaghetti, but I hoped one of them could help out. I found one between the aztecs. "Tonacatecuhtli!" I shouted.
He came over. "Hey, what is it, Jeff?"
"I wondered if you could help me for a few seconds."
"Of course."
"Well, the new guy just ordered spaghetti, and we don't usually serve that."
"Give me a plate." He responded.
"Anything with the spaghetti?" I asked.
"Bolognese sauce." The spaghetti monster replied.
"OK."
Tonacatecuhtli had it done in no time.
"Thanks man." I said and got it over to the spaghetti monster, which quickly incorporated it into its body, while I was off getting more beer for the norse gods out of the cellar. I would have to restock the next day.
When I came back, the spaghetti guy was talking to Loki. Lofn and Sjöfn took the barrels and put them on the table the norse gods used.
"So, what have you been up to lately." Lofn asked me when she returned to the bar.
"Not much, this takes up almost all my time."
"Oh, thats such a shame, there is so much more to see than this bar, have you ever been outside of Midgard?" She asked.
"No, though I do wonder how thick the walls of Asgard are, this bar would be broken by Thor and the gang if it wasn't for Ptah(egypt), who made this place basicly unbreakable." I told her.
"I could take you there and show you around." Dhe said.
"Well, I will tell you if I ever got the time." I said. "But now I gotto get back to work."
"Hey, Jeff, we have put Ares into the bed in the back." Athena shouted from the side of the room, this was a common occurance, so I didn't mind.
Eros(greek) came over to the bar and ordered some Ouzo.
"Dude, I told you many times, no arrows in here." I said.
"But why, I will not be using them." He replied.
"Yes, but that isn't true for Loki." I said as he shoved the snake Loki had turned into to optain one of the arrows away. "Also, how many people were unintentionally hit by those? Psyche and you at least."
"OK, fine." He said, but he tripped when he wanted to go back to slapping around Dad and the arrows flew all over the place. Loki quickly stole several and went off to use them.
"Loki!" I shouted. "Give the arrows back!"
But he was already throwing them around, and as I was shouting, several people who were looking at me were hit, including the spaghetti monster.
This was to be a hard day. I thought as Lofn, Aphrodity and the Spaghetti monster had been hit and thus fallen in love with me.
|
[WP] Four chefs stand as finalists in a reality cooking show. "The special ingredient for this sudden death round," said the announcer, raising the box to reveal two butcher knives, "is human." | "Now, to reveal the secret ingredient that you must incorporate into your entrees..."
The quirkily well-dressed probably gay but we'll never truly find out host holds his hand on the red satin curtain with a long pause for dramatic effect. The contestants are positively stoic with anticipation. The host pulls the curtain with the grace of a Las Vegas magician revealing two men strapped to tables struggling to break loose from their leather constraints.
"Humans!" A slightly shocked face comes over one of the contestants, another smiles bit. The host picks up two large butcher knives and stands between the two secret ingredients. "You have 45 minutes to create a delicious entree using human meat. You time begins..." He brings both blades down onto the necks of the humans, severing their heads. "NOW!"
The contestants scramble over and begin dissecting the humans. They're jostling for position and trying to get the perfect cuts for their meals. He host strolls over to the panel of judges.
"So humans. This is an interesting ingredient considering a couple of our contestants are undead former humans." The host says a light, cheerful way.
A woman-like judge with streaks of white in her black hair nods her head, "Yes, but let's not forget that the chief diet of the undead is live humans, so they should be very familiar with this particular meat."
A frog person judge butts in, "The other two shouldn't be strangers to eating humans either. One thing they'll have to watch out for is how tough the meat might be. Both those men look to be in fairly good shape which means their lean muscles will not be as tender as our contestants are probably used to getting. Cooking something like a quadriceps might go from tender to tough in a matter of seconds. They'll have to watch out for that." He adjusts his tuxedo cummerbund so that flap thing doesn't spring up and smack him in the face.
The contestants work furiously. Some of them cook like a person possessed, some are actually possessed. The two men are butchered, skinned, and deboned. Their brains are taken and their organs are harvested. One contestant is making a nice brain risotto with tender back loin. The camera cuts to her in an interview.
"I see the humans and I think 'Oh crap...' I haven't had to eat real human since I transcended into a brood queen. Most of my cooking background is in fungus and half dissolved rival brood warriors. I'm thinking I'll have to go with what I know and I know the back is a big chuck of meat that is very versatile."
The woman-like judge gets a puzzled look on her face and says, "What's the Saurian doing with the brains? He's throwing it in the blender?"
The judge watches him, "Yes and he appears to be adding cream to it. Now he's taking it over to-"
The woman-like judge interrupts excitedly, "To the ice cream machine! We're getting brain ice cream!" She claps what could be considered hands. The frog judge licks his eye ball with a big smile.
The third judge, an ethereal black void-like entity (if it can truly be perceived as such), telepathically in a way that isn't what us lower plain of existence beings consider words or language but none the less understand perfectly what is being said, says, "I haven't had brain ice cream in eons since the epoch of the ancient elders well before the new elders reclaimed the dreamscape! This is exciting!"
Time ticks by. The host holds his wrist up to his face and lets the contestants know there is only one minute left. They're frantically moving through the kitchen putting their finishing touches on the plates. One chef forgets about the toasted baguettes in the oven and burns them. Another chef has trouble getting the blood to emulsify and has to scrap the entire mayonnaise. The risotto doesn't work out either.
"Ten seconds chefs!" Jump cuts to each contestant putting one last thing on the plate. Staring at his wrist watch, the Host says, "Three! Two! One! Okay, hands, tentacles, and claws down!" The judges more-or-less clap and the chefs stare nervously at their own dishes as well as their competition's. They all head backstage as the judges wait patiently for each meal to be served.
The first plate is set down. The zombie chef who cooked it mumbles, with the help of an interpreter, that what he cooked was some kind of bone marrow infused spaghetti with jerk style testicles. The judges taste it and nitpick a few things, but seem overall pretty pleased with what they ate or consumed via other means. The frog judge clasps his hands together and asks, "If you were to win today, what would you do with the 10,000 souls?" The zombie mumbles and pantomimes that he'd take a vacation to Italy and visit his ancestors buried in the catacombs of various cathedrals.
The second plate is plopped down in front of the judges. The brood queen chef explains, in a very peppy tone, "This is a back slab stew with crispy butt skin on the side. I like to dip the skin in and let it soak a bit! Enjoy!" She winks some of her eyes. The woman-like judge takes a bite of the stew and makes an unhappy, sour face. She asks, "Did you bother to shave the butt skin before frying it?" The void judge adds, "Yes I'm getting a lot of hair on my butt skin as well." The brood queen chef looks nervous but says, "Well, I also saw hair as an option. I like the texture usually" The camera pans over to see a disgusted look on the woman-like judge's face.
The third plate comes in piping hot and ready to go. The vampyre chef who made it tries to use his hypnotic stare to change the judges' opinions, but once he locks "eyes" with the void, the vampyre chef begins to tremble and talk in tongues. He drops to his knees and claws his eyes out, but the visions do not end. He sees incomprehensible things existing in the past, present, and future at once. The horrors of a truth being told that he cannot ever understand. A looming dread, unlike anything he had ever felt before, creeps up his spine and takes roots in the deepest and darkest regions of his subconscious. His own insignificance is made brutally clear and it a fit of madness he drives a wooden stake into his own heart. His bodies collapses, almost beautifully, into a pile of ash. He is swept away by an intern and disqualified. Too bad too because all the judges agreed that the spinal fluid and yogurt sauce was very tasty.
The fourth set up plates get brought in from backstage but the intern slips on some sort of slime and drops them all. Immediately, hundreds of rats consumed him and the dishes. The squid chef (transformed from his Saurian form) who made them inks his pants and is also disqualified. Rats consume him as well.
The remaining two contestants are asked to leave as the judges deliberate which entree deserves the 10,000 souls. The void judge, in his own way, says, "I think we have an obvious winner here. The brood queen served us a bunch of butt hair." The frog judge adjusted his bow tie. He croaked out, "Yeah the zombie is the clear winner. His food tasted better. Plain and simple." The woman-like judge nodded in agreement. The host turned his palms up and asks, "So, are we in agreement?"
The zombie and brood queen are brought back out. One of their dishes is covered by a vision interpretation blocking force field. "You both cook valiantly" The host says with his hand on the force field, "But only one of you can take home the 10,000 souls. Who will it be..." There's such a long dramatic pause that even the mummies operating the cameras are thinking, "C'mon man! Just show us who one!"
Finally the host lifts the force field and reveals that the zombie chef's food is underneath. The zombie's eyes dust up a little bit and the brood queen storms into the crowd tearing at anyone in her path. As acid sprays and limbs fly in the background, the host congratulates the zombie chef. The woman-like judge says, "We just thought every component of your dish really came together nicely. They all complimented each other and you even managed to work in that elusive umami flavor. Great work! Oh and two of the other chefs were disqualified, and the other one served us butt hair. So, you are the obvious choice."
The zombie shambles away in triumph. The post show interview shows him mumbling to the camera with his interpreter doing the voice over. "I'm so excited to see all my ancestors in Italy. I know they'll be proud of my spaghetti!" He, somehow, jumps up in the air to click his heels together and ends up knocking off both his feet. | Karolyn was sweating. She didn’t think the three other chefs next to her could see, but she wiped her hands on her pants anyway. Her heartbeat only sped up when the announcer, Terrence Fields, a tall man with a devilish smile, walked towards the center table. There was only one covered dish on it this time, but last round there had been four special ingredients they had to cook with.
Chicken feet, wild boar, durian fruit, and ostrich eggs. Of the two chefs eliminated, one failed to use all of the ingredients (which Stefan Jones claimed wasn’t his fault - he needed two ostrich eggs for his dish and the other chef hadn’t been fast enough) and the other produced the worst meal.
Karolyn had been close to leaving, since her disastrous first round still scarred the judges, but her durian breakfast muffins pushed her into the Sudden Death Round. Now all the chefs could do was wait in silence for the ingredient reveal.
She missed the chaotic sounds when they were cooking. There was constant yelling and shouting, knives against cutting boards, timers going off, machines running. She could only hear staggered breathing now.
Terrence’s hand was lightly touching the plate cover. He was smirking at the chefs. Karolyn squirmed.
“You are the best chefs on this show. You’ve beat out the competition for the chance to win $500,000. You’ve made it all the way to the Sudden Death Round.”
He was so obviously delighting in watching their eyes widen with greed. He couldn’t keep the giddiness out of his voice. If Karolyn’s pride had outweighed her lust for money, maybe she would’ve walked out on him. But it didn’t, and she needed the cash, so she stayed and she listened and she drooled over the prize money with the competition.
“The special ingredient for the Sudden Death Round,” Terrance pulled the cover off with a flourish, revealing two gleaming butcher knives, “is human.”
Karolyn stopped breathing. There were a few moments of shocked silence, and then Ani broke in with, “This is a joke, right?”
Terrence kept his grin, backing up to the judging table, where a thick, sturdy gate was being lowered. “It’s a joke if you don’t want the money. But we’re sure at least one of you wants it badly enough.”
The man to Karolyn’s left twitched, and she flinched away from him. He looked down at her, and then glanced at the knives. He’s crazy, she thought, but when she glanced down the line, she could see Lisbeth looking at the weapons too.
Only Ani was voicing any protests, and her voice was struggling to be heard over Terrence’s loud call of, “That’s 50 minutes on the clock, chefs! Better get started!”
Stefan didn’t even hesitate. He quickly ran from Karolyn’s side to the center table,
snatching up a knife and heading for Ani.
Karolyn shrieked. Lisbeth was moving too, taking the other knife and following behind Simon. Ani bolted away from the duo, grabbing Karolyn’s arm and dragging her to a kitchen. Ani dug through the drawers, throwing pots and pans, plates and bowls, anything she could get her hands on, at Simon. Karolyn was frozen for a second, whimpering slightly, and then she chucked an oven mitt at the man striding over to kill them.
He ducked away from most of the objects, but a waffle iron caught him in the gut and he folded over, groaning. Lisbeth took the opportunity and sliced his throat open. It felt like time slowed, as everyone watched with morbid fascination at Stefan choking on his own blood, uselessly holding his throat as if that would stop him from dying. He spat, staining the white floor. He fell to his knees first, then onto his stomach.
He hadn’t even stopped twitching when Lisbeth started cutting off his arm.
Maybe it was because Stefan’s screams didn’t even seem human anymore, because they were guttural and deep and animalistic, or maybe it was because Karolyn needed the money, but she felt herself stooping down to pick up his knife and rolling him onto his back when Lisbeth was done.
Karolyn lifted his shirt up and hacked off pieces of his fleshy stomach. She could hear Ani moving behind her, and then she was using the knife next.
The money had won.
| |
[WP] Magic is real but can't be done alone. One person supplies the mana the other shapes it. | “For one to create magic, another must lose their magic...”
Those are the words our earliest church sorcerers uttered in the beginning, when we first discovered the mana within ourselves. It was with that realization that the laws of our land came into being, focused on the responsible use of magic.
Once, long ago, humans created great feats of technological splendor. The ability to travel great distances with very little effort, for example. Or, to grow food in the most inhospitable places on the planet. But all that technology came at a very sad and heavy price. It resulted in the death of millions of trees which, in turn, resulted in millions of deaths in the various animal species we shared that planet with. That's why, when we came to New Earth, we chose to embrace the magic of the world rather than the magics of technology. Instead of the mysteries of the circuit board and the laser, we chose to embrace the mysteries of the True Magic and the mana that powers it.
In a way, the same rule applied to technology as it does with True Magic. For the magic of technology to be created, the magic of life was sacrificed for it's continuance.
But, as Utopian as our new way of life sounds, we still have crimes and laws to counter those crimes.
Take, for instance, my colleague's client: A man creates life with magic. While creating life is laudable and an amazing feat, it means that somewhere, a life has been lost. Every bit of mana needed to create magic must come from someone. And only one person can provide the mana to create a single magical feat. The amount of mana required to create life is exactly the amount of mana within a single life.
Now let me quote another bit of church doctrine:
“Mana is Life, Life is Magic”
Those are the very words we have etched on every church and on every altar in our homes. I won't bore you with the complexities of how mana and magic work since we are all familiar with it. Suffice it to say that mana is pretty much the life-blood of human existence now.
And while I am sorry that this man was incapable of procreating in the biological sense, it doesn't give a justifiable excuse to irresponsibly create life using the mana of another person, knowing full well that they would take the life of that person in the process.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I seek the maximum sentence for this man's crime given that he knowingly and willingly took a life for his own selfish desires, no matter how sad they may be. I ask that he be separated from his magic, as is common for a crime of such seriousness.
Thank you. | A big bug has arrived, and he is one bad boy. I gotta kill it! He is a big mean bug and he's out on the town.
I call my friend Jerry, my mana-man. We met at The Magician's Dark Cathedral, where Master Bobbu taught us the legendary secret of magic.
Jerry says, "How large?"
I say, "His incredible size defies all expectation!"
Jerry does not respond. He is already on his way.
I know that Jerry will fill me up with all the mana I need, so I start thinking of what spell I want to use. Fire Kill? No, it's too common. The bug will surely catch on before I can finish the incantation. Undodgable Green Beam? If only! One false move and it could destroy the ozone layer.
Suddenly I think of a plan, and begin to smirk. Master Bobbu told me of a move that no other magician knows. This move will make the bug wish he was under a rug, once and for all.
Jerry arrives and slides across the street, never lifting his legs. He is full of mana and he knows it.
"Here it comes, Mana Blast!" He screams, and in a blur, his long fingernails extend farther and farther. His nails touch my shoulders and he begins chanting. I am full up and ready to go.
"Hey, bug-brain" I recklessly sneer.
"WHAT?!" exclaims the bug.
"Here comes your worst nightmare." Before I can even finish saying the words, my special move, "Bug Lazer" shoots out. My grandfather, Master Bobbu, shares a mind with me. He begins to channel his might into the lazer.
The bug was completely destroyed. The woman he was about to kill took me out for coffee and gave me a place to sleep when I was homeless. Not anymore.
And as long as I live, I will protect my home. Jerry smiles at me. He has used up the last of his power. Now he can finally rest.
A man runs out of his shop with some tea. You know what? I think we've earned it. | |
[WP] You knew this day would come. As you look around, barely able to stand, the chickens completely surround you. As they close in to finish you off, you close your eyes and think about how it all went wrong. | "You really think you can do it?" John asked while glancing at Mathias.
I laughed. "You make it sound like it's never been done before."
"Well to be fair," Mathias began, "No one has really did anything this huge before. On a small scale yeah, but this much..." His voice was trailing off as he stared down at his shoes. Why was he so nervous? I had no idea. My mind was preoccupied with something else. Like how the fuck I am actually going to do this.
"You worry too much," John said before patting his back. Mathias was startled, but eventually he gave in with a smile.
"That's why you have a video camera to capture this glorious moment when all is said and done."
I was nervous too, but I had to hide it as well. As I walked to the counter, I was greeted. "Hello," he said in a monotonous voice, "welcome to McDonald's what can I get you?"
"I'd like to order 100 McChicken Nuggets," I said, proudly.
He clearly didn't give a fuck. No minimum wage worker out.
"With Schezuan sauce." | It had all seemed so harmless. Roll into town, visit your properties to check on your tenants (and collect rent of course), visit your third wife, visit the weapons shop, then screw around for a while.
After all, you were working so hard, slaying monsters, fighting bandits, escorting merchants - you were the hero of Albion! You were even trying to beat the high score of that stupid Chicken Kickin' game. You won every game you came across.
But now...
Blood oozed from your swollen eye, dozens of cuts, your split lip. You knelt, propped up only by the split haft of your axe, your mana depleted, your last portion spent. Lining over you, a wiry youth, silent, clad in strange armor, and around you...
Chickens. Countless chickens.
You spit blood and look up, your voice haggard, "why?"
The youth raises his gleaming sword above his head, it's blue hilt sparkling in the glade. With a sure, swift motion he sweeps the blade down, pointing it at you.
The chickens surge forward in a wave of enraged feathers and claws, and darkness falls. | |
[WP] You knew this day would come. As you look around, barely able to stand, the chickens completely surround you. As they close in to finish you off, you close your eyes and think about how it all went wrong. | The chickens surrounded me. There I lay. Bleeding to death. Because of chickens. They stood in a circle around me, and I closed my eyes and thought back. Thought back to how it all started.
I had just left the store, sword strapped to my back and arrows in my hand. I took a quick look at the statue of the Goddess that everyone worshipped, and the chicken clucked. I wouldn't have attacked it, but one of my gems fell, and the chicken grabbed it and ran.
It ate the gem.
It was an incredibly valuable gem, and I was going to have it made into a fancy bow. That was obviously enraging, so I raised my sword, and struck the chicken.
Then it cried out. It cried out for help.
And there I was, laying on the floor, helpless, being mauled to death by a flock of angry chickens. My life was soon to end.
Here I am now, sword out of reach, laying in a pool of blood, surrounded by chickens. As my vision started to fade, I thought to myself.
"Damn, Kakariko Village's Cuccos don't mess around"
Game Over | It had all seemed so harmless. Roll into town, visit your properties to check on your tenants (and collect rent of course), visit your third wife, visit the weapons shop, then screw around for a while.
After all, you were working so hard, slaying monsters, fighting bandits, escorting merchants - you were the hero of Albion! You were even trying to beat the high score of that stupid Chicken Kickin' game. You won every game you came across.
But now...
Blood oozed from your swollen eye, dozens of cuts, your split lip. You knelt, propped up only by the split haft of your axe, your mana depleted, your last portion spent. Lining over you, a wiry youth, silent, clad in strange armor, and around you...
Chickens. Countless chickens.
You spit blood and look up, your voice haggard, "why?"
The youth raises his gleaming sword above his head, it's blue hilt sparkling in the glade. With a sure, swift motion he sweeps the blade down, pointing it at you.
The chickens surge forward in a wave of enraged feathers and claws, and darkness falls. | |
[WP] You are a muggle who has accidentally been admitted into Hogwarts. You think it is a normal boarding school. | Talk about weird first year experiences! A train in a hidden section of King’s Cross, boating across a lake to the school, the non-first years being pulled by horses that look like they came from the apocalypse (my dad would have loved those, if he was still with us) and the fact that some kids said, “the horseless carriages are so cool!”, bunch of nut jobs I’ve been stuck with.
Apparently, there are 4 houses in this madhouse. I’ve been sorted into Ravenclaw, the weird brain hat said I’m a magicless but smart muggle, told me to take care as I may not be welcomed by everyone. I don’t know what this ‘muggle’ word means but it didn’t sound nice.
I checked my class schedule and my first classes were Potions, Herbology and Defense Against the Dark arts, what is going on here? These classes don’t seem to fit into regular school curriculum, I’m getting a bad feeling about this and starting to think I’m might not be properly qualified.
Potions class goes incredibly well, while other student’s cauldrons blew up in their face, the professor applauded my work and confidently demonstrated its use to the class. Herbology was quite interesting and paired well with potions. It was easy to see how these two helped each other in some ways.
Walking into the Defense Against the Dark Arts class I immediately knew I was out of my element, maybe out of my world. As students were told to draw their wands, I realized that I didn’t have one. As our class learned wand spells to fend off dangerous beasts, I had to improvise and use my knowledge of herbs, potions and those monsters to protect myself. Soon, the Slytherin students started realizing my lack of magic, the muggle word started coming out and their presence became more and more annoying. My Ravenclaw friends seemed intrigued by my ingenuity and ability to act without magic. The Gryfindor and Hufflepuff students just sat back and watched as if it was some kind of show.
As the year went by, I quickly realized that I did not belong here, but I was determined to fit in and to succeed. While other students had Charms and other wand classes I seemed to have free blocks, this time I used to study more advanced herbs, potions and other options I could use in this magical world without using a wand. At the end of the year, I was taken aside by Professor McGonagall, I was scared, I hadn’t received my marks yet and I wasn’t sure I was going to be allowed back next year.
“How did you like your first year at Hogwarts?”, McGonagall queried with a smile.
“I feel like I didn’t belong, in fact I know I didn’t. Why was I accepted here?” My mind was racing, I never once had a teacher pull me aside, and I didn’t make many friends throughout the year save for a few in my house.
“You were the first in our attempt to start blending muggles into magical culture. There is a storm brewing, one we haven’t seen since the Dark Lord was vanquished many years ago. There is a growing need for smart and adaptable muggles like yourself in our world. You might not be able to use a wand, but your ability to use other magical substances to formulate a plan to attack and protect have taught us all something incredibly valuable. It’s no surprise you were top of your Defense against the dark arts class.”
“So, I was your guinea pig? What if I had failed? What would have happened then?”
“We chose you, because you we knew that you would likely not fail. You have a similar drive as the one that destroyed the Dark Lord, it was a gamble but the risk was calculated and it paid off. Will you return next year? The choice is yours.”
I accepted the offer, after all, there would be more muggles coming to Hogwarts needing my help. If we are to work with the magical community, maybe I can be that bridge.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I feel like this is pretty weak, but I gave it a shot. Let me know what you think. I'm always open to ideas.
| Little Johnny nervously climbed into the little boat with three other children dressed in robes and pointed hats. The boats then pushed off from the shore of the murky bank as if by magic, and silently glided into the darkness.
Around a bend in the shoreline, a crumbling ruin loomed out of the darkness. The other children gasped in wonder, yet Johnny didn't know what was so captivating. There was nothing remarkable about what he was seeing.
Just then, an overwhelming feeling came over him. Johnny forgot something. He wasn't sure what, or where, but without thinking, he stood up and leapt into the water, and started swimming back the way they came.
Tired and gasping for breath, Johnny climbed the bank and took in his surroundings. He had no idea where he was, or what he was doing there.
Johnny jumped at the sound of a twig breaking to his left. A tall, looming figure, emerged from the shadows. In the dim ambient light, he caught a glint of light reflecting off of glass, and could just barely make out a tartan scarf.
"Mr. Dursley, what *are* you doing out here?" | |
[WP] You are a muggle who has accidentally been admitted into Hogwarts. You think it is a normal boarding school. | Transfers... I hated getting transferred. It seemed like every year my father was into some new miracle solution to get rich quick, dragging us along half the English countryside only to disapear as quickly as he'd come.
He'd arrived before the sky was finished turning blue this morn', claiming he'd finally done it, that he was on the path to easy riches. Had I been more awake, I might have rolled my eyes. We'd started preparing luggage in advance for situations like these, as my mother was far too light hearted to ever turn them down. Deep down I think she knew better, but was too much the optimist to say so.
We'd arrived at the train station just as the early-birds had finally quieted their songs. We'd actually managed to get here before the trains for once, and so I stood against a column and rested my eyes for a bit. I could here my parents squabbling away at nothings, as it dissolved into my familiar dreamings. It ended too quickly, imagining I was falling backwards over a cliff with no handhold in sight to grasp as I fell.
Hitting the ground for once came as quite a shock, as my eyes saw stars and concerned faces before fading into darkness. I could hear one muttering, "Bloody first-years never understand the entrance..."
I awoke in a cabin on the train, already rumbling away to it's destination. A few of the others around me were also napping, though a pleasant looking raven-haired girl turned to me as I woke. "Quite a knock on the noggin you had there. Here, drink some of this, maybe it'll help." She said after pouring me a steaming cup of tea.
I smiled back at her, and she practically blushed as she turned away! Perhaps this year's boarding school wouldn't be so bad after all. I took a sip and the golden brew seemed to soothe my head and energize me at the same time.
"Man this is some good stuff!" I exclaimed. "What's in it?"
"Ah, I believe it's a bit of mandrake extract. Does wonders, doesn't it?" She replied. I nodded back, but didn't I recall mandrake flowers being poisonous? Ah, well, too late now I suppose, as I took another sip.
"They brought in your luggage, but couldn't seem to find any pets, so hopefully they didn't miss any." She explained as I sat there contented with my tea.
"I didn't think they even allowed pets at school! Did you bring one?" I asked. She reached down into her handbag and gently scooped up a little indeterminate ball of fluff and placed it gingerly on my lap. It uncurled into a kitten, purring gently as I stroked it.
"It's a twin-tailed shorthair," she explained as its gray fuzzy body rose and fell with each breath. It did indeed have two tails that twitched as though they each had a mind independent of their owners. Perhaps it was discounted at the pound, for being defective? Ah, well it's still cute enough.
I handed back the kit and introduced myself, "Names Jack by the way."
"Lovely to make your acquaintance Jack, my name is Olivia." She said, shining her pearly whites as she did so. The effect was nearly blinding, and it was my time to blush in response. Perhaps this year wouldn't be so bad after all.
We'd arrived before midday, and the castle overlooking the moors was spectacular. Perhaps my father really had stumbled into a bit of money if he was capable of sending me to a school with enough money to keep up archaic structures like this.
We'd had a bit of time to unload and relax before heading to an entrance banquet. The food was certainly better than my ma's cooking, bless her heart for trying, and I dug in as the proceedings went on.
There were some owls flying about now and again, but they must not have been feral as no one else but I was concerned for them pooping in the food or stealing it altogether. Didn't see anyone with falconer's gloves either but perhaps they roost where they please.
Then the old bearded headmaster called everyone to hush up. It was some sort of introduction for the first-years. Some sort of rustic hat was placed on their head and then the headmaster would yell out some gibberish from behind them. I got from asking around they must be antiquated names for the dorms, and in a sort of pseudo-hazing introduction at least everyone knew where they were headed.
I saw Olivia go up and sure as her hair is dark as night she was named a, "ravenclaw." Though the name seems silly to me, since I thought birds had talons, not claws. After everyone was called I still sat there waiting for my turn. I ran up to the headmaster and tugged on his ornate robes.
"Sir, I think you'd forgotten to call me. Perhaps because I transferred here no later than this morning, they forgot to put me on the list." I explained.
He looked at me with wisened eyes and a knowing smile. "Ah yes, how could we forget young Jack here?" He said almost laughing. Strange that he knew my name, but it at least assured me that my fears were unfounded.
I sat on the stool and he placed the big hat on my head. I looked over to Olivia still beaming at me, and thought of how it would be nice to spend some more time with her. The headmaster luckily called out "Ravenclaw" for me as well, and I scurried back to the feast, elated.
The first couple of days were very strange here. This chemistry class in particular was very difficult. It used so many organic elements that it almost seemed unfair to subject freshman to it. I'd also noticed people had been attending some woodworking class off the grounds at some point and it must be quite popular as they were all clutching queer little sticks, rounded and polished to a smooth finish.
I didn't want to feel left out of the latest craze, so I got my pocket knife out of my luggage and spent a night or two whittling away my own stick. It wasn't perfect, and I was a cut or two worse for making it, but it's natural knots seemed to be part of its charm.
The whole place was so labyrinthine that I often had to ask seniors to guide me back to my dorm at night. No matter how many times I took the stairs they didn't make a lick of sense to me. It always felt like the numerous portraits were switched out for similar ones as well, but I was too busy with my studies to pay close attention to them.
It was odd how few of my peers wanted to go out on the pitch and play football. They must have been tasked with punishment or chores as they all held brooms, surely off to clean up some mess they'd made.
I had the good fortune of receiving a baby mouse from one of the senior's pregnant ones, though I hadn't the slightest idea how I'd ever bring it home to mother. She was dreadfully terrified of mice. It kept me busy in my off hours playing and caring for it, and I even got to bring it in my pocket to class as they seemed to really like show and tell here.
I began to have adolescent stirrings the more I saw of Olivia, but she remained playfully coy to any advances I'd make. I'd spot her across the hall and jog over to her as she seemingly vanished each time, only to reappear giggling from behind me and tap me on the shoulder. I'll never understand ladies, or how they did it.
My studies also seemed to get beyond me pretty quickly. There was so much to study, and across a range of such archaic topics such as Latin that it was all I could do to memorize the answers without remembering what they even meant. Pronunciation and intonation seemed so important in Latin, no wonder it was a dead language.
I also learned to steer clear of the seniors unless absolutely necessary. Not that there was much bullying, but they made so much trouble it seemed every week featured a new story of their fire setting, animal freeing debacles. It suddenly seemed much more prudent that the castle be made of stone when they are so many would-be arsonists about.
There is also a dreadful amount of noises in this place. From people running and shouting like their life is in jeopardy in the halls to all sorts of creaks, moans, and hissing in the older sections. It's a wonder that students get anything done around here.
Olivia had come time and again to the forefront of my mind. I had her alone in the dorm commons one wintry night, as most had gone out to celebrate in holiday debauchery. The fireplace had cast a lovely din about the room as it snapped and crackled.
Yet she remained as puzzling as ever. I made a quick joke about some mythical creature we'd been studying to lighten the mood, and before she could cease her giggling I leaned in for a kiss on the cheek. She happened to turn towards me at the final moment and our lips connected squarely.
They lingered there for a moment as her face turned a bright red when it was traditionally so fair. She whispered something I couldn't quite hear and I came away from the kiss feeling positively petrified. She buried her head in her sweater-covered sleeves and looked like she might dash off at any moment, but before she did lean back in and place a gift in my lap, and a peck on my cheek.
This is turning out to be a fine year indeed.
(Edit, fixed minor British terminologies)
| Little Johnny nervously climbed into the little boat with three other children dressed in robes and pointed hats. The boats then pushed off from the shore of the murky bank as if by magic, and silently glided into the darkness.
Around a bend in the shoreline, a crumbling ruin loomed out of the darkness. The other children gasped in wonder, yet Johnny didn't know what was so captivating. There was nothing remarkable about what he was seeing.
Just then, an overwhelming feeling came over him. Johnny forgot something. He wasn't sure what, or where, but without thinking, he stood up and leapt into the water, and started swimming back the way they came.
Tired and gasping for breath, Johnny climbed the bank and took in his surroundings. He had no idea where he was, or what he was doing there.
Johnny jumped at the sound of a twig breaking to his left. A tall, looming figure, emerged from the shadows. In the dim ambient light, he caught a glint of light reflecting off of glass, and could just barely make out a tartan scarf.
"Mr. Dursley, what *are* you doing out here?" | |
[WP] You are a muggle who has accidentally been admitted into Hogwarts. You think it is a normal boarding school. | Transfers... I hated getting transferred. It seemed like every year my father was into some new miracle solution to get rich quick, dragging us along half the English countryside only to disapear as quickly as he'd come.
He'd arrived before the sky was finished turning blue this morn', claiming he'd finally done it, that he was on the path to easy riches. Had I been more awake, I might have rolled my eyes. We'd started preparing luggage in advance for situations like these, as my mother was far too light hearted to ever turn them down. Deep down I think she knew better, but was too much the optimist to say so.
We'd arrived at the train station just as the early-birds had finally quieted their songs. We'd actually managed to get here before the trains for once, and so I stood against a column and rested my eyes for a bit. I could here my parents squabbling away at nothings, as it dissolved into my familiar dreamings. It ended too quickly, imagining I was falling backwards over a cliff with no handhold in sight to grasp as I fell.
Hitting the ground for once came as quite a shock, as my eyes saw stars and concerned faces before fading into darkness. I could hear one muttering, "Bloody first-years never understand the entrance..."
I awoke in a cabin on the train, already rumbling away to it's destination. A few of the others around me were also napping, though a pleasant looking raven-haired girl turned to me as I woke. "Quite a knock on the noggin you had there. Here, drink some of this, maybe it'll help." She said after pouring me a steaming cup of tea.
I smiled back at her, and she practically blushed as she turned away! Perhaps this year's boarding school wouldn't be so bad after all. I took a sip and the golden brew seemed to soothe my head and energize me at the same time.
"Man this is some good stuff!" I exclaimed. "What's in it?"
"Ah, I believe it's a bit of mandrake extract. Does wonders, doesn't it?" She replied. I nodded back, but didn't I recall mandrake flowers being poisonous? Ah, well, too late now I suppose, as I took another sip.
"They brought in your luggage, but couldn't seem to find any pets, so hopefully they didn't miss any." She explained as I sat there contented with my tea.
"I didn't think they even allowed pets at school! Did you bring one?" I asked. She reached down into her handbag and gently scooped up a little indeterminate ball of fluff and placed it gingerly on my lap. It uncurled into a kitten, purring gently as I stroked it.
"It's a twin-tailed shorthair," she explained as its gray fuzzy body rose and fell with each breath. It did indeed have two tails that twitched as though they each had a mind independent of their owners. Perhaps it was discounted at the pound, for being defective? Ah, well it's still cute enough.
I handed back the kit and introduced myself, "Names Jack by the way."
"Lovely to make your acquaintance Jack, my name is Olivia." She said, shining her pearly whites as she did so. The effect was nearly blinding, and it was my time to blush in response. Perhaps this year wouldn't be so bad after all.
We'd arrived before midday, and the castle overlooking the moors was spectacular. Perhaps my father really had stumbled into a bit of money if he was capable of sending me to a school with enough money to keep up archaic structures like this.
We'd had a bit of time to unload and relax before heading to an entrance banquet. The food was certainly better than my ma's cooking, bless her heart for trying, and I dug in as the proceedings went on.
There were some owls flying about now and again, but they must not have been feral as no one else but I was concerned for them pooping in the food or stealing it altogether. Didn't see anyone with falconer's gloves either but perhaps they roost where they please.
Then the old bearded headmaster called everyone to hush up. It was some sort of introduction for the first-years. Some sort of rustic hat was placed on their head and then the headmaster would yell out some gibberish from behind them. I got from asking around they must be antiquated names for the dorms, and in a sort of pseudo-hazing introduction at least everyone knew where they were headed.
I saw Olivia go up and sure as her hair is dark as night she was named a, "ravenclaw." Though the name seems silly to me, since I thought birds had talons, not claws. After everyone was called I still sat there waiting for my turn. I ran up to the headmaster and tugged on his ornate robes.
"Sir, I think you'd forgotten to call me. Perhaps because I transferred here no later than this morning, they forgot to put me on the list." I explained.
He looked at me with wisened eyes and a knowing smile. "Ah yes, how could we forget young Jack here?" He said almost laughing. Strange that he knew my name, but it at least assured me that my fears were unfounded.
I sat on the stool and he placed the big hat on my head. I looked over to Olivia still beaming at me, and thought of how it would be nice to spend some more time with her. The headmaster luckily called out "Ravenclaw" for me as well, and I scurried back to the feast, elated.
The first couple of days were very strange here. This chemistry class in particular was very difficult. It used so many organic elements that it almost seemed unfair to subject freshman to it. I'd also noticed people had been attending some woodworking class off the grounds at some point and it must be quite popular as they were all clutching queer little sticks, rounded and polished to a smooth finish.
I didn't want to feel left out of the latest craze, so I got my pocket knife out of my luggage and spent a night or two whittling away my own stick. It wasn't perfect, and I was a cut or two worse for making it, but it's natural knots seemed to be part of its charm.
The whole place was so labyrinthine that I often had to ask seniors to guide me back to my dorm at night. No matter how many times I took the stairs they didn't make a lick of sense to me. It always felt like the numerous portraits were switched out for similar ones as well, but I was too busy with my studies to pay close attention to them.
It was odd how few of my peers wanted to go out on the pitch and play football. They must have been tasked with punishment or chores as they all held brooms, surely off to clean up some mess they'd made.
I had the good fortune of receiving a baby mouse from one of the senior's pregnant ones, though I hadn't the slightest idea how I'd ever bring it home to mother. She was dreadfully terrified of mice. It kept me busy in my off hours playing and caring for it, and I even got to bring it in my pocket to class as they seemed to really like show and tell here.
I began to have adolescent stirrings the more I saw of Olivia, but she remained playfully coy to any advances I'd make. I'd spot her across the hall and jog over to her as she seemingly vanished each time, only to reappear giggling from behind me and tap me on the shoulder. I'll never understand ladies, or how they did it.
My studies also seemed to get beyond me pretty quickly. There was so much to study, and across a range of such archaic topics such as Latin that it was all I could do to memorize the answers without remembering what they even meant. Pronunciation and intonation seemed so important in Latin, no wonder it was a dead language.
I also learned to steer clear of the seniors unless absolutely necessary. Not that there was much bullying, but they made so much trouble it seemed every week featured a new story of their fire setting, animal freeing debacles. It suddenly seemed much more prudent that the castle be made of stone when they are so many would-be arsonists about.
There is also a dreadful amount of noises in this place. From people running and shouting like their life is in jeopardy in the halls to all sorts of creaks, moans, and hissing in the older sections. It's a wonder that students get anything done around here.
Olivia had come time and again to the forefront of my mind. I had her alone in the dorm commons one wintry night, as most had gone out to celebrate in holiday debauchery. The fireplace had cast a lovely din about the room as it snapped and crackled.
Yet she remained as puzzling as ever. I made a quick joke about some mythical creature we'd been studying to lighten the mood, and before she could cease her giggling I leaned in for a kiss on the cheek. She happened to turn towards me at the final moment and our lips connected squarely.
They lingered there for a moment as her face turned a bright red when it was traditionally so fair. She whispered something I couldn't quite hear and I came away from the kiss feeling positively petrified. She buried her head in her sweater-covered sleeves and looked like she might dash off at any moment, but before she did lean back in and place a gift in my lap, and a peck on my cheek.
This is turning out to be a fine year indeed.
(Edit, fixed minor British terminologies)
| Talk about weird first year experiences! A train in a hidden section of King’s Cross, boating across a lake to the school, the non-first years being pulled by horses that look like they came from the apocalypse (my dad would have loved those, if he was still with us) and the fact that some kids said, “the horseless carriages are so cool!”, bunch of nut jobs I’ve been stuck with.
Apparently, there are 4 houses in this madhouse. I’ve been sorted into Ravenclaw, the weird brain hat said I’m a magicless but smart muggle, told me to take care as I may not be welcomed by everyone. I don’t know what this ‘muggle’ word means but it didn’t sound nice.
I checked my class schedule and my first classes were Potions, Herbology and Defense Against the Dark arts, what is going on here? These classes don’t seem to fit into regular school curriculum, I’m getting a bad feeling about this and starting to think I’m might not be properly qualified.
Potions class goes incredibly well, while other student’s cauldrons blew up in their face, the professor applauded my work and confidently demonstrated its use to the class. Herbology was quite interesting and paired well with potions. It was easy to see how these two helped each other in some ways.
Walking into the Defense Against the Dark Arts class I immediately knew I was out of my element, maybe out of my world. As students were told to draw their wands, I realized that I didn’t have one. As our class learned wand spells to fend off dangerous beasts, I had to improvise and use my knowledge of herbs, potions and those monsters to protect myself. Soon, the Slytherin students started realizing my lack of magic, the muggle word started coming out and their presence became more and more annoying. My Ravenclaw friends seemed intrigued by my ingenuity and ability to act without magic. The Gryfindor and Hufflepuff students just sat back and watched as if it was some kind of show.
As the year went by, I quickly realized that I did not belong here, but I was determined to fit in and to succeed. While other students had Charms and other wand classes I seemed to have free blocks, this time I used to study more advanced herbs, potions and other options I could use in this magical world without using a wand. At the end of the year, I was taken aside by Professor McGonagall, I was scared, I hadn’t received my marks yet and I wasn’t sure I was going to be allowed back next year.
“How did you like your first year at Hogwarts?”, McGonagall queried with a smile.
“I feel like I didn’t belong, in fact I know I didn’t. Why was I accepted here?” My mind was racing, I never once had a teacher pull me aside, and I didn’t make many friends throughout the year save for a few in my house.
“You were the first in our attempt to start blending muggles into magical culture. There is a storm brewing, one we haven’t seen since the Dark Lord was vanquished many years ago. There is a growing need for smart and adaptable muggles like yourself in our world. You might not be able to use a wand, but your ability to use other magical substances to formulate a plan to attack and protect have taught us all something incredibly valuable. It’s no surprise you were top of your Defense against the dark arts class.”
“So, I was your guinea pig? What if I had failed? What would have happened then?”
“We chose you, because you we knew that you would likely not fail. You have a similar drive as the one that destroyed the Dark Lord, it was a gamble but the risk was calculated and it paid off. Will you return next year? The choice is yours.”
I accepted the offer, after all, there would be more muggles coming to Hogwarts needing my help. If we are to work with the magical community, maybe I can be that bridge.
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I feel like this is pretty weak, but I gave it a shot. Let me know what you think. I'm always open to ideas.
| |
[WP] Your cat has a secret double-life as a drug kingpin. They help you out whenever they can. | "Will you calm down, James?"
Sweat pooled on my brow as I tried to comprehend what was going on in front of me. My cat, somehow dressed in an oversized three piece suit and standing on his hind legs, was talking to me.
"W... What?" I managed to stutter. Again.
Mr. Meowington sighed and squeezed his temple as if it was the stupidest thing he had heard in years. "Look, James, you need help. We've been pals for 5 years now, haven't we? Let me help you."
"How are you talking??? How are you wearing a suit? How are you standing on your hind legs?" I managed to blurt out after an hour of stammering and sitting on my bathroom floor, unable to move from the gravity of the situation. My cat can... Talk.
"James. Jamesy boy. Jamie. Jamieson. Don't worry so much about the 'how' and worry about the 'how'... Wait I mean... Anyways, what I'm trying to say is, let me help you. I can make your little problem... OUR little problem... Go away."
I managed to stand up, wobbly at the knees and towered over Mr. Meowington, even with his newfound ability to stand on his hind legs.
"How are you going to help me? I don't even know who those guys were and they said they'd be back". Mr Meowington smiled, walking to the couch, sticking a paw under the cushions and pulling out a cellphone that wasn't mine. "One mewment, James. I know just the guys."
I peered through the broken blinds of my third floor apartment and watched as three burly men, walked up the front steps of the building and disappeared into the entrance. Mr. Meowington, 'Meowicelli' as he wanted me to call him from now on, hadn't stopped making calls to people on his phone. He kept mentioning someone named Molly and her friend Mary. There was a loud banging on the door and Meowicelli now looked at me with an expectant look, "Well? I can't open knobs, James. I don't have opposable thumbs." I stared at him in disbelief before opening the door and letting the men into the room.
"This is #1, #2 and #3, James. Describe to them what happened to you earlier today and they'll take care of it." Take care of it? What did that mean? Were these men going to hurt those other guys? I stuttered for a second before recounting my story of how I was walking home and three guys had roughed me up for no apparent reason, happened to know my name and said that I owed them ten thousand dollars. If I didn't have it by tomorrow, they'd show up at my house and told me my address.
The man, #1 apparently, looked at Meowicelli and spoke gruffly, "Boss. I think this is an attempt to get at you. They must have seen you and this guy together somewhere. Do you want us to use a little 'purrsuasion' to make this problem go away?"
Meowicelli seemed pleased with this situation as he sat on the couch and twirled his own tail "That would be paw-some of you, #1".
The men, nodded at Meowicelli then at me and left as quickly as they came. Meowicelli shook out of his oversized suit, dropped onto all fours and rubbed his body against my thigh before licking his lips and saying "There, feel better, James? Meow. How about some dinner? I hear that new Cat's Feast is delicious." | Mark went home glum today. He was mugged, and lost the cash bonus he received at work. "You sure do have the life, George," he said to the Tabby cat, on his floor, licking his paw. "I was mugged today. They stole my bonus." The cat didn't look up, but he heard every word. Despite his aloofness, George loved his owner, and would do anything for him. Later that night George crept to the secert box that held 4 disposable cell phones, a 9mm handgun, and a stack of unmarked bills. He pulled the phone out, and dialled a number. "Ay, it's George. I got a hit for ya." The next morning, a body was found. The police were confused, as the wounds came from a very low angle, and the body was covered it cat hair. | |
[WP] The NPC you're drinking with starts slurring his words, and breaking the fourth wall | Mass Effect Online has always been one of my favorite games. It was amazing to see the IP turn around after the mess that was Andromeda, even though I liked it. But hey, an online game that was fully immersive with VR headsets, real-time voice recognition for NPCs? New quests added on a weekly basis? Of course I signed up, even if the only player race was "human" and you could only be your own gender due to limitations in the voice recognition.
Nevertheless, I loved playing the game, even if I couldn't go with my usual female characters. Hey, Fem!Shep and Sara Ryder had better voice acting than Male!Shep and Scott. But when I wasn't going on quests and finding bizarre glitches, I went to an Irish pub on a colony world called Tír na nÓg and hung out with an NPC friend of mine, a turian called Castis. Sure, it's weird how activities are instances - only the player can see them - but it's always fun to hang out with Garrus' father. It was with him that it happened.
'You ever think it's weird how people hate the geth because they're different?' Castis asked me. 'Like... just cause they're computers? I've seen my fair share of hatred, turians against krogan, asari against quarians...'
'It's an odd group mentality, people more comfortable with people like themselves,' I said. 'And these groups can appear strange to outsiders, like a whole bunch of gay people hanging around or teenage girls who obsess over some boy band.'
'And with geth it's easier to distance themselves from others?'
'I guess so,' I said as I grabbed my cider - the real cider on my desk, not the virtual one in the bar. 'Even if they can talk or... think... people may think it's just not the same as their own mind.'
I don't know why Castis was suddenly talking about it, but I tried to help him nonetheless.
'You know, someone told me of something like this, an odd human analogy,' he said as he drank his own beer. 'Ever hear of the Chinese Room?'
'They made some really good games on the turn of the 21st,' I replied, remaining in character.
'Not them,' he said. 'So, you have someone - a human, or an asari or hanar - trapped in a room with a table, a pen, a bookshelf and a large selection of phrasebooks. The only means in and out is a locked door with a slit inside that can be used to pass notes from a group of people from outside. Those outside the room can only speak and communicate in Chinese, but the person inside the room *can't*.'
'Oh, I've heard of this,' I said. 'This is a thought experiment to criticize the Turing Test for a computer's self-awareness, right?'
'So, the woman inside the room is given notes from the people outside and she needs to use the phrasebooks to find an appropriate response,' Castis continued. 'Also, the phrasebooks don't have translations, only appropriate answers. The conversation goes like this...'
---
*'Who are you?'* asked the group outside.
*'I'm a student from Hong Kong,'* the woman replied.
*'Are you well?'*
*'I'm a little hungry,'* she answers. So, the group gives her something to eat, a plate of twice-cooked pork. They keep talking for a short while.
*'What color are your panties?'* one man asked.
*'Black and lacy,'* the woman answers.
*'What do you like to drink?'*
*'White wines and sweet cocktails.'*
*'What's your favorite food?'*
*'Chicken noodle soup.'*
*'What's your least-favorite food?'*
*'Probably that overcooked meat you gave me,'* the woman replies.
---
'But some of these are wrong,' Castis continues. 'She's a quarian native to the migrant fleet, her favorite food is a sushi made from a fish native to Palaven, she didn't even touch the pork and her panties are white and rather plain.'
'Right, like a chat program or VI,' I said. 'They don't behave in a way that isn't programmed into them, right?'
'Right...' Castis said in a dejected manner.
'...Is something wrong?' I asked him.
'...I've never even met my son, nor my daughter or even my late wife,' Castis said. 'All because they're not even in this fucking game.'
And that was when I regretted live-streaming the game.
---
**Chapter 2 coming soon** | Grogos sat at the bar, staring down at his empty cup. It had been hours since he entered and took a seat. Upstairs, the beautiful witch was waiting for him. For a few coins she would tell him where the Sword of Burning Skies is hidden. All he had to do is climb the stairs and talk to her. Instead, he waited at the bar.
Margran was already drunk when Grogos arrived. The old man had been waving his mug in the air and singing along with the bard. Now, he was well past his limit, his head laying on the dirty wooden counter.
"You know what his problem is? He can't make decisions, that's what! Changes his mind like most men change their socks!"
Margran was looking at Grogos now, holding his mostly empty mug accusingly in the air.
Grogos glanced around the bar. "Who are you speaking of, old man?"
With a laugh, Margran sat up and slammed his mug on the counter.
"Jake Thompson, that's who! Damn kid." He turned his head slightly toward the ceiling and shook his fist. "That's right Jake, I'm, talking about you!"
"I do not know this Jake Thompson that you speak of." Grogos slid to the edge of the stool, ready to make his way up the stairs.
"Yeah, you know him. He's the little bastard that controls everything." Margran waved to the barmaid to refill his mug. "He's the reason you won't go up to the witch."
When the barmaid refused to come over, Margran cursed and laid his head back down on the counter.
"I've seen a lot of you guys come in here, with your swords and armor." He waved his hand toward the stairs before closing his eyes. "Never make it to the first quest."
Grogos glanced back to the stairs. He shifted a little, his feet pressing against the floor as he debated standing.
"Bet he's making some rogue right now, knives and leather and ..." Margran's voice faded away into snores.
Outside, Grogos could hear the shouts of the city guards. They sounded the same as when he entered the city. Slowly, the bar began to get dark.
"Barmaid," Grogos shouted, "what is happening?"
The room went black. | |
Needless to say yes the monster/serial killer can indeed move during the frozen time as well. | [WP] You can freeze time but whenever you do a Horror Flick monster/serial killer appears and tries to kill you. | We'd been running for our lifes since I spotted them at the counter and signaled her to start fleeing. However, these guys seemed to be smarter than the regulars goons HQ sends after us. They seemed to be tracking our every move, as if they somehow knew where we were going to be even before we did.
'Jim!', she called out, as we hid behind a tree deep in the woods. I turn to her right I as I'm crouching in a bush.
'They're coming.', she whispered.
'I know, Mike. Just try to hide. They'll give up sooner or later.', I responded. She shook her head.
'I don't think they are. These guys are different. I think we really pissed off the managing partners this time.', she theorized.
'Sigh. But we had to, they would've killed your brother. He's the only family you have left.', I said as I readied myself for combat.
'James, use your gift to get us out of here.', she said. I could tell she Michelle wasn't her usual self today She was actually worried that we weren't gonna make it out of this alive. And I knew she was right, HQ had sent their best. Steve was probably with them as well. I had treaded this encounter ever since he found out about us, but it couldn't be helped.
'We'll have much more problems, if I do. You know that.', I tried to persuade her to drop it. She hadn't fought her life, not like that. There wasn't any humanity left in *them*.
'But, Jim. We're gonna...', she started until we heard a branch cracking.
'Oh, Jimbo! Is Mike with you?', it was Steve, my oldest friend, now their best agent.
'Fuck!', I yelled as I got up. There was no point hiding anymore, so I got up. I knew I had to do it. There was no other way. I exhaled and took a second to prepare myself mentally for the challenge ahead.
'Give me your sword, Michelle. And the gun. I'll do it.', I told her. She pulled out her longsword and .44 and handed them to me.
'Here. All six rounds are in ready to be fired.', she said.
Here goes, I thought.
*TIME... I BECKON YOU, COME FORTH!*
The ritual was complete. I heard a growl and knew it was a werewolf. I hadn't fought one of those since high school. This was going to fun. But I wasn't me anymore. The darkness was in me as well.
'To fight it, you need some in yourself as well.', those were the words dad had said before he was burned alive by the grandwraith.
Here it comes. It jumped out of a nearby bush with it's claws ready to cut me into pieces and its fangs ready to chew me up. This furry creature was lunging at me. A normal person would be scared, but I wasn't in high school anymore. I grasped tightly to the handle of the sword.
'Hiyah!', it happened in a split second. I had swung the blade and this is what happened.
'Your turn Steve.', I said as I turned away from the two halves of a werewolf's corpse, that had I'd cut clean in the middle, between the eyes. Its guts were probably spilling out, but I had no time to look at dead things, as I had to shoot my best friend and his four cohorts. I took my time aiming at each of their heads and pulling the trigger. I left Steve for last. I knew I had to talk to him before it was all over.
*TIME: LEND YOUR CURSE TO THIS POOR SOUL UNTIL HIS DYING BREATH*
'Huawh', Steve drew breath.
'What the...? Jim?', he was confused.
'Sit, Steve. We have a lot to talk about.'
....
A while later.
'Come on, Michelle. It's done.', I said as I took her hand and helped her out from the bush.
'Jim! What happened?', she asked. She looked almost shocked to see me live.
'I'll tell you later.'
| Freezing time is but one of the requirements for a time mage like me. Should something go wrong, I can always...
...cast a hastening spell on myself, to speed up my running away from the monstrous serial killer.
...cast a slowing spell on the serial killer, to hamper his movements.
...and of course, concentrate painstakingly and then rip open the limits of space-time to cast a spell that rains meteors on the fiend.
I just have to play my cards right, and that leather-faced, chainsaw-wielding, sharp-gloved cur will be no more.
Winner, winner, chicken dinner. |
Needless to say yes the monster/serial killer can indeed move during the frozen time as well. | [WP] You can freeze time but whenever you do a Horror Flick monster/serial killer appears and tries to kill you. | I first stopped time in a moment of altruism. A squirrel had scampered onto the street, oblivious of the oncoming traffic. It was stupid, but maybe that's what made me help. I remember thinking, just for a moment, how wrong it was that we'd paved over its home. Built vehicles it could never understand and drove these deathtraps all over its property. It was content with its life, because it did its best. Because it was too stupid to ever know what it'd be like to live in a forest of pine trees, surrounded by food, with ample space to run and jump and fuck. Yeah. I was a stupid hippie.
All these thoughts festered in my mind like a poison, fermenting into something less than righteous. Hatred? Anger? It made me feel dirty. I stomped the ground, hard, and the world stopped around me. Traffic came to a sudden halt. Birds hung in midair as if suspended by invisible wires. I picked the squirrel up and gingerly placed it in a tree. Its body wasn't in quite the right pose for it, but it'd be a hell of a lot better than getting run over by a car.
A clown stared at me from across the street. Had it always been there? Alarm bells rang in my head as it waved at me while the rest of the world stood still. I ran.
It chased me with its oversized shoes squeaking with each step. It must've been pretty comical, a clown chasing a hippie across a frozen world. I felt like a Banksy sketch.
This was had gone from a pretty neat power to the worst superpower in the world in a matter of minutes. I just wanted it gone. And so, I dug deep into my mind and tried to find my inner peace to will the clown away, or get the world moving again so I could find help. It didn't work. It's easy to find inner peace on a couch with some tea. Not so much when a psycho clown monster is chasing you down the street.
"Time in! Unfreeze! Abracadabra! Open Sesame! Balunga Baluno!" I shouted. Nothing worked. I banged my knee against a windshield as I failed to leap over a car and rolled to the side. "Fucking shit! Motherfucker!"
Time unfroze. The clown looked as surprised as I was when the pickup truck next to it came to life and ran it over. The driver didn't even give it a second glance. Maybe it only existed to me? Had it all been a dream? The lack of roadkill on the asphalt seemed to say otherwise.
Since then, I've fled from the gaping maw of an abyss of writhing limbs to stop a man from jumping off a skyscraper. I've dodged through a crowd, evading a masked man with a chainsaw so I wouldn't be late for my mother's funeral. But each time, I came out on top. Because we have this thing called the fight or flight response. The glands above your kidneys pump adrenaline throughout your body, shutting down your digestion, dilating your pupils, and sending blood to your muscles. And though I may have been scared of the clown, I am a fighter. I don't think a flighter would have kept using the power.
I am a fighter, so the boogeyman doesn't scare me, not even when he runs at me with a bloodied dagger. Frankenstein's monster doesn't scare me, not when you can start a fire with basically anything these days and chase him off. Dracula doesn't scare me when I eat so much garlic that my breath probably scares *him*.
But I just stopped time to rescue a drowning girl. I wrapped her in my jacket and handed her off to her parents. I'd jumped in with just my trousers on, and they're almost dry now. But everything's normal. No slasher's hiding in the bushes. No vampire's hanging from the trees. No ogre's picking his teeth with human bones. I just can't find anything out of the ordinary, no matter how I look. I'm a fighter. But that scares the hell out of me.
_______________________________________________
[more](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/) | Freezing time is but one of the requirements for a time mage like me. Should something go wrong, I can always...
...cast a hastening spell on myself, to speed up my running away from the monstrous serial killer.
...cast a slowing spell on the serial killer, to hamper his movements.
...and of course, concentrate painstakingly and then rip open the limits of space-time to cast a spell that rains meteors on the fiend.
I just have to play my cards right, and that leather-faced, chainsaw-wielding, sharp-gloved cur will be no more.
Winner, winner, chicken dinner. |
Needless to say yes the monster/serial killer can indeed move during the frozen time as well. | [WP] You can freeze time but whenever you do a Horror Flick monster/serial killer appears and tries to kill you. | People used to tell me to make the most out of every moment and I used to laugh at them. Maybe to them, that would’ve been great advice, perhaps even words to live by. But to me, I had unlimited moments, seconds, hours, days. I could freeze time at will and experience all the world had to offer.
Unlike them, I didn’t waste my hours working nine to five jobs. Why would I when the whole world was my wallet? Every stranger on the street was a piggybank ready to be smashed.
I didn’t throw my days away honing a craft. What would be the point? At the snap of my fingers, I could do things more impressive than anyone else in the world.
And squander my years on starting a family? Every second, I could be in a different state in a different country in a different god damn hemisphere. Why would I want anything to tie me down?
I truly lived in the moment. The only downside to my power came in the form a floating black cloak, advancing toward me at a walking speed when I froze time. While the rest of the world stood still, it never did. Though as long as I kept my distance, it didn’t matter. The *thing*, whatever it was, could only inch its way forward.
Once, after a particularly heavy night of drinking, I stood a football field’s distance away from it. “What are you gonna do?” I slurred, my voice echoing through the night. “What are you supposed to be, some sort of grim reaper? You can’t just let me have my fun in peace?”
I threw my bottle of vodka at it, but the bottle only froze in place as soon as it left my hand.
“Kiss my ass,” I screamed, turned and dropped my pants. That was the closest I had ever gotten to what I presumed to be the grim reaper, or some other sort of vengeful spirit.
The days trickled by. While I spent most my time in a frozen world, there were moments where I needed time to proceed forward. For example, for partying and sex. So little by little, rave after rave and girl after girl, the hours passed until I had become an old man. Though my official age was seventy-three, I had lived a life over triple that.
Though the doctors told me I wouldn’t live much longer. They said something about my liver or my brain or my heart, perhaps all three. My body, at last, had finally had enough of me. But I hadn’t had enough of it. So I froze time for the longest stretch in my life. And all I had to do was play keep-away from that vengeful grandpa.
The years stretched on. Despite my heart being unable to stop beating and my liver being unable to fail, my body still ached and screamed at the slightest of movements. I couldn’t take short walks without a cane. All my efforts became devoted to keeping away from the spirit, inch by inch increasing my distance so that it might never catch up to me. And I had all the time in the world to do so.
I passed by children on the playground, carelessly squandering their days on pointless games of four square. I passed by young adults in their prime, unable to even realize that these hours were fleeting. I passed by elders older than myself, who have finally realized the value of even a single second.
Every person I passed, I hated. The elderly had family to carry on their name. The adults had jobs to leave their marks on the world. Even the children were busy honing pointless crafts and skills if only for the sake of doing so.
And what did I have? Only time.
I stopped walking. My eyes flooded with tears. “I should’ve made the most of my moments,” I whispered to nobody for nothing could hear me. Well, save one thing. I turned and found the floating specter in the distance.
“What do you want from me?” I screamed at it. “You want me to unfreeze time? For me to die of old age? I can’t do that. I won’t!”
I shook my head furiously and choked on the next words. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
My knees gave and I fell to the floor. Tears poured down my face and I brought my legs into my body, rocking myself back and forth.
I still hadn’t done anything. All the time in the world and I had done nothing.
“I just want this to be over,” I cried. And I knew how to make it so, I only had to unfreeze time. But I couldn’t because I knew its consequences.
God had me staring into a furnace and he expected me to jump in when I could just as easily escape my fate. Impossible. I couldn’t. I hadn’t for years now.
My arms quivered as another cry escaped me. “Help.”
And at last, the spirit arrived. It held a dark scythe and looked at me with empty eyes.
“I can’t stop it,” I whispered. “You can’t ask me to. You can’t expect me to.”
The being nodded and I gasped.
“Help me,” I told it.
It nodded again and at last I understood. It wasn’t a vengeful spirit at all, but a merciful one. I closed my eyes and for the first time in my life, started counting down the seconds.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 5+ stories weekly and ~200 stories already written!
| Freezing time is but one of the requirements for a time mage like me. Should something go wrong, I can always...
...cast a hastening spell on myself, to speed up my running away from the monstrous serial killer.
...cast a slowing spell on the serial killer, to hamper his movements.
...and of course, concentrate painstakingly and then rip open the limits of space-time to cast a spell that rains meteors on the fiend.
I just have to play my cards right, and that leather-faced, chainsaw-wielding, sharp-gloved cur will be no more.
Winner, winner, chicken dinner. |
Needless to say yes the monster/serial killer can indeed move during the frozen time as well. | [WP] You can freeze time but whenever you do a Horror Flick monster/serial killer appears and tries to kill you. | "And.... freeze!" I froze time, causing all motion around me to stop.
Super scary ambient background music began to play, slowly increasing in sound and tempo.
I grabbed my camera, walked into the scary house set, turned the camera on, and began to wait.
The music continued to increase in sound, eventually becoming so loud that I knew something *had* to happen.
A four foot tall dude with a dollar store mask and a knife stepped out of the shadows. He had pretty bad posture, so he looked three feet to me.
The knife was stained, it's red, viscous liquid staining the wooden floor.
"Wait," I said, as I paused my recording. "Is that *ketchup?" I asked, pointing to the knife.
The killer froze and sheepishly hid the knife behind his back. As he did so a small object fell out of his pockets, dramatically landing on the stained floor.
It was a McDonalds french fry.
I sighed, disappointed. Didn't he know how unhealthy those were? It was a miracle he stayed in such good shape. I resumed the recording.
"Please!" I screamed out, adding as much desperation to my voice as I could. I started to sob, falling backwards on to the floor, tears staining my vision.
"My family..." I stuttered out.
"My daughter..."
The murderer froze, giving me an extremely confused look. He stumbled over to me as I continued to give horrified screams, my high-res camera capturing each moment of it. As he got upon me, he raised his hand, the ketchup-that-kinda-looks-like-blood falling on to my face...
And he opened the pantry.
*Damn it!* I thought. *Not another one.* I gave a disappointed sigh, and ended the recording.
The killer of healthy diets began to search the pantry. He did so calmly, at first, but then his hands began to more frantically and erratically as he searched for something he couldn't find. He grew increasingly livid. Finally, he froze, turning towards me. His words came out slurred.
"You. Have. No. Twinkie?" Rage consumed his voice.
I laughed nervously, confirming that I didn't. This had never happened before.
He looked at me, raising his knife.
Murder was in his eyes.
***
[r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)! | Freezing time is but one of the requirements for a time mage like me. Should something go wrong, I can always...
...cast a hastening spell on myself, to speed up my running away from the monstrous serial killer.
...cast a slowing spell on the serial killer, to hamper his movements.
...and of course, concentrate painstakingly and then rip open the limits of space-time to cast a spell that rains meteors on the fiend.
I just have to play my cards right, and that leather-faced, chainsaw-wielding, sharp-gloved cur will be no more.
Winner, winner, chicken dinner. |
Needless to say yes the monster/serial killer can indeed move during the frozen time as well. | [WP] You can freeze time but whenever you do a Horror Flick monster/serial killer appears and tries to kill you. | I first stopped time in a moment of altruism. A squirrel had scampered onto the street, oblivious of the oncoming traffic. It was stupid, but maybe that's what made me help. I remember thinking, just for a moment, how wrong it was that we'd paved over its home. Built vehicles it could never understand and drove these deathtraps all over its property. It was content with its life, because it did its best. Because it was too stupid to ever know what it'd be like to live in a forest of pine trees, surrounded by food, with ample space to run and jump and fuck. Yeah. I was a stupid hippie.
All these thoughts festered in my mind like a poison, fermenting into something less than righteous. Hatred? Anger? It made me feel dirty. I stomped the ground, hard, and the world stopped around me. Traffic came to a sudden halt. Birds hung in midair as if suspended by invisible wires. I picked the squirrel up and gingerly placed it in a tree. Its body wasn't in quite the right pose for it, but it'd be a hell of a lot better than getting run over by a car.
A clown stared at me from across the street. Had it always been there? Alarm bells rang in my head as it waved at me while the rest of the world stood still. I ran.
It chased me with its oversized shoes squeaking with each step. It must've been pretty comical, a clown chasing a hippie across a frozen world. I felt like a Banksy sketch.
This was had gone from a pretty neat power to the worst superpower in the world in a matter of minutes. I just wanted it gone. And so, I dug deep into my mind and tried to find my inner peace to will the clown away, or get the world moving again so I could find help. It didn't work. It's easy to find inner peace on a couch with some tea. Not so much when a psycho clown monster is chasing you down the street.
"Time in! Unfreeze! Abracadabra! Open Sesame! Balunga Baluno!" I shouted. Nothing worked. I banged my knee against a windshield as I failed to leap over a car and rolled to the side. "Fucking shit! Motherfucker!"
Time unfroze. The clown looked as surprised as I was when the pickup truck next to it came to life and ran it over. The driver didn't even give it a second glance. Maybe it only existed to me? Had it all been a dream? The lack of roadkill on the asphalt seemed to say otherwise.
Since then, I've fled from the gaping maw of an abyss of writhing limbs to stop a man from jumping off a skyscraper. I've dodged through a crowd, evading a masked man with a chainsaw so I wouldn't be late for my mother's funeral. But each time, I came out on top. Because we have this thing called the fight or flight response. The glands above your kidneys pump adrenaline throughout your body, shutting down your digestion, dilating your pupils, and sending blood to your muscles. And though I may have been scared of the clown, I am a fighter. I don't think a flighter would have kept using the power.
I am a fighter, so the boogeyman doesn't scare me, not even when he runs at me with a bloodied dagger. Frankenstein's monster doesn't scare me, not when you can start a fire with basically anything these days and chase him off. Dracula doesn't scare me when I eat so much garlic that my breath probably scares *him*.
But I just stopped time to rescue a drowning girl. I wrapped her in my jacket and handed her off to her parents. I'd jumped in with just my trousers on, and they're almost dry now. But everything's normal. No slasher's hiding in the bushes. No vampire's hanging from the trees. No ogre's picking his teeth with human bones. I just can't find anything out of the ordinary, no matter how I look. I'm a fighter. But that scares the hell out of me.
_______________________________________________
[more](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/) | Some people are born with abilities. Like writing, drawings cooking... etc. Some people are born with powers. Like flight, super speed, laser eyes.
I was born with the power to freeze time.
It sounded neat at first. In my youth, I'd freeze time but only for a seconds, like to maybe cheat on a test or steal my brother's food or maybe to catch up with the bus. But as I got older, I started to use my powers more often.
That's when I learned that these... powers are not a gift. They are a curse.
A very bad curse.
Let me explain.
Every time that I froze time for a little longer, I always felt like I was... you know, being watched, which is both impossible and possible. Time is froze so duh, some people are frozen staring at you. But I felt like I was being watch by something that wasn't frozen in the space time continuum. Or whatever they call it.
This feeling of being watched started to become less than a feeling of watched and more of a feeling of being stalked like a lion hunting its prey. And the longer that time stayed frozen, the more paranoid and scared I became. I wanted to believe it was all in my head but I couldn't.
Then one day, I accidentally got stuck in time.
Both freezing and unfreezing time takes concentration. If I lose focus then that makes it harder to send the world back to spinning on its axis.
I had missed the bus yet again and froze time to catch up with it. It took longer than expected because the bus had gotten farther than before. On my light walk, I felt that... feeling again. The feeling of being watched. I kept going, shaking off that feeling.
Boy, I should have never done that.
I passed by dim alleyway. Something was down there when there shouldn't have been. There were some people down there. They were frozen in time too, thankfully. I let out a sign of relief as I walked into the dim alleyway. They were two people making out. They looked like they were having a jolly old time.
Wait a mintue. I knew... I knew them. That was my boyfriend and... my brother?
The sense of betrayal hit me like a freight train. I knew my brother was gay but my boyfriend? That... that was hard for me to swallow.
We'd been together for a year. He was the kindest guy I'd ever met. He'd done nothing to make me suspect he was a cheater, let alone gay. This scene broke me.
I planned to unfreeze time and talk it out with him but my hands were shaking and I couldn't do it. He lied to me. Every sweet little word, every perfect little gift, every make out picnic under the stars, did it all mean *nothing* to him?
Apparently no. There he was, making out with my brother.
Then there were footsteps. Footsteps when there shouldn't have been, footsteps that weren't mine. They were coming from the shadowy area of the alleyway, from all the way in the back. I felt like I was frozen in time itself.
It was a xenomorph.
You may laugh, but I'm not joking. An actual xenomorph wearing what seemed to be a top hat, came out of the shadows.
I'll bet you're laughing now.
I was too, until it roared at me, the top hat falling from it's silly head and hitting the ground without a sound. It rushed at me and that was when I turned and ran.
It chased me down the street for about a block or so until it stopped, roaring or whatever the sound it was making was. I never really saw Alien, I just know what xenomorphs are.
This sound was different though. It was like... a call. That's when more of them came out the shadows, some from under cars, some came bursting out of buildings and some from thin air.
That is when I screamed and unfroze time.
Now that time had come back to normal, the xenomorphs were gone. I still felt paranoid and scared but they were definitely gone.
After that day, I vowed never to use my powers longer than twenty seconds.
But for now... now, I had a boyfriend to talk to. Or should I say, my *ex* boyfriend. |
Needless to say yes the monster/serial killer can indeed move during the frozen time as well. | [WP] You can freeze time but whenever you do a Horror Flick monster/serial killer appears and tries to kill you. | People used to tell me to make the most out of every moment and I used to laugh at them. Maybe to them, that would’ve been great advice, perhaps even words to live by. But to me, I had unlimited moments, seconds, hours, days. I could freeze time at will and experience all the world had to offer.
Unlike them, I didn’t waste my hours working nine to five jobs. Why would I when the whole world was my wallet? Every stranger on the street was a piggybank ready to be smashed.
I didn’t throw my days away honing a craft. What would be the point? At the snap of my fingers, I could do things more impressive than anyone else in the world.
And squander my years on starting a family? Every second, I could be in a different state in a different country in a different god damn hemisphere. Why would I want anything to tie me down?
I truly lived in the moment. The only downside to my power came in the form a floating black cloak, advancing toward me at a walking speed when I froze time. While the rest of the world stood still, it never did. Though as long as I kept my distance, it didn’t matter. The *thing*, whatever it was, could only inch its way forward.
Once, after a particularly heavy night of drinking, I stood a football field’s distance away from it. “What are you gonna do?” I slurred, my voice echoing through the night. “What are you supposed to be, some sort of grim reaper? You can’t just let me have my fun in peace?”
I threw my bottle of vodka at it, but the bottle only froze in place as soon as it left my hand.
“Kiss my ass,” I screamed, turned and dropped my pants. That was the closest I had ever gotten to what I presumed to be the grim reaper, or some other sort of vengeful spirit.
The days trickled by. While I spent most my time in a frozen world, there were moments where I needed time to proceed forward. For example, for partying and sex. So little by little, rave after rave and girl after girl, the hours passed until I had become an old man. Though my official age was seventy-three, I had lived a life over triple that.
Though the doctors told me I wouldn’t live much longer. They said something about my liver or my brain or my heart, perhaps all three. My body, at last, had finally had enough of me. But I hadn’t had enough of it. So I froze time for the longest stretch in my life. And all I had to do was play keep-away from that vengeful grandpa.
The years stretched on. Despite my heart being unable to stop beating and my liver being unable to fail, my body still ached and screamed at the slightest of movements. I couldn’t take short walks without a cane. All my efforts became devoted to keeping away from the spirit, inch by inch increasing my distance so that it might never catch up to me. And I had all the time in the world to do so.
I passed by children on the playground, carelessly squandering their days on pointless games of four square. I passed by young adults in their prime, unable to even realize that these hours were fleeting. I passed by elders older than myself, who have finally realized the value of even a single second.
Every person I passed, I hated. The elderly had family to carry on their name. The adults had jobs to leave their marks on the world. Even the children were busy honing pointless crafts and skills if only for the sake of doing so.
And what did I have? Only time.
I stopped walking. My eyes flooded with tears. “I should’ve made the most of my moments,” I whispered to nobody for nothing could hear me. Well, save one thing. I turned and found the floating specter in the distance.
“What do you want from me?” I screamed at it. “You want me to unfreeze time? For me to die of old age? I can’t do that. I won’t!”
I shook my head furiously and choked on the next words. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
My knees gave and I fell to the floor. Tears poured down my face and I brought my legs into my body, rocking myself back and forth.
I still hadn’t done anything. All the time in the world and I had done nothing.
“I just want this to be over,” I cried. And I knew how to make it so, I only had to unfreeze time. But I couldn’t because I knew its consequences.
God had me staring into a furnace and he expected me to jump in when I could just as easily escape my fate. Impossible. I couldn’t. I hadn’t for years now.
My arms quivered as another cry escaped me. “Help.”
And at last, the spirit arrived. It held a dark scythe and looked at me with empty eyes.
“I can’t stop it,” I whispered. “You can’t ask me to. You can’t expect me to.”
The being nodded and I gasped.
“Help me,” I told it.
It nodded again and at last I understood. It wasn’t a vengeful spirit at all, but a merciful one. I closed my eyes and for the first time in my life, started counting down the seconds.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 5+ stories weekly and ~200 stories already written!
| Some people are born with abilities. Like writing, drawings cooking... etc. Some people are born with powers. Like flight, super speed, laser eyes.
I was born with the power to freeze time.
It sounded neat at first. In my youth, I'd freeze time but only for a seconds, like to maybe cheat on a test or steal my brother's food or maybe to catch up with the bus. But as I got older, I started to use my powers more often.
That's when I learned that these... powers are not a gift. They are a curse.
A very bad curse.
Let me explain.
Every time that I froze time for a little longer, I always felt like I was... you know, being watched, which is both impossible and possible. Time is froze so duh, some people are frozen staring at you. But I felt like I was being watch by something that wasn't frozen in the space time continuum. Or whatever they call it.
This feeling of being watched started to become less than a feeling of watched and more of a feeling of being stalked like a lion hunting its prey. And the longer that time stayed frozen, the more paranoid and scared I became. I wanted to believe it was all in my head but I couldn't.
Then one day, I accidentally got stuck in time.
Both freezing and unfreezing time takes concentration. If I lose focus then that makes it harder to send the world back to spinning on its axis.
I had missed the bus yet again and froze time to catch up with it. It took longer than expected because the bus had gotten farther than before. On my light walk, I felt that... feeling again. The feeling of being watched. I kept going, shaking off that feeling.
Boy, I should have never done that.
I passed by dim alleyway. Something was down there when there shouldn't have been. There were some people down there. They were frozen in time too, thankfully. I let out a sign of relief as I walked into the dim alleyway. They were two people making out. They looked like they were having a jolly old time.
Wait a mintue. I knew... I knew them. That was my boyfriend and... my brother?
The sense of betrayal hit me like a freight train. I knew my brother was gay but my boyfriend? That... that was hard for me to swallow.
We'd been together for a year. He was the kindest guy I'd ever met. He'd done nothing to make me suspect he was a cheater, let alone gay. This scene broke me.
I planned to unfreeze time and talk it out with him but my hands were shaking and I couldn't do it. He lied to me. Every sweet little word, every perfect little gift, every make out picnic under the stars, did it all mean *nothing* to him?
Apparently no. There he was, making out with my brother.
Then there were footsteps. Footsteps when there shouldn't have been, footsteps that weren't mine. They were coming from the shadowy area of the alleyway, from all the way in the back. I felt like I was frozen in time itself.
It was a xenomorph.
You may laugh, but I'm not joking. An actual xenomorph wearing what seemed to be a top hat, came out of the shadows.
I'll bet you're laughing now.
I was too, until it roared at me, the top hat falling from it's silly head and hitting the ground without a sound. It rushed at me and that was when I turned and ran.
It chased me down the street for about a block or so until it stopped, roaring or whatever the sound it was making was. I never really saw Alien, I just know what xenomorphs are.
This sound was different though. It was like... a call. That's when more of them came out the shadows, some from under cars, some came bursting out of buildings and some from thin air.
That is when I screamed and unfroze time.
Now that time had come back to normal, the xenomorphs were gone. I still felt paranoid and scared but they were definitely gone.
After that day, I vowed never to use my powers longer than twenty seconds.
But for now... now, I had a boyfriend to talk to. Or should I say, my *ex* boyfriend. |
Needless to say yes the monster/serial killer can indeed move during the frozen time as well. | [WP] You can freeze time but whenever you do a Horror Flick monster/serial killer appears and tries to kill you. | "Tell me krueger, how many seconds can you move in my world of stopped time?"
As the knives slowed to a halt in the aor infront of him, freddy looked as if he had accepted his fate. His target counted down to the end of the stopped time,
5
"I hope you can see this, all the better to teach you fear", he remembered hearing as he dirst discovered the power of his prey's ability.
4
A twitch came from his gloved right hand and the mark turned white, "impossible" he cried.
3
He couldn't see him anymore, he never even saw him leave. Panic took over as his eyes darted to and fro, searching until they saw it come down on him.
2
Now. Now was the time. His hands shot up to try and absorb the blow, but the crushing weight and force proved too much, and the machine crashed into the ground below.
1, "Time resumes".
He stood, watching the burning remains of his newest challenger, truly his was the power that would conquer the world. He laughed. Yet, he never heard it.
"There was one reason why you lost chum, just one."
And he realized how doomed he was with the sound of knives scraping against eachother.
"You pissed me off...
"
| Some people are born with abilities. Like writing, drawings cooking... etc. Some people are born with powers. Like flight, super speed, laser eyes.
I was born with the power to freeze time.
It sounded neat at first. In my youth, I'd freeze time but only for a seconds, like to maybe cheat on a test or steal my brother's food or maybe to catch up with the bus. But as I got older, I started to use my powers more often.
That's when I learned that these... powers are not a gift. They are a curse.
A very bad curse.
Let me explain.
Every time that I froze time for a little longer, I always felt like I was... you know, being watched, which is both impossible and possible. Time is froze so duh, some people are frozen staring at you. But I felt like I was being watch by something that wasn't frozen in the space time continuum. Or whatever they call it.
This feeling of being watched started to become less than a feeling of watched and more of a feeling of being stalked like a lion hunting its prey. And the longer that time stayed frozen, the more paranoid and scared I became. I wanted to believe it was all in my head but I couldn't.
Then one day, I accidentally got stuck in time.
Both freezing and unfreezing time takes concentration. If I lose focus then that makes it harder to send the world back to spinning on its axis.
I had missed the bus yet again and froze time to catch up with it. It took longer than expected because the bus had gotten farther than before. On my light walk, I felt that... feeling again. The feeling of being watched. I kept going, shaking off that feeling.
Boy, I should have never done that.
I passed by dim alleyway. Something was down there when there shouldn't have been. There were some people down there. They were frozen in time too, thankfully. I let out a sign of relief as I walked into the dim alleyway. They were two people making out. They looked like they were having a jolly old time.
Wait a mintue. I knew... I knew them. That was my boyfriend and... my brother?
The sense of betrayal hit me like a freight train. I knew my brother was gay but my boyfriend? That... that was hard for me to swallow.
We'd been together for a year. He was the kindest guy I'd ever met. He'd done nothing to make me suspect he was a cheater, let alone gay. This scene broke me.
I planned to unfreeze time and talk it out with him but my hands were shaking and I couldn't do it. He lied to me. Every sweet little word, every perfect little gift, every make out picnic under the stars, did it all mean *nothing* to him?
Apparently no. There he was, making out with my brother.
Then there were footsteps. Footsteps when there shouldn't have been, footsteps that weren't mine. They were coming from the shadowy area of the alleyway, from all the way in the back. I felt like I was frozen in time itself.
It was a xenomorph.
You may laugh, but I'm not joking. An actual xenomorph wearing what seemed to be a top hat, came out of the shadows.
I'll bet you're laughing now.
I was too, until it roared at me, the top hat falling from it's silly head and hitting the ground without a sound. It rushed at me and that was when I turned and ran.
It chased me down the street for about a block or so until it stopped, roaring or whatever the sound it was making was. I never really saw Alien, I just know what xenomorphs are.
This sound was different though. It was like... a call. That's when more of them came out the shadows, some from under cars, some came bursting out of buildings and some from thin air.
That is when I screamed and unfroze time.
Now that time had come back to normal, the xenomorphs were gone. I still felt paranoid and scared but they were definitely gone.
After that day, I vowed never to use my powers longer than twenty seconds.
But for now... now, I had a boyfriend to talk to. Or should I say, my *ex* boyfriend. |
Needless to say yes the monster/serial killer can indeed move during the frozen time as well. | [WP] You can freeze time but whenever you do a Horror Flick monster/serial killer appears and tries to kill you. | I placed my bag of groceries on the counter and returned the cashier's smile. Nice, clean-looking guy; I hadn't seen him around before.
"You new here?" I said.
He chuckled as he passed my items under the scanner. "Guess you're a regular, huh." An eyebrow arched, he held up a bundle of leeks in one hand, and a fat cabbage in another. "There seems to be a mistake here. I don't see any meat."
I snorted and placed a wad of notes on the counter. "Guilty. I try to eat healthy."
"No problem." He popped the cash register open and counted the change. "There's a new pizza joint that opened up nearby. All vegetarian. You should go check it out."
I tipped my cap at him as I grabbed the bag. However, a small bottle of olive oil perched precariously on the top of the pile rolled out and fell toward the floor.
Its descent seemed to stretch for an eternity ... until it stopped in mid-air, barely an inch from the floor.
I stooped to snatch it back. As I straightened, noise and movement returned to my surroundings, including the cashier's gasp of surprise.
"Wow, your reflexes ..." he said.
I grinned at him before leaving, trying not to think of the dark shadow that had briefly appeared behind me in the display window's reflection.
***
"I'm home, dad," I said as I entered our flat. Kicking the door close behind me, I went to our kitchen to put my shopping away. After I'd set a pot of rice to boil, I took a thermos flask of hot water to the single bedroom, where my father dozed.
As always, the sight of him made me bite my lip and threaten to unleash a flood of tears. Dad wheezed gently into his pillow through his withered lips. His arms and legs were like twigs, wasted away from his illness. I made my way to him quietly, and placed my hand on the leathery, sallow skin of his forehead. He didn't stir.
I refilled the glass by his bedside and sat down to watch. Despite his rattling breaths, he looked quite peaceful, really. A stray breeze from outside the window caressed the wisps of hair remaining on his forehead. I could still remember when they were a glossy black.
After a while, I went back to the kitchen to began cutting up vegetables for dinner. Dad hated porridge, but anything else simply took up too much of his strength to chew. Bitterness welled up in me as I thought back to when Dad used to flip burgers out on our yard in the summer, laughing as he chugged a beer with Mr. Frost from next door.
"Sam?" Dad's voice came croakily from his room.
"I'm cooking, be with you in a sec."
"Sam, where are you?"
"In the kitchen, Dad."
Hearing the shuffling of his feet on the floor, I spun around, eyes wide. "Dad, you can't be up!"
He tried to give me a shaky thumbs up, but at that moment, one of his feet slipped out from under him. I watched, horrified, as his head descended toward the corner of our coffee table.
Time stopped.
I took one step toward him, and the creature appeared.
Covered in a coat of shaggy fur, the wolf-like stood almost six feet tall on its hind legs. Slobber dripped from its distinctly canine muzzle. Snarling, it dropped into a crouch, regarding me with hate-filled eyes. Evidently it still remembered the last I had narrowly escaped from it in an incident involving two nuns and a cinder block.
"Not now, please," I said, gripping the knife like a dagger.
The creature leaped; I narrowly escaped a scalping by dodging. The knife flashed and drew blood across one of its limbs. Its yelp turned into a full-chested roar as it spun around and swiped at my face.
I stepped back, slashing wildly to keep it at bay, but the creature wasn't impressed. It blurred into a charge, howling, that slammed me into the ground.
Without thought, I shoved my knife between its maws to keep them from closing over my neck. Despite the mortal danger, I had eyes only for my father. His expression was still locked into one of shock. His gaze stared directly into mine, inanimate; yet looked to me as if he was begging for help.
Five feet away, yet a chasm wider than a mountain.
The wolf thing bore my arms down.
I felt the sting of teeth on my skin.
So I did the only thing I could do. I closed my eyes, flushing a flood of tears.
The pressure vanished from my chest, at the same time that I heard a crack of impact.
***
*Thanks for reading! Check out my [sub](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more stories!* | Some people are born with abilities. Like writing, drawings cooking... etc. Some people are born with powers. Like flight, super speed, laser eyes.
I was born with the power to freeze time.
It sounded neat at first. In my youth, I'd freeze time but only for a seconds, like to maybe cheat on a test or steal my brother's food or maybe to catch up with the bus. But as I got older, I started to use my powers more often.
That's when I learned that these... powers are not a gift. They are a curse.
A very bad curse.
Let me explain.
Every time that I froze time for a little longer, I always felt like I was... you know, being watched, which is both impossible and possible. Time is froze so duh, some people are frozen staring at you. But I felt like I was being watch by something that wasn't frozen in the space time continuum. Or whatever they call it.
This feeling of being watched started to become less than a feeling of watched and more of a feeling of being stalked like a lion hunting its prey. And the longer that time stayed frozen, the more paranoid and scared I became. I wanted to believe it was all in my head but I couldn't.
Then one day, I accidentally got stuck in time.
Both freezing and unfreezing time takes concentration. If I lose focus then that makes it harder to send the world back to spinning on its axis.
I had missed the bus yet again and froze time to catch up with it. It took longer than expected because the bus had gotten farther than before. On my light walk, I felt that... feeling again. The feeling of being watched. I kept going, shaking off that feeling.
Boy, I should have never done that.
I passed by dim alleyway. Something was down there when there shouldn't have been. There were some people down there. They were frozen in time too, thankfully. I let out a sign of relief as I walked into the dim alleyway. They were two people making out. They looked like they were having a jolly old time.
Wait a mintue. I knew... I knew them. That was my boyfriend and... my brother?
The sense of betrayal hit me like a freight train. I knew my brother was gay but my boyfriend? That... that was hard for me to swallow.
We'd been together for a year. He was the kindest guy I'd ever met. He'd done nothing to make me suspect he was a cheater, let alone gay. This scene broke me.
I planned to unfreeze time and talk it out with him but my hands were shaking and I couldn't do it. He lied to me. Every sweet little word, every perfect little gift, every make out picnic under the stars, did it all mean *nothing* to him?
Apparently no. There he was, making out with my brother.
Then there were footsteps. Footsteps when there shouldn't have been, footsteps that weren't mine. They were coming from the shadowy area of the alleyway, from all the way in the back. I felt like I was frozen in time itself.
It was a xenomorph.
You may laugh, but I'm not joking. An actual xenomorph wearing what seemed to be a top hat, came out of the shadows.
I'll bet you're laughing now.
I was too, until it roared at me, the top hat falling from it's silly head and hitting the ground without a sound. It rushed at me and that was when I turned and ran.
It chased me down the street for about a block or so until it stopped, roaring or whatever the sound it was making was. I never really saw Alien, I just know what xenomorphs are.
This sound was different though. It was like... a call. That's when more of them came out the shadows, some from under cars, some came bursting out of buildings and some from thin air.
That is when I screamed and unfroze time.
Now that time had come back to normal, the xenomorphs were gone. I still felt paranoid and scared but they were definitely gone.
After that day, I vowed never to use my powers longer than twenty seconds.
But for now... now, I had a boyfriend to talk to. Or should I say, my *ex* boyfriend. |
Needless to say yes the monster/serial killer can indeed move during the frozen time as well. | [WP] You can freeze time but whenever you do a Horror Flick monster/serial killer appears and tries to kill you. | "And.... freeze!" I froze time, causing all motion around me to stop.
Super scary ambient background music began to play, slowly increasing in sound and tempo.
I grabbed my camera, walked into the scary house set, turned the camera on, and began to wait.
The music continued to increase in sound, eventually becoming so loud that I knew something *had* to happen.
A four foot tall dude with a dollar store mask and a knife stepped out of the shadows. He had pretty bad posture, so he looked three feet to me.
The knife was stained, it's red, viscous liquid staining the wooden floor.
"Wait," I said, as I paused my recording. "Is that *ketchup?" I asked, pointing to the knife.
The killer froze and sheepishly hid the knife behind his back. As he did so a small object fell out of his pockets, dramatically landing on the stained floor.
It was a McDonalds french fry.
I sighed, disappointed. Didn't he know how unhealthy those were? It was a miracle he stayed in such good shape. I resumed the recording.
"Please!" I screamed out, adding as much desperation to my voice as I could. I started to sob, falling backwards on to the floor, tears staining my vision.
"My family..." I stuttered out.
"My daughter..."
The murderer froze, giving me an extremely confused look. He stumbled over to me as I continued to give horrified screams, my high-res camera capturing each moment of it. As he got upon me, he raised his hand, the ketchup-that-kinda-looks-like-blood falling on to my face...
And he opened the pantry.
*Damn it!* I thought. *Not another one.* I gave a disappointed sigh, and ended the recording.
The killer of healthy diets began to search the pantry. He did so calmly, at first, but then his hands began to more frantically and erratically as he searched for something he couldn't find. He grew increasingly livid. Finally, he froze, turning towards me. His words came out slurred.
"You. Have. No. Twinkie?" Rage consumed his voice.
I laughed nervously, confirming that I didn't. This had never happened before.
He looked at me, raising his knife.
Murder was in his eyes.
***
[r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)! | Some people are born with abilities. Like writing, drawings cooking... etc. Some people are born with powers. Like flight, super speed, laser eyes.
I was born with the power to freeze time.
It sounded neat at first. In my youth, I'd freeze time but only for a seconds, like to maybe cheat on a test or steal my brother's food or maybe to catch up with the bus. But as I got older, I started to use my powers more often.
That's when I learned that these... powers are not a gift. They are a curse.
A very bad curse.
Let me explain.
Every time that I froze time for a little longer, I always felt like I was... you know, being watched, which is both impossible and possible. Time is froze so duh, some people are frozen staring at you. But I felt like I was being watch by something that wasn't frozen in the space time continuum. Or whatever they call it.
This feeling of being watched started to become less than a feeling of watched and more of a feeling of being stalked like a lion hunting its prey. And the longer that time stayed frozen, the more paranoid and scared I became. I wanted to believe it was all in my head but I couldn't.
Then one day, I accidentally got stuck in time.
Both freezing and unfreezing time takes concentration. If I lose focus then that makes it harder to send the world back to spinning on its axis.
I had missed the bus yet again and froze time to catch up with it. It took longer than expected because the bus had gotten farther than before. On my light walk, I felt that... feeling again. The feeling of being watched. I kept going, shaking off that feeling.
Boy, I should have never done that.
I passed by dim alleyway. Something was down there when there shouldn't have been. There were some people down there. They were frozen in time too, thankfully. I let out a sign of relief as I walked into the dim alleyway. They were two people making out. They looked like they were having a jolly old time.
Wait a mintue. I knew... I knew them. That was my boyfriend and... my brother?
The sense of betrayal hit me like a freight train. I knew my brother was gay but my boyfriend? That... that was hard for me to swallow.
We'd been together for a year. He was the kindest guy I'd ever met. He'd done nothing to make me suspect he was a cheater, let alone gay. This scene broke me.
I planned to unfreeze time and talk it out with him but my hands were shaking and I couldn't do it. He lied to me. Every sweet little word, every perfect little gift, every make out picnic under the stars, did it all mean *nothing* to him?
Apparently no. There he was, making out with my brother.
Then there were footsteps. Footsteps when there shouldn't have been, footsteps that weren't mine. They were coming from the shadowy area of the alleyway, from all the way in the back. I felt like I was frozen in time itself.
It was a xenomorph.
You may laugh, but I'm not joking. An actual xenomorph wearing what seemed to be a top hat, came out of the shadows.
I'll bet you're laughing now.
I was too, until it roared at me, the top hat falling from it's silly head and hitting the ground without a sound. It rushed at me and that was when I turned and ran.
It chased me down the street for about a block or so until it stopped, roaring or whatever the sound it was making was. I never really saw Alien, I just know what xenomorphs are.
This sound was different though. It was like... a call. That's when more of them came out the shadows, some from under cars, some came bursting out of buildings and some from thin air.
That is when I screamed and unfroze time.
Now that time had come back to normal, the xenomorphs were gone. I still felt paranoid and scared but they were definitely gone.
After that day, I vowed never to use my powers longer than twenty seconds.
But for now... now, I had a boyfriend to talk to. Or should I say, my *ex* boyfriend. |
Needless to say yes the monster/serial killer can indeed move during the frozen time as well. | [WP] You can freeze time but whenever you do a Horror Flick monster/serial killer appears and tries to kill you. | I placed my bag of groceries on the counter and returned the cashier's smile. Nice, clean-looking guy; I hadn't seen him around before.
"You new here?" I said.
He chuckled as he passed my items under the scanner. "Guess you're a regular, huh." An eyebrow arched, he held up a bundle of leeks in one hand, and a fat cabbage in another. "There seems to be a mistake here. I don't see any meat."
I snorted and placed a wad of notes on the counter. "Guilty. I try to eat healthy."
"No problem." He popped the cash register open and counted the change. "There's a new pizza joint that opened up nearby. All vegetarian. You should go check it out."
I tipped my cap at him as I grabbed the bag. However, a small bottle of olive oil perched precariously on the top of the pile rolled out and fell toward the floor.
Its descent seemed to stretch for an eternity ... until it stopped in mid-air, barely an inch from the floor.
I stooped to snatch it back. As I straightened, noise and movement returned to my surroundings, including the cashier's gasp of surprise.
"Wow, your reflexes ..." he said.
I grinned at him before leaving, trying not to think of the dark shadow that had briefly appeared behind me in the display window's reflection.
***
"I'm home, dad," I said as I entered our flat. Kicking the door close behind me, I went to our kitchen to put my shopping away. After I'd set a pot of rice to boil, I took a thermos flask of hot water to the single bedroom, where my father dozed.
As always, the sight of him made me bite my lip and threaten to unleash a flood of tears. Dad wheezed gently into his pillow through his withered lips. His arms and legs were like twigs, wasted away from his illness. I made my way to him quietly, and placed my hand on the leathery, sallow skin of his forehead. He didn't stir.
I refilled the glass by his bedside and sat down to watch. Despite his rattling breaths, he looked quite peaceful, really. A stray breeze from outside the window caressed the wisps of hair remaining on his forehead. I could still remember when they were a glossy black.
After a while, I went back to the kitchen to began cutting up vegetables for dinner. Dad hated porridge, but anything else simply took up too much of his strength to chew. Bitterness welled up in me as I thought back to when Dad used to flip burgers out on our yard in the summer, laughing as he chugged a beer with Mr. Frost from next door.
"Sam?" Dad's voice came croakily from his room.
"I'm cooking, be with you in a sec."
"Sam, where are you?"
"In the kitchen, Dad."
Hearing the shuffling of his feet on the floor, I spun around, eyes wide. "Dad, you can't be up!"
He tried to give me a shaky thumbs up, but at that moment, one of his feet slipped out from under him. I watched, horrified, as his head descended toward the corner of our coffee table.
Time stopped.
I took one step toward him, and the creature appeared.
Covered in a coat of shaggy fur, the wolf-like stood almost six feet tall on its hind legs. Slobber dripped from its distinctly canine muzzle. Snarling, it dropped into a crouch, regarding me with hate-filled eyes. Evidently it still remembered the last I had narrowly escaped from it in an incident involving two nuns and a cinder block.
"Not now, please," I said, gripping the knife like a dagger.
The creature leaped; I narrowly escaped a scalping by dodging. The knife flashed and drew blood across one of its limbs. Its yelp turned into a full-chested roar as it spun around and swiped at my face.
I stepped back, slashing wildly to keep it at bay, but the creature wasn't impressed. It blurred into a charge, howling, that slammed me into the ground.
Without thought, I shoved my knife between its maws to keep them from closing over my neck. Despite the mortal danger, I had eyes only for my father. His expression was still locked into one of shock. His gaze stared directly into mine, inanimate; yet looked to me as if he was begging for help.
Five feet away, yet a chasm wider than a mountain.
The wolf thing bore my arms down.
I felt the sting of teeth on my skin.
So I did the only thing I could do. I closed my eyes, flushing a flood of tears.
The pressure vanished from my chest, at the same time that I heard a crack of impact.
***
*Thanks for reading! Check out my [sub](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more stories!* | "Tell me krueger, how many seconds can you move in my world of stopped time?"
As the knives slowed to a halt in the aor infront of him, freddy looked as if he had accepted his fate. His target counted down to the end of the stopped time,
5
"I hope you can see this, all the better to teach you fear", he remembered hearing as he dirst discovered the power of his prey's ability.
4
A twitch came from his gloved right hand and the mark turned white, "impossible" he cried.
3
He couldn't see him anymore, he never even saw him leave. Panic took over as his eyes darted to and fro, searching until they saw it come down on him.
2
Now. Now was the time. His hands shot up to try and absorb the blow, but the crushing weight and force proved too much, and the machine crashed into the ground below.
1, "Time resumes".
He stood, watching the burning remains of his newest challenger, truly his was the power that would conquer the world. He laughed. Yet, he never heard it.
"There was one reason why you lost chum, just one."
And he realized how doomed he was with the sound of knives scraping against eachother.
"You pissed me off...
"
|
Needless to say yes the monster/serial killer can indeed move during the frozen time as well. | [WP] You can freeze time but whenever you do a Horror Flick monster/serial killer appears and tries to kill you. | "And.... freeze!" I froze time, causing all motion around me to stop.
Super scary ambient background music began to play, slowly increasing in sound and tempo.
I grabbed my camera, walked into the scary house set, turned the camera on, and began to wait.
The music continued to increase in sound, eventually becoming so loud that I knew something *had* to happen.
A four foot tall dude with a dollar store mask and a knife stepped out of the shadows. He had pretty bad posture, so he looked three feet to me.
The knife was stained, it's red, viscous liquid staining the wooden floor.
"Wait," I said, as I paused my recording. "Is that *ketchup?" I asked, pointing to the knife.
The killer froze and sheepishly hid the knife behind his back. As he did so a small object fell out of his pockets, dramatically landing on the stained floor.
It was a McDonalds french fry.
I sighed, disappointed. Didn't he know how unhealthy those were? It was a miracle he stayed in such good shape. I resumed the recording.
"Please!" I screamed out, adding as much desperation to my voice as I could. I started to sob, falling backwards on to the floor, tears staining my vision.
"My family..." I stuttered out.
"My daughter..."
The murderer froze, giving me an extremely confused look. He stumbled over to me as I continued to give horrified screams, my high-res camera capturing each moment of it. As he got upon me, he raised his hand, the ketchup-that-kinda-looks-like-blood falling on to my face...
And he opened the pantry.
*Damn it!* I thought. *Not another one.* I gave a disappointed sigh, and ended the recording.
The killer of healthy diets began to search the pantry. He did so calmly, at first, but then his hands began to more frantically and erratically as he searched for something he couldn't find. He grew increasingly livid. Finally, he froze, turning towards me. His words came out slurred.
"You. Have. No. Twinkie?" Rage consumed his voice.
I laughed nervously, confirming that I didn't. This had never happened before.
He looked at me, raising his knife.
Murder was in his eyes.
***
[r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)! | "Tell me krueger, how many seconds can you move in my world of stopped time?"
As the knives slowed to a halt in the aor infront of him, freddy looked as if he had accepted his fate. His target counted down to the end of the stopped time,
5
"I hope you can see this, all the better to teach you fear", he remembered hearing as he dirst discovered the power of his prey's ability.
4
A twitch came from his gloved right hand and the mark turned white, "impossible" he cried.
3
He couldn't see him anymore, he never even saw him leave. Panic took over as his eyes darted to and fro, searching until they saw it come down on him.
2
Now. Now was the time. His hands shot up to try and absorb the blow, but the crushing weight and force proved too much, and the machine crashed into the ground below.
1, "Time resumes".
He stood, watching the burning remains of his newest challenger, truly his was the power that would conquer the world. He laughed. Yet, he never heard it.
"There was one reason why you lost chum, just one."
And he realized how doomed he was with the sound of knives scraping against eachother.
"You pissed me off...
"
|
Needless to say yes the monster/serial killer can indeed move during the frozen time as well. | [WP] You can freeze time but whenever you do a Horror Flick monster/serial killer appears and tries to kill you. | "And.... freeze!" I froze time, causing all motion around me to stop.
Super scary ambient background music began to play, slowly increasing in sound and tempo.
I grabbed my camera, walked into the scary house set, turned the camera on, and began to wait.
The music continued to increase in sound, eventually becoming so loud that I knew something *had* to happen.
A four foot tall dude with a dollar store mask and a knife stepped out of the shadows. He had pretty bad posture, so he looked three feet to me.
The knife was stained, it's red, viscous liquid staining the wooden floor.
"Wait," I said, as I paused my recording. "Is that *ketchup?" I asked, pointing to the knife.
The killer froze and sheepishly hid the knife behind his back. As he did so a small object fell out of his pockets, dramatically landing on the stained floor.
It was a McDonalds french fry.
I sighed, disappointed. Didn't he know how unhealthy those were? It was a miracle he stayed in such good shape. I resumed the recording.
"Please!" I screamed out, adding as much desperation to my voice as I could. I started to sob, falling backwards on to the floor, tears staining my vision.
"My family..." I stuttered out.
"My daughter..."
The murderer froze, giving me an extremely confused look. He stumbled over to me as I continued to give horrified screams, my high-res camera capturing each moment of it. As he got upon me, he raised his hand, the ketchup-that-kinda-looks-like-blood falling on to my face...
And he opened the pantry.
*Damn it!* I thought. *Not another one.* I gave a disappointed sigh, and ended the recording.
The killer of healthy diets began to search the pantry. He did so calmly, at first, but then his hands began to more frantically and erratically as he searched for something he couldn't find. He grew increasingly livid. Finally, he froze, turning towards me. His words came out slurred.
"You. Have. No. Twinkie?" Rage consumed his voice.
I laughed nervously, confirming that I didn't. This had never happened before.
He looked at me, raising his knife.
Murder was in his eyes.
***
[r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)! | I placed my bag of groceries on the counter and returned the cashier's smile. Nice, clean-looking guy; I hadn't seen him around before.
"You new here?" I said.
He chuckled as he passed my items under the scanner. "Guess you're a regular, huh." An eyebrow arched, he held up a bundle of leeks in one hand, and a fat cabbage in another. "There seems to be a mistake here. I don't see any meat."
I snorted and placed a wad of notes on the counter. "Guilty. I try to eat healthy."
"No problem." He popped the cash register open and counted the change. "There's a new pizza joint that opened up nearby. All vegetarian. You should go check it out."
I tipped my cap at him as I grabbed the bag. However, a small bottle of olive oil perched precariously on the top of the pile rolled out and fell toward the floor.
Its descent seemed to stretch for an eternity ... until it stopped in mid-air, barely an inch from the floor.
I stooped to snatch it back. As I straightened, noise and movement returned to my surroundings, including the cashier's gasp of surprise.
"Wow, your reflexes ..." he said.
I grinned at him before leaving, trying not to think of the dark shadow that had briefly appeared behind me in the display window's reflection.
***
"I'm home, dad," I said as I entered our flat. Kicking the door close behind me, I went to our kitchen to put my shopping away. After I'd set a pot of rice to boil, I took a thermos flask of hot water to the single bedroom, where my father dozed.
As always, the sight of him made me bite my lip and threaten to unleash a flood of tears. Dad wheezed gently into his pillow through his withered lips. His arms and legs were like twigs, wasted away from his illness. I made my way to him quietly, and placed my hand on the leathery, sallow skin of his forehead. He didn't stir.
I refilled the glass by his bedside and sat down to watch. Despite his rattling breaths, he looked quite peaceful, really. A stray breeze from outside the window caressed the wisps of hair remaining on his forehead. I could still remember when they were a glossy black.
After a while, I went back to the kitchen to began cutting up vegetables for dinner. Dad hated porridge, but anything else simply took up too much of his strength to chew. Bitterness welled up in me as I thought back to when Dad used to flip burgers out on our yard in the summer, laughing as he chugged a beer with Mr. Frost from next door.
"Sam?" Dad's voice came croakily from his room.
"I'm cooking, be with you in a sec."
"Sam, where are you?"
"In the kitchen, Dad."
Hearing the shuffling of his feet on the floor, I spun around, eyes wide. "Dad, you can't be up!"
He tried to give me a shaky thumbs up, but at that moment, one of his feet slipped out from under him. I watched, horrified, as his head descended toward the corner of our coffee table.
Time stopped.
I took one step toward him, and the creature appeared.
Covered in a coat of shaggy fur, the wolf-like stood almost six feet tall on its hind legs. Slobber dripped from its distinctly canine muzzle. Snarling, it dropped into a crouch, regarding me with hate-filled eyes. Evidently it still remembered the last I had narrowly escaped from it in an incident involving two nuns and a cinder block.
"Not now, please," I said, gripping the knife like a dagger.
The creature leaped; I narrowly escaped a scalping by dodging. The knife flashed and drew blood across one of its limbs. Its yelp turned into a full-chested roar as it spun around and swiped at my face.
I stepped back, slashing wildly to keep it at bay, but the creature wasn't impressed. It blurred into a charge, howling, that slammed me into the ground.
Without thought, I shoved my knife between its maws to keep them from closing over my neck. Despite the mortal danger, I had eyes only for my father. His expression was still locked into one of shock. His gaze stared directly into mine, inanimate; yet looked to me as if he was begging for help.
Five feet away, yet a chasm wider than a mountain.
The wolf thing bore my arms down.
I felt the sting of teeth on my skin.
So I did the only thing I could do. I closed my eyes, flushing a flood of tears.
The pressure vanished from my chest, at the same time that I heard a crack of impact.
***
*Thanks for reading! Check out my [sub](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more stories!* |
[wp] Potential parents must apply to the government to have their fertility "switched on." Child abuse and neglect are at an all time low. | I watched with a mixture of excitement and terror as the car slowed in front of the house. “Why are government cars always such boring colors?” I thought in spite of myself. I had no idea why my mind figured that was important right now.
The drab green sedan had an intricate logo painted on the side—or was it one of those magnets? No, probably painted, since they used cars like these every day. Another nervous thought. Beneath the logo were the letters “DPI,” short for the Department of Population Improvement. My breath caught as the driver got out of the car and started for the door.
This was it. We had been waiting for months. Our application had been submitted near the end of winter, and now it was almost fall. The weeks before that had been spent making sure everything was in order—doctors appointments, physical fitness screenings, intelligence tests, copies of financial records, contracts from our employers—the list was practically endless.
We knew even then that one way or the other, this moment would come. The DPI always hand-delivered their decisions. By law, they could not rely on the mail or any private delivery company. This was the only way to be sure that both applicants were notified at the same time.
Fortunately, my wife was home too—otherwise, as everyone knew, the DPI rep would simply go back to his office and come back another time, maybe several weeks later. Just another government worker putting in his time. Oh, and the DPI wouldn’t let you make an appointment.
By the time the man reached the door, Alex had heard him and was next to me. Her hand reached for mine, squeezed it quickly, then let it go. The DPI rep gave a half-hearted smile as he reached for his identification badge. “Walters,” he said, “Department of Population Improvement.” Apparently, he didn’t think the car and his demeanor were enough to prove where he was from.
We told him our names and showed him our IDs. Our friends had been through this not all that long ago, and they told us what to expect.
The man nodded and handed me a thin document package—the kind with the little strip you pull to get open. Sealed at the office obviously so nobody who wasn’t authorized could see what was inside. He began mumbling something about Department of Population Improvement regulations, our rights to privacy, and about five disclaimers. Did we understand? We didn’t really, but we said we did anyway. We needed to know what the package held for us.
It surprised me a little when the man didn’t turn to leave. Then I realized that one of thing he had mumbled was a reminder that we had to open the package together with him as a witness. Maybe couples lied to each other about the decision—either way, he wasn’t about to let that happen. Whatever… I pulled open the strip and removed the single piece of paper from inside the package.
I could barely breathe as I started reading:
“This letter is in regard to your application to the Department of Population Improvement. It is my duty to inform you that your application for procreation could not be approved at this….”
I stopped and looked at Alex. Tears were already streaming down her face. I dropped the letter and pulled her close. The man on the porch cleared his throat nervously. “I, uh, need you to sign here, please.” In a daze, I signed his little digital box, and he headed back to his car.
Picking up the letter, I looked back at Alex. “There has to be a mistake, honey,” I tried to be soothing. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”
| "You simply can't argue with the results," the counselor said. "The program has nearly eliminated abuse, neglect, as well as any number of undesirable traits."
"So that's what you're saying," Thomm said. "That my children would be 'undesirable'?"
Sam, sitting next to her husband, was just as unenthusiastic about this news, but she wasn't going to speak up just yet.
The counselor seemed oblivious to the reaction. "No, no, no not individually! Each of you are, on your own, quite stellar in terms of genetics. It's just that, well, 'mixed' offspring are something the current administration frowns on."
"So our kid would be inferior?" Thomm spat.
"No," the counselor said. "But, due to your theoretical child's heritage, he or she *would* be, essentially, a social outcast. You know how much emphasis the country puts on purity. Your child would go through life as a second-class citizen, merely because of their appearance. You can see how it's far more merciful to simply not allow such... dilution."
Thomm stood up, enraged, and Sam stood up next to him, her hand on his arm. "Thank you," she said evenly, "for your time." With that, she pulled Thomm out of the room.
They left the building in silence, Thomm fuming and Sam readying herself.
"The nerve!" Thomm said, once they were safely away, "The fucking nerve of that guy, to say we can't have kids just because we're different-"
"There's another option," Sam said.
Thomm seemed surprised. "There is? Because unless you want to try to get asylum in another country I don't see any. And if we're getting treated like this now, just imagine how we'd get treated as refugees!"
"I know a doctor," Sam said, carefully
Thomm just looked back at her. "I'm guessing you don't mean Dr. Evans?"
Sam shook her head. "No. This doctor doesn't exactly have license to practice medicine. Or an M.D. for that matter. And he definitely doesn't have permission to modify the fertility implants... but for enough cash, he'll do all of those things."
Thomm shook his head. "That's illegal. We'd be arrested at the delivery room the moment they realize they would never have approved the 'mixture', if not earlier."
"Fertility implants fail," Sam said. "And our large cash donation would result in near-untraceable paperwork saying that's what happened."
Thomm was silent for a few moments. "That's not something you discover overnight. You've been planning this."
"I have," Sam said. No reason to hide it, not now. "I was willing to give the official route a chance, but we knew even when we got married that people would look down on our kids. It's only gotten worse since."
Thomm was still for a while. "You're really willing to do that?" He said finally, "Back-alley surgery for just a chance to have a kid, a kid who'll likely grow up just as much of an outcast as that damn counselor said?"
"Are you?" Sam asked.
"Yes." Thomm said.
"Okay," Sam said, "let's go see the doctor."
| |
[WP] The self help group you started has turned into a cult. | All I had wanted were erections again and instead, I had gotten a global socio-economic superpower shadow organization. Really, I’d like to blame Viagra for this one. Them and their god damn claims that anyone could get those four hour erections. I took a fistful and of their cure-all pills, bought a subscription to Playboy, and barely got a half-chub. That’s when I reached out to the internet (because I wasn’t dumb enough to trust a white-cloaked, whiny science bitch) and organized the first meeting of the Free Willy’s.
My Facebook group had claimed an attendance of ten people. I got three hundred. And standing there on my apartment patio, looking down on three hundred pairs of teary and desperate eyes, how could I tell them I had no idea how people got glorious erections anymore? So, I told them the first thing that came to mind.
“My fellow Free Willy’s! I have seen the truth and it wasn’t sold to me by some corporate pig, nor some *educated* science bitch. The truth is through Order of… uh… the God of all things hard and straight, though slightly curved for some of us!”
It was bad. But public speaking had never been my forte. Imagine my surprise when three hundred people exploded into applause. Some threw up hats like they had just graduated dong college. I couldn’t believe it.
Now, I know that I shouldn’t have kept going, but nobody had ever cheered for anything I ever said before. Sure they’ve jeered. Some cheered when I stopped talking before. But never did a crowd want me to *keep* talking. I had to milk it for all it was worth.
“The Free Willy’s are dedicated to pleasing our Lord of all things hard and straight, though slightly curved for some of us! He wishes that we expand and teach others of his power. Only then, will he grant us some of it.”
“So you promise I can get an erection again?” a voice shouted out from the crowd.
I nodded. “Our Lord is here for the most pitiful of us. Even you my friend. Even you.”
---
The second meeting boasted a thousand members. There were even some women in that one. At least, I thought they were women.
The third meeting was when we had started getting our high profile candidates. These were men of power who could truly change the world. But they were also men of action. They wanted their erections and they wanted them now. It wasn’t enough to keep expanding, we had to do more. So I started our first Initiative—Project Schlong.
After all, it was the corporate pharmaceutical pigs that had put us in this position. It was the smug, stethoscope-wearing science bitches that had shown us the promise land with no way of getting there. And so we slowly took over the healthcare system and then the top pharmaceutical companies and even that wasn’t enough.
Eventually, the Free Willy’s had seats at Congress, the House of Representatives, even a Supreme Court Justice. All this, without a single erection.
---
“High Dong Commander,” Second-level Initiative Marcus said and kneeled.
“How goes the corporate raid?” I asked.
“We almost have controlling stock in Disney between our members. Soon, we will able to spread our propaganda through animated talking bunnies.”
“Good. Good. The Lord of all things hard and straight, but sometimes curved for some of us will be quite proud. Perhaps he may even personally grant you that which all men seek.”
Marcus’s eyes went wide. His knees trembled as he pushed himself back up. “Sir, I can feel His power. I think it’s happening!”
My own eyes went wide. “No way,” I blurted. “Show me!” And then I clamped my mouth shut, realizing how idiotic I sounded.
To my surprise, he pulled his pants down.
There it was. That which all men sought. I couldn’t keep my eyes off it. I even salivated a little and slowly, I felt the Lord’s power within myself. Never before had I felt His power so strongly inside me.
And that’s when I realized that I didn’t have erectile issues, I was just gay.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 5+ stories weekly and ~200 stories already written! | Initially, I had only the sincere hope that I could help someone. It started simply; I would freely give to any whom asked, expecting nothing in return, a hit of LSD or a shot of ketamine. It was my intent to awaken these people—mostly heroin addicts—to the intricacies of our reality. But the prolonged highs, which were best measured in days, slowly escaped my grasp, my sphere of influence, my carefully constructed extension of my persona. My therapy group was no longer led by me, but by a single abstraction that I, after ingesting 2000 ug of LSD, had created: "The principal feature of enlightenment is self-governance."
Of course, none of us, myself obviously included, knew what this had meant; this abstraction was merely words strung together in a seemingly coherent manner, meant only to maintain the appearance of meaning. And so we continued to sit in a circle, in a candle-lit room of a vacant house I'd begun squatting in some several months earlier, myself distributing the enlightenment—the drugs and the words—and my patients graciously absorbing, like sponges or towels, the pure water of my knowledge.
It was a summer month when I realized that I had developed a set of arbitrary platitudes—fences aren't real, all that matters is taco meat and Mountain Dew boxes, your mother is not your mother, etc—which were more important to my sponges than I was; and though I was initially flattered—it had occurred to me that I was not just my body but my mind as well, and my mind was indeed this set platitudes, principles, and abstractions—I soon realized that they had absorbed all they could. The implacable heat of a sun of intellectual limitations beat down on my sponges, and I soon realized that not a trace of my initial teachings were to be found in their dry little minds.
I returned the house one day, after picking up more horse tranquilizer, to discover that a fence had been erected, quickly and shoddily around its perimeter; the taco meat was gone, removed from the coolers; the Mountain Dew boxes had been piled in the center of our meditation room, burned to flaky ashes; and each of my sponges had tattooed with ink pens portraits, which were reminiscent of a child's scrawlings, of their mothers on their foreheads. I was shocked.
This was when they began sacrificing children. The sponges would submerge them in giant vats of boiling water, heated over burning boxes of Mountain Dew and piles of ground beef. They danced in circles, and all of my cries to stop and listen to me went in vain as their chanting grew louder and their dancing more frenzied. When a demon—this hulking monstrosity that I can only describe in relation to other words, like horrifying or anti-divine—emerged from the floor, with a torrent of muddy water, and consumed them all, I tasted not a morsel of surprise or remorse; I simply accepted that self-governance, when not governed by myself, was destined to fail. And so, several hours later, after the LSD, ketamine, and PCP wore off, I walked from the house, down the sidewalk, to the local University, where I attended political science courses. And after achieving a bachelor's degree, through several years of eating nothing but Taco Bell, drinking nothing but Baja Blast, I got a J.D. too. Then I worked for several years at a firm, building contacts, schmoozing with my mother's friends and colleagues, before finally becoming a senator. I promptly drafted stronger drug laws. It was the only rational solution I could distill. | |
[WP] The self help group you started has turned into a cult. | Nervously I looked around the hall. At the hundreds of candles bathing the setting in an ominous dance of light and dark, at Simon, standing to my right, wearing one of the intricately ornamented golden robes he brought with him the last meeting. One for me, one for him. Down I looked at the new chair I was sitting on. It was even more ostentatious than the one before, calling it a chair would probably have been an insult to it. It was a throne. I gulped.
Lastly I looked up, past the altar at rows upon rows of pews. Every last seat had been taken, in the back I could even make out a few people standing. They all were waiting keenly, they all looked at us in awe, or rather, I noticed they were looking at Simon.
Nevertheless I once again decided to let him lead the ceremony. I stood up, looked at him and nodded.
"Brethren!" Simon intoned. His deep, soothing voice echoing in the great hall, filling every cubic millimeter of it. He had only spoken one word and even I couldn't help but feel slightly energized.
"Today we gather again, to seek salvation, to beg for absolution. For we are sinners, lost in the dark"
"For we are sinners, lost in the dark" echoed I and hundreds of voices in the hall.
"For we are weak, and need guidance!"
"For we are weak, and need guidance!", I murmured, joining the choir absentmindedly.
"But brothers and sisters today is not like any other day! *Today is a most fateful day*!"
Puzzled, I glanced up at Simon. This was different from the usual procedure and I couldn't remember him informing me about any matters of importance. I decided to wait an see.
"It is with great sadness that I have come to hear troubling tales about one in our very midst." A stir in the crowd, here and there a few were murmuring among each other.
"It is with broken heart that I have *seen evidence* of this doomed soul, criticizing our cause, forgoing our teachings...even contemplating of **turning his back on our sacred order.**"
This time there was unrest in the crowd. A few people stood up, fists raised. "Traitor!" they screamed, "tell us the name!"
"This is getting out of hand", I thought. "time to intervene."
I stood up. For the first time the attention turned to me. It took a while for the crowd to quiet down, when all was silent I spoke.
"You raise strong allegations brother Simon. But let us not turn to violence. Let us also not forget why we are here. For we all are sinners lost in the dark"
"For we all are sinners, lost in the dark" echoed a few.
"Tell us then name of this forsaken individual, so that we may bring him back into our fold."
I looked over at Simon. Light and shadows from the candles on the altar were flickering across his face, almost as if they were fighting each other.
For a second all was silent, then he spoke in the enchanting voice of his.
"It is true. We all are sinners, lost in the dark.. and that is why we can't let the *weak* guide us! The person of whom I spoke..**was you**."
My eyes widened, my jaw dropped. Before I knew what was happening, I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head striking me down to the ground.
The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was Simon. He was standing over me, his expression hidden by the shadows.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
*^^Comments ^^and ^^criticism ^^very ^^much ^^appreciated. ^^If ^^you ^^liked ^^this ^^feel ^^free ^^to ^^check ^^out ^^r/MyWPStories ^^where ^^I ^^archive ^^all ^^of ^^my ^^stories ^^from ^^this ^^subreddit. ^^Thanks.* | Initially, I had only the sincere hope that I could help someone. It started simply; I would freely give to any whom asked, expecting nothing in return, a hit of LSD or a shot of ketamine. It was my intent to awaken these people—mostly heroin addicts—to the intricacies of our reality. But the prolonged highs, which were best measured in days, slowly escaped my grasp, my sphere of influence, my carefully constructed extension of my persona. My therapy group was no longer led by me, but by a single abstraction that I, after ingesting 2000 ug of LSD, had created: "The principal feature of enlightenment is self-governance."
Of course, none of us, myself obviously included, knew what this had meant; this abstraction was merely words strung together in a seemingly coherent manner, meant only to maintain the appearance of meaning. And so we continued to sit in a circle, in a candle-lit room of a vacant house I'd begun squatting in some several months earlier, myself distributing the enlightenment—the drugs and the words—and my patients graciously absorbing, like sponges or towels, the pure water of my knowledge.
It was a summer month when I realized that I had developed a set of arbitrary platitudes—fences aren't real, all that matters is taco meat and Mountain Dew boxes, your mother is not your mother, etc—which were more important to my sponges than I was; and though I was initially flattered—it had occurred to me that I was not just my body but my mind as well, and my mind was indeed this set platitudes, principles, and abstractions—I soon realized that they had absorbed all they could. The implacable heat of a sun of intellectual limitations beat down on my sponges, and I soon realized that not a trace of my initial teachings were to be found in their dry little minds.
I returned the house one day, after picking up more horse tranquilizer, to discover that a fence had been erected, quickly and shoddily around its perimeter; the taco meat was gone, removed from the coolers; the Mountain Dew boxes had been piled in the center of our meditation room, burned to flaky ashes; and each of my sponges had tattooed with ink pens portraits, which were reminiscent of a child's scrawlings, of their mothers on their foreheads. I was shocked.
This was when they began sacrificing children. The sponges would submerge them in giant vats of boiling water, heated over burning boxes of Mountain Dew and piles of ground beef. They danced in circles, and all of my cries to stop and listen to me went in vain as their chanting grew louder and their dancing more frenzied. When a demon—this hulking monstrosity that I can only describe in relation to other words, like horrifying or anti-divine—emerged from the floor, with a torrent of muddy water, and consumed them all, I tasted not a morsel of surprise or remorse; I simply accepted that self-governance, when not governed by myself, was destined to fail. And so, several hours later, after the LSD, ketamine, and PCP wore off, I walked from the house, down the sidewalk, to the local University, where I attended political science courses. And after achieving a bachelor's degree, through several years of eating nothing but Taco Bell, drinking nothing but Baja Blast, I got a J.D. too. Then I worked for several years at a firm, building contacts, schmoozing with my mother's friends and colleagues, before finally becoming a senator. I promptly drafted stronger drug laws. It was the only rational solution I could distill. | |
[WP]You wake up one day and notice that you can see stats and levels over people's heads. Most are in the 20s with a few people as high as 80. As you're watching people you notice someone with a skull where their level should be staring at you. | I had noticed the man about half an hour ago - and he's onto me as well.
I never quite knew what the numbers meant, but I just assumed that they were ranks, by my gamer's instinct. I've seen most people hover at 20, with children commonly in the 10s and older, more experienced adults somewhere 30-40. It didn't seem to be tied to age, either - last year, a kid from China somewhere was hailed as a child genius or something, and I watch the broadcast live, just so I could confirm the theory. Sure enough, he was ranked in the 60s.
Many war veterans, like my neighbour who fought in the Middle East, had higher numbers - he had 56. My girlfriend was in her 30s, and her parents - even my parents - were somewhere around 40. Scientists and renowned figures usually have a number somewhere around mine, to my amusement. I never saw my number, however.
But not a skull. Never anything but numbers, and today a skull.
I moved into a subway station. Swiping my card on the scanner, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the man had disappeared. I breathed a sigh of relief, only to remember that, most of the times, a relieved breath meant death. I kept on my toes.
The ride to work was uneventful.
It was only until I was right outside my office building that the man emerged, this time directly in front of me. I stopped, and so did he. His trench coat flapped slightly in the wind, and I found myself internally laughing at the staggering similarity between him and stereotypical anime villains.
He nodded at me. "Hello." His voice was... normal. I'd expected a guy like this to be at least some sort of... bad-guy voice, y'know? This was actually more unsettling than I'd thought.
"What do you want, man?" I demanded, cutting to the chase. If he wanted to rob me or kill me, might as well be ready and semi-prepared for it. Instead, he shook his head.
"Such manners. I'm not here to rob you, relax."
I didn't.
He sighed. "Alright, alright, fine. I admit it. I'm here to kill you. But seriously, you should've expected at least something coming for ya..."
His voice trailed off as my expression grew more and more confused. "What?" He asked. "You thought having a bounty on you is a good thing?"
"Bounty? What in the actual fuck?"
"You - huh. Ah, I see. Click your tongue three times and snap your fingers three times, then look up."
I frowned at him.
"Fuck, man, chill. Just do it."
Unwittingly, I did it. And gasped.
I had a skull over my head. | "So......it's to be you then...........fine, I awoke prepared for this day. The day I would meet the person who would either kill me, or be killed by me." "Let fly then, come let us escort one another into whatever is next" As my hand touches the grip of my .357 magnum, loaded for bear, a seering pain tears it's way across my abdomen. Followed, in the same second it seems, by another, then another. I fall back wards staring up into the Eclipse, " This, this is a death worth dying, well met gunslinger, well met." My opponent looms over me finally speaking, "Next time, don't talk, shoot. This isn't a debate, this is fight, words have no place here until it's over." I feel the hot barrel of his gun against my head. Then, I awake with a start in my bed " 4 lives remaining" chimes the clock. I ready myself, loading my gun, stoning my knife. " Well said gunslinger" I muse, "I will remember that......." | |
[WP]You wake up one day and notice that you can see stats and levels over people's heads. Most are in the 20s with a few people as high as 80. As you're watching people you notice someone with a skull where their level should be staring at you. | "Mommy, that man is looking at me really funny..."
The girl's mother turned and glared at me. "Hey! What's you're problem?"
Trying to think fast I sputtered "I'm... sorry, she.. uh... you're daughter reminds me of a cousin of mine that died in a car wreck when I was a kid. It's just... sorry I didn't mean to scare your kid."
Her face softened a little. "Well... I'm sorry for your loss." She took her daughters hand and started walking. "Come one sweetie, we've got to go now." and they quickly hurried away.
I started moving the other direction and tried not to look back, but I couldn't help myself. The skull was still floating over the girls head as she and her mom turned down another street.
Turning forward, I saw numbers upon numbers floating over the heads of random people passing by. Some of the numbers had letters or symbols next to them, which made no sense, not that any of it did.
Since I'd woken up that morning, the world seemed to have become harder to make sense of. Maybe there was no sense to be made, maybe I was going mad.
Sitting on a bench, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then I pulled out my phone and called in sick to work. I told my boss that I thought maybe I'd gotten food poisoning and would probably be okay tomorrow, but that I'd call and let him know if it was still a problem.
Then I walked over to the nearest bus stop and started making my way home. I kept my eyes closed as much as I could, so I wouldn't have to see those freaky numbers.
Once I got home, I made my way to my bed, and collapsed into tears and cried until I fell into a turbulent slumber.
Hours later, I woke up feeling thirstier than I ever had before or since. After my seventh glass of water, I started to feel hungry. The fridge was mostly empty because I hadn't bought groceries for the month yet. So I decided to walk down to the local convenient store dreading what I'd see along the way.
To my surprise and great relief, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. People didn't have any strange numbers floating over their heads, or anything else that only a crazy man would see.
I got home, ate some late lunch/early dinner and felt tired again, so I set my alarm for the morning and went back to sleep.
Over the coming years, I'd occasionally think back to that weird morning and wonder what the hell had happened. In the first few months I worried that I might have another hallucination like that, that it had been the start of some deterioration of my mind or something.
When nothing like that happened again and there were no answers to be found on the internet, I slowly adjusted to the idea that it was just a weird, one time glitch in my brain. That idea came crashing down last week when I was watching the evening news.
The top story was about a med school student who had gone crazy and poisoned a bunch of elderly people at a nursing home. When her picture was shown, she looked incredibly familiar. I went online and searched for more information about her. One of the news articles focused on her quiet and unremarkable childhood, and included a photo of her winning a spelling bee in middle school.
When I saw that photo, my blood ran cold. My jaw fell open. My palms started sweating.
Now I knew why she looked so familiar, because I seen her eight years ago standing next to her mom. | "So......it's to be you then...........fine, I awoke prepared for this day. The day I would meet the person who would either kill me, or be killed by me." "Let fly then, come let us escort one another into whatever is next" As my hand touches the grip of my .357 magnum, loaded for bear, a seering pain tears it's way across my abdomen. Followed, in the same second it seems, by another, then another. I fall back wards staring up into the Eclipse, " This, this is a death worth dying, well met gunslinger, well met." My opponent looms over me finally speaking, "Next time, don't talk, shoot. This isn't a debate, this is fight, words have no place here until it's over." I feel the hot barrel of his gun against my head. Then, I awake with a start in my bed " 4 lives remaining" chimes the clock. I ready myself, loading my gun, stoning my knife. " Well said gunslinger" I muse, "I will remember that......." | |
[WP]You wake up one day and notice that you can see stats and levels over people's heads. Most are in the 20s with a few people as high as 80. As you're watching people you notice someone with a skull where their level should be staring at you. | "Mommy, that man is looking at me really funny..."
The girl's mother turned and glared at me. "Hey! What's you're problem?"
Trying to think fast I sputtered "I'm... sorry, she.. uh... you're daughter reminds me of a cousin of mine that died in a car wreck when I was a kid. It's just... sorry I didn't mean to scare your kid."
Her face softened a little. "Well... I'm sorry for your loss." She took her daughters hand and started walking. "Come one sweetie, we've got to go now." and they quickly hurried away.
I started moving the other direction and tried not to look back, but I couldn't help myself. The skull was still floating over the girls head as she and her mom turned down another street.
Turning forward, I saw numbers upon numbers floating over the heads of random people passing by. Some of the numbers had letters or symbols next to them, which made no sense, not that any of it did.
Since I'd woken up that morning, the world seemed to have become harder to make sense of. Maybe there was no sense to be made, maybe I was going mad.
Sitting on a bench, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then I pulled out my phone and called in sick to work. I told my boss that I thought maybe I'd gotten food poisoning and would probably be okay tomorrow, but that I'd call and let him know if it was still a problem.
Then I walked over to the nearest bus stop and started making my way home. I kept my eyes closed as much as I could, so I wouldn't have to see those freaky numbers.
Once I got home, I made my way to my bed, and collapsed into tears and cried until I fell into a turbulent slumber.
Hours later, I woke up feeling thirstier than I ever had before or since. After my seventh glass of water, I started to feel hungry. The fridge was mostly empty because I hadn't bought groceries for the month yet. So I decided to walk down to the local convenient store dreading what I'd see along the way.
To my surprise and great relief, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. People didn't have any strange numbers floating over their heads, or anything else that only a crazy man would see.
I got home, ate some late lunch/early dinner and felt tired again, so I set my alarm for the morning and went back to sleep.
Over the coming years, I'd occasionally think back to that weird morning and wonder what the hell had happened. In the first few months I worried that I might have another hallucination like that, that it had been the start of some deterioration of my mind or something.
When nothing like that happened again and there were no answers to be found on the internet, I slowly adjusted to the idea that it was just a weird, one time glitch in my brain. That idea came crashing down last week when I was watching the evening news.
The top story was about a med school student who had gone crazy and poisoned a bunch of elderly people at a nursing home. When her picture was shown, she looked incredibly familiar. I went online and searched for more information about her. One of the news articles focused on her quiet and unremarkable childhood, and included a photo of her winning a spelling bee in middle school.
When I saw that photo, my blood ran cold. My jaw fell open. My palms started sweating.
Now I knew why she looked so familiar, because I seen her eight years ago standing next to her mom. | I tried to open my eyes, but I was unsuccessful. Then as if my slight struggle had activated something, I heard a slight whirring and clicking as if a computer was booting up near my head. A few seconds later my vision suddenly turned on. Instead of my bedroom I saw boot data followed by a login screen. From somewhere in the room I heard a voice, male, German accent.
"welcome back, we weren't sure if you were going to wake up. I'm sure you have questions?" he said.
I took a moment to think before I responded. "first off, will I be able to see normally again?" I inquired blearily
"ah yes" he stated, "if you reach out in front of you there is a keyboard, please create a login ID and you will be able to see shortly after"
I did as he said and created a login, the letters appearing directly on my sight. After a short loading screen and a welcome message my vision cleared and I looked around. Instead of normal vision it looked like HUD from a FPS or MMO. I could look at something and a little blurb would pop up that would tell me about that thing.
"This is not normal vision" I said dumbly.
"of course not, you lost your real... Wait do you remember where you are?" He asked
"when I woke up, I expected to be in bed at home..."
"ahhhh minor short term amnesia, nothing to worry about. You are the first person to receive our brand new Ocular Replacement Enhanced Sight surgery after losing your sight in an accident a week ago. You have the first set of fully tested and approved ORES sensors." he explained." Look at me and tell me what you see"
I followed his direction and noticed a curious white number above his head, the number was 10. I told him as much.
He told me that the number was a level of sorts, the ORES would assign numbers to everyone around me based on their profession, physical ability, and training. A 1 would typically be a child of 5 years or less, a ten such as himself would indicate some level of success in the world but the number could be as high as 50.
After a short period of testing, tweaking and tuning, I was free to go. I noticed a bar at the bottom of my peripheral vision. The bar was filling slowly and currently said 7. As I got used to my ORES and got back into normal life it eventually settled down at 8.5 or so. It was interesting seeing the numbers different people had, athletes tended towards late teens and early twenties. Some rich, athletic businesses lady I saw on the TV was a 32.
A few weeks later, I saw someone without a number. He was walking purposefully with cat-like grace and and an aura danger, causing busy sidewalks to unconsciously clear in front of him. I was curious about his lack of number, so I followed him. I hadn't followed more than 20 ft before he disappeared into an unmarked doorway. More than a little nervous I followed and knocked on the door. It creaked open at my barest touch.
"hello?" I asked, peeking in the door. Hearing nothing I took a step inside. I was in a short hallway with no other doors and the other end was bricked up. I turned to leave as there was no sign of the numberless man but as I turned around, another numberless person closed the door. There was no doorknob on this side and no other way out. That is when I noticed it, where his number should be, there was a small, red skull, it appeared to be glitching and was hard to see from a distance. This numberless man looked at me with cold calculation. His body was a barely repressed spring, tightly wound and ready to burst into action.
"naughty boy, sneaking after your betters" he said as he pulled out a gun. "good night, sleep tight" he whispered as he squeezed the trigger | |
[WP]You wake up one day and notice that you can see stats and levels over people's heads. Most are in the 20s with a few people as high as 80. As you're watching people you notice someone with a skull where their level should be staring at you. | "Mommy, that man is looking at me really funny..."
The girl's mother turned and glared at me. "Hey! What's you're problem?"
Trying to think fast I sputtered "I'm... sorry, she.. uh... you're daughter reminds me of a cousin of mine that died in a car wreck when I was a kid. It's just... sorry I didn't mean to scare your kid."
Her face softened a little. "Well... I'm sorry for your loss." She took her daughters hand and started walking. "Come one sweetie, we've got to go now." and they quickly hurried away.
I started moving the other direction and tried not to look back, but I couldn't help myself. The skull was still floating over the girls head as she and her mom turned down another street.
Turning forward, I saw numbers upon numbers floating over the heads of random people passing by. Some of the numbers had letters or symbols next to them, which made no sense, not that any of it did.
Since I'd woken up that morning, the world seemed to have become harder to make sense of. Maybe there was no sense to be made, maybe I was going mad.
Sitting on a bench, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then I pulled out my phone and called in sick to work. I told my boss that I thought maybe I'd gotten food poisoning and would probably be okay tomorrow, but that I'd call and let him know if it was still a problem.
Then I walked over to the nearest bus stop and started making my way home. I kept my eyes closed as much as I could, so I wouldn't have to see those freaky numbers.
Once I got home, I made my way to my bed, and collapsed into tears and cried until I fell into a turbulent slumber.
Hours later, I woke up feeling thirstier than I ever had before or since. After my seventh glass of water, I started to feel hungry. The fridge was mostly empty because I hadn't bought groceries for the month yet. So I decided to walk down to the local convenient store dreading what I'd see along the way.
To my surprise and great relief, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. People didn't have any strange numbers floating over their heads, or anything else that only a crazy man would see.
I got home, ate some late lunch/early dinner and felt tired again, so I set my alarm for the morning and went back to sleep.
Over the coming years, I'd occasionally think back to that weird morning and wonder what the hell had happened. In the first few months I worried that I might have another hallucination like that, that it had been the start of some deterioration of my mind or something.
When nothing like that happened again and there were no answers to be found on the internet, I slowly adjusted to the idea that it was just a weird, one time glitch in my brain. That idea came crashing down last week when I was watching the evening news.
The top story was about a med school student who had gone crazy and poisoned a bunch of elderly people at a nursing home. When her picture was shown, she looked incredibly familiar. I went online and searched for more information about her. One of the news articles focused on her quiet and unremarkable childhood, and included a photo of her winning a spelling bee in middle school.
When I saw that photo, my blood ran cold. My jaw fell open. My palms started sweating.
Now I knew why she looked so familiar, because I seen her eight years ago standing next to her mom. | It was after he came back from Afghanistan that he started seeing the numbers. When he first saw them, he tentatively told his psychiatrist, who merely told him it was possibly a side effect of PTSD and the trauma of losing an eye. Six months of meds, therapy sessions, abstaining from video games, and a brand new glass eye later had done nothing except annoyed him. So he kept playing video games.
Most people he had noticed were in the 20s, which he guessed were average. Some high-skilledly people or those in positions of power, such as his therapist, were as low as mid-30s to as high as the high-80s. He found out that his own number was 38 when he looked in the mirror on that faithful day.
He was in a library when he saw his first skull. The woman walked into the library and made her way straight towards him. She was very beautiful, but there was something about her, not just the skull but her body language itself that chilled him to the marrow in his bones. It was like watching a large feline hunting. He tried to ease his way out of the back door but she caught up to him before he even got out of his chair.
"I see that you are taking advantage of this little vacation, Sinclair," she said.
He stared at her, trying to think of something clever to say while his mind short-circuited.
"I'm guessing by that slackjawed look on your face that you have no idea what's going on. Am I right?"
He slowly nodded his head.
She sat down in front of him and placed a book in front of him. "Open it."
Sinclair picked it up tenderly. It was a well-worn copy of The Odyssey. It felt strangely heavier than he remembered. When he opened it, he found a pistol with two loaded magazines tucked next to it.
"Listen lady," Sinclair said. " I don't know who you think I am, but I think you have me confused with someone else." He closed the book and slid it back to her. He scooted his seat back and started to stand up.
"Don't you want to know about the numbers?" she asked. She smirked as Sinclair froze.
"Yes. Yes, I do want to know about the numbers,” he said eased his way back into his chair.” But first I would like for you to very kindly tell me who the fuck you are."
She laughed. "There's the Abraham Sinclair I know. Polite and disrespectful. A woman gives a book with a pistol in it and you try to weasel your way out of the conversation. Then when that doesn't work, you try to intimidate her in an effort to find another way out. Plans like that is how you lost your eye."
He could feel his temper rising but he took a deep breath and let it out. Whoever this woman was, she wasn't someone who doesn't fuck around.
"So you said you knew about the numbers?" Abraham asked.
"Yes. This is not reality. This is a simulation. Like Ready Player One, but actually good. And the numbers all show how skilled each person is, based off of your own judgement and deduction skills."
"Huh," Abraham said, easing back into his chair. "Neat."
"Since you are not losing your mind, then that means we didn't fry your brain and you are actually starting to remember everything.”
Abraham calmly took his glass eye out of his head and held it in his hand. “So Europa was compromised?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“And Ganymede?”
“They were compromised as well but we managed to pull out our assets in time.”
“Last I remembered, I was in Io and I felt a great pain everywhere…” Abraham’s voice trailed off.
“Earth sent a SCYTHE unit to oversee the exfil of Io, due to the number of insurgents. They weren’t about to make it in time to prevent the attack, but they were able to save everyone inside.”
He sighed. The memories were flooding back. They were in a terra-forming platform when it was attacked. Cooke and Gaelin were with him, trying to prepare for an attack when the bomb went off. He remembered being covered in rubble, and men digging them out. They had cut out Cooke’s eyes and tongue and laughed as he drowned in his own blood. They shot Gaelin when he tried to escape. They had just finished cutting out his left eye when the SCYTHE unit came.
“So Earth decided to blame Io on me, huh?” He asked sullenly. “So how long am I in ‘re-training?’”
“In real time? Three days, when your prosthetic comes in. In simulation times?” she shrugged her shoulders. She stood up and started to make her way out of the library.
“Beatrice!” he called out to her. She turned around.
“I didn’t fuck it up. It had to be a leak.”
“I know,’ she said sadly, and with that she walked out the library and into the city streets outside. | |
[WP]You wake up one day and notice that you can see stats and levels over people's heads. Most are in the 20s with a few people as high as 80. As you're watching people you notice someone with a skull where their level should be staring at you. | *Calm down... Deep breaths... Inhale... Exhale... Now focus, let's think. These are obviously levels, definitely like in video games. Based on those around me, the average is around 20, give or take. If people currently have levels, then perhaps they have attributes.*
*That would explain those with higher levels, perhaps working in fields that have boosted their attributes higher. More complex jobs requiring more intelligence, thus granting more experience. Which would mean, jobs have become quests.*
*The main thing I need to think about is whether or not this is something solely affecting me, or if I've been transported into a world where this is normal.*
"Excuse me, ma'am," I reached my hand out to a woman wearing a leather jacket with a complacent look on her face, seemingly waiting for a bus. I glanced upward at the gathering dark clouds, wondering if she had decided not to walk as to avoid getting her jacket wet in case it rains. I had once ruined a leather jacket that way. Mistakes you only make once.
"Do you need something?" Her voice was like that of pink silk. It soothed me to my core, filling me with heat, as if to antagonize the awaiting rain, when I locked eyes with her.
My mind seemed to grind to a halt for no more than just a moment, my mind instantly clearing, as a prompt appeared just inside the corner of my vision. I made a conscious decision to avoid looking directly at it right away, instead taking a moment to fake a stutter to appear embarrassed, so I could steal a moment to glance away from her gaze.
**Mental Debuff: Charmed:** resisted! WILL(48)-(13: Seduce) = 35 = **Chance for resist: 87%** EXP.+ 200
*The Willpower stat doesn't surprise me now that I can see levels, I figured they would come with it too, though it is higher than I expected, but what the fuck? Did she just try to charm me? Wait, it could also mean, I think she's cute, but can resist her advances. Like someone who finds people hitting on them attractive, but doesn't want to accept.*
**Critical Thinking: Gained! Rank 48/100** Evolution of skill available at rank 100
**Seduction Resist: Gained! Rank 2/20** Evolution of skill available at rank 20
*I'm gaining skills just by existing. Okay, if this works just like an RPG, I should also be able to level up if I perform enough actions. Everything so far is a passive skill of some sort, I wonder if I can develop any active skills. Damn it, I shouldn't have started talking to this woman, I have to many things going on at once that I nee-*
My eyes glanced upward on their own as I regained eye contact with her, a habit I've apparently already developed from checking levels this past hour. As they grazed above her head searching for any indication of a number, I choked back a shocked cry as I noticed there was nothing but a skull. Thinking back to the MMO's I used to play, a skull could only mean their level is so high, I'm not even allowed to see it. It's a warning that attempting to fight whatever it is, is a guaranteed gameover.
For me, it means Death.
Her eyes quickly widened when she noticed I was looking above her head. Becoming predatory as she adeptly began to size me up. I had a feeling she knew what I could see, and I had a feeling I wouldn't like her reaction to my newfound ability.
"Most people stare AT the attractive girl they're talking to. What's so interesting about what's above my head?" Her voice no longer held a tone of seduction and femininity that had stirred me earlier. She spoke lower, and purred like someone who had caught a person in a lie.
**Panic!: Gained! Rank 1/1**
Panic!: ON Effects: Charisma: -24 Intelligence: Not affected(Critical Thinking above Rank 30.) Willpower: -15 Strength: +25 Agility: +10 (when fleeing)
*Lovely.*
**Abbreviations will now be used for STATS Player understands**
"I just noticed that it looks like it's raining on the other side of the street and your jacket is leather. You might wanna step inside somewhere or you'll ruin it."
**Charisma Check on ????: Passed!** CHAR(55)+(100:Event-Based)-(24:PANIC!) = 134 = **Chance for success: 100%!** EXP+ 500
**Silver Tongue: Gained! Rank 1/20** Perk only able to be leveled with Perk points, not through Player Use. Evolution available at Rank 20
**Level Up!**
"Oh shit! Thank you so much! I didn't even realize. There's a library right over there if you also need to take shelter. Thanks again!"
**QUEST COMPLETE: Avoid being attacked by the strange woman!** EXP+ 5000
**Level Up!**
**Level Up!**
**Level Up!**
...
*Looks like it won't allow the level up to keep appearing if I go up too fast. Good, that was getting obnoxious. This ability seems to make the world around me function like an RPG mainly, albeit amongst other styles of games mixed in.*
As I turned around to make sure I wasn't getting crept up on by Miss Leather Jacket, I gagged audibly.
**Fear Debuff: Gained!** Effects: WILL: -15 CHAR: -15 STR: -15 AGI: +25(When fleeing) INT: -20 Perception: -40 Accuracy: -20%
**??? 314**
*Oh god. Holy shit. Oh fuck. Okay, okay, calm down. Calm down. It's okay now. She's gone. Let's relax and try to figure out if I can interact with these notifications, or view my skills.*
**Calm Mind: Gained! Rank 70/100** Evolution available at rank 100
*Whoa, that skill is incredibly high. But why? I wonder if I can check something like that. What if there's a building skill that would allow me to create items from source materials without actual assembly? Then I could... wait, no, I'm getting too focused on possibilities instead of working with what I have. First of all, let's see if I have an inventory.*
I wasn't sure how to check if I could do something like have a bottomless bag without having a physical bag, until a message appeared in the same place as always, though this time with an exclamation mark.
**Player must open inventory by imagining an open bag with no bottom.**
Instantaneously a screen appeared in front of me, along with the sudden understanding that anything I hold in my hands, and imagine stuffing inside the bag, will be held inside. No matter the weight, size, or density. My inventory is only affected by a limit to the amount of individual types of items. No one can access this inventory but me. The exceptions being someone with my permission, someone who has an item that allows for inventory peeking and stealing, or it becoming public upon my death.
*This inventory is pretty badass. I'll definitely make sure to make good use of this. Now, I imagine I can do the same thing with my Attributes, or STATS as I saw it get called earlier. Just think about leveling up and applying experience aaaaaaaannnd... Bingo.*
The inventory screen was quickly replaced by a screen containing three columns. One of which, filled my heart with glee.
**Skills/Perks**
**Points: 30**
**Passive**
**Critical Thinking** 48/100
**Seduction Resist** 2/20
**Silver Tongue** 1/20
**Calm Mind** 70/100 (Buffed by Mental Resistance, INT, WILL, and Mental Passive skills)
*That explains the high level for Calm Mind... I wonder how I apply those perk points? Think of the amount and the skill they go into, I suppose. For now, Critical Thinking and Silver tongue seem the most useful despite being a bit lower. I'll use ten on Critical thinking, and ten on Silver Tongue...*
**Critical Thinking Rank raised by 10! (Rank 58/100)**
**Silver Tongue Rank raised by 10! (Rank 11/20)**
*I'm not proud of this... but...*
**Critical Thinking Rank raised by 2! (Rank 60/100)**
**Silver Tongue Rank raised by 9! (Silver Tongue 20/20) Evolution available!**
*Much better. Now, I should probably evolve Silver Tongue. Best to check how this whole process works and exactly what evolution entails.*
After reading the tutorial message, basically, I choose to transform the skill into one of two paths, some skills having more. Silver Tongue in particular has two:
**Devil's Tongue:** You are an incredible liar, you can convince even the most holy of people that doing your bidding, no matter the deed, is the correct path to take. Bonus Experience for persuading characters blessed with Holy to perform non-Holy actions.
**Angel's Voice:** Your words never cease to calm people, allowing you to pacify even the most hostile of creatures and people, so long as they can understand you. You also gain the ability to smite Demons and Undead with words alone. Bonus Experience for pacifying or smiting Demons or Undead.
*Hmmm, I better save this decision for later. There are factors here to consider that I haven't even begun to think about. With that out of the way, I better check out my Attributes.*
**STATS(or Attributes as this dumbass calls it)**
*Oi, what the hell?*
**STAT Points: 45**
STR: 37
Constitution(Abbreviation learned, CON will now be used): 23
AGI: 27
INT: 57
WILL: 48
CHAR: 79 (Buffed by Silver Tongue and INT)
*Based on the Charisma check with ????, these don't cap out at 100 I'm assuming it caps at 999 then, which means that ???? must've had poor mental resistance STAT's if she lost to my charisma check. I wonder what she put her points in? Probably STR and AGI considering she might be some kind of Player Hunter, but she didn't come after me after I pointed out the rain, meaning this isn't someplace where this is common, or she would've jumped me immediately... Probably killing me in an instant... No, can't think about that, it'll only make me panic.*
**Use: PANIC!** ?
*What? No. Turn that off. Having a skill that can debuff myself if I get too scared is awful. I'll need to find a way to disable that for good.*
I'll decide on how to use STAT's later.
Now, for the most incredible tree of all. MAGIC.
**MAGIC**
None, go read a book.
*Oh.*
Wait, I've been looking at everyone around so far. Their levels, analyzing what their jobs could be, even ????. I never once checked my level. I wonder what's above my head?
Stealing a glance up, I only saw one thing.
A Skull. | It was after he came back from Afghanistan that he started seeing the numbers. When he first saw them, he tentatively told his psychiatrist, who merely told him it was possibly a side effect of PTSD and the trauma of losing an eye. Six months of meds, therapy sessions, abstaining from video games, and a brand new glass eye later had done nothing except annoyed him. So he kept playing video games.
Most people he had noticed were in the 20s, which he guessed were average. Some high-skilledly people or those in positions of power, such as his therapist, were as low as mid-30s to as high as the high-80s. He found out that his own number was 38 when he looked in the mirror on that faithful day.
He was in a library when he saw his first skull. The woman walked into the library and made her way straight towards him. She was very beautiful, but there was something about her, not just the skull but her body language itself that chilled him to the marrow in his bones. It was like watching a large feline hunting. He tried to ease his way out of the back door but she caught up to him before he even got out of his chair.
"I see that you are taking advantage of this little vacation, Sinclair," she said.
He stared at her, trying to think of something clever to say while his mind short-circuited.
"I'm guessing by that slackjawed look on your face that you have no idea what's going on. Am I right?"
He slowly nodded his head.
She sat down in front of him and placed a book in front of him. "Open it."
Sinclair picked it up tenderly. It was a well-worn copy of The Odyssey. It felt strangely heavier than he remembered. When he opened it, he found a pistol with two loaded magazines tucked next to it.
"Listen lady," Sinclair said. " I don't know who you think I am, but I think you have me confused with someone else." He closed the book and slid it back to her. He scooted his seat back and started to stand up.
"Don't you want to know about the numbers?" she asked. She smirked as Sinclair froze.
"Yes. Yes, I do want to know about the numbers,” he said eased his way back into his chair.” But first I would like for you to very kindly tell me who the fuck you are."
She laughed. "There's the Abraham Sinclair I know. Polite and disrespectful. A woman gives a book with a pistol in it and you try to weasel your way out of the conversation. Then when that doesn't work, you try to intimidate her in an effort to find another way out. Plans like that is how you lost your eye."
He could feel his temper rising but he took a deep breath and let it out. Whoever this woman was, she wasn't someone who doesn't fuck around.
"So you said you knew about the numbers?" Abraham asked.
"Yes. This is not reality. This is a simulation. Like Ready Player One, but actually good. And the numbers all show how skilled each person is, based off of your own judgement and deduction skills."
"Huh," Abraham said, easing back into his chair. "Neat."
"Since you are not losing your mind, then that means we didn't fry your brain and you are actually starting to remember everything.”
Abraham calmly took his glass eye out of his head and held it in his hand. “So Europa was compromised?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“And Ganymede?”
“They were compromised as well but we managed to pull out our assets in time.”
“Last I remembered, I was in Io and I felt a great pain everywhere…” Abraham’s voice trailed off.
“Earth sent a SCYTHE unit to oversee the exfil of Io, due to the number of insurgents. They weren’t about to make it in time to prevent the attack, but they were able to save everyone inside.”
He sighed. The memories were flooding back. They were in a terra-forming platform when it was attacked. Cooke and Gaelin were with him, trying to prepare for an attack when the bomb went off. He remembered being covered in rubble, and men digging them out. They had cut out Cooke’s eyes and tongue and laughed as he drowned in his own blood. They shot Gaelin when he tried to escape. They had just finished cutting out his left eye when the SCYTHE unit came.
“So Earth decided to blame Io on me, huh?” He asked sullenly. “So how long am I in ‘re-training?’”
“In real time? Three days, when your prosthetic comes in. In simulation times?” she shrugged her shoulders. She stood up and started to make her way out of the library.
“Beatrice!” he called out to her. She turned around.
“I didn’t fuck it up. It had to be a leak.”
“I know,’ she said sadly, and with that she walked out the library and into the city streets outside. | |
[WP]You wake up one day and notice that you can see stats and levels over people's heads. Most are in the 20s with a few people as high as 80. As you're watching people you notice someone with a skull where their level should be staring at you. | *Calm down... Deep breaths... Inhale... Exhale... Now focus, let's think. These are obviously levels, definitely like in video games. Based on those around me, the average is around 20, give or take. If people currently have levels, then perhaps they have attributes.*
*That would explain those with higher levels, perhaps working in fields that have boosted their attributes higher. More complex jobs requiring more intelligence, thus granting more experience. Which would mean, jobs have become quests.*
*The main thing I need to think about is whether or not this is something solely affecting me, or if I've been transported into a world where this is normal.*
"Excuse me, ma'am," I reached my hand out to a woman wearing a leather jacket with a complacent look on her face, seemingly waiting for a bus. I glanced upward at the gathering dark clouds, wondering if she had decided not to walk as to avoid getting her jacket wet in case it rains. I had once ruined a leather jacket that way. Mistakes you only make once.
"Do you need something?" Her voice was like that of pink silk. It soothed me to my core, filling me with heat, as if to antagonize the awaiting rain, when I locked eyes with her.
My mind seemed to grind to a halt for no more than just a moment, my mind instantly clearing, as a prompt appeared just inside the corner of my vision. I made a conscious decision to avoid looking directly at it right away, instead taking a moment to fake a stutter to appear embarrassed, so I could steal a moment to glance away from her gaze.
**Mental Debuff: Charmed:** resisted! WILL(48)-(13: Seduce) = 35 = **Chance for resist: 87%** EXP.+ 200
*The Willpower stat doesn't surprise me now that I can see levels, I figured they would come with it too, though it is higher than I expected, but what the fuck? Did she just try to charm me? Wait, it could also mean, I think she's cute, but can resist her advances. Like someone who finds people hitting on them attractive, but doesn't want to accept.*
**Critical Thinking: Gained! Rank 48/100** Evolution of skill available at rank 100
**Seduction Resist: Gained! Rank 2/20** Evolution of skill available at rank 20
*I'm gaining skills just by existing. Okay, if this works just like an RPG, I should also be able to level up if I perform enough actions. Everything so far is a passive skill of some sort, I wonder if I can develop any active skills. Damn it, I shouldn't have started talking to this woman, I have to many things going on at once that I nee-*
My eyes glanced upward on their own as I regained eye contact with her, a habit I've apparently already developed from checking levels this past hour. As they grazed above her head searching for any indication of a number, I choked back a shocked cry as I noticed there was nothing but a skull. Thinking back to the MMO's I used to play, a skull could only mean their level is so high, I'm not even allowed to see it. It's a warning that attempting to fight whatever it is, is a guaranteed gameover.
For me, it means Death.
Her eyes quickly widened when she noticed I was looking above her head. Becoming predatory as she adeptly began to size me up. I had a feeling she knew what I could see, and I had a feeling I wouldn't like her reaction to my newfound ability.
"Most people stare AT the attractive girl they're talking to. What's so interesting about what's above my head?" Her voice no longer held a tone of seduction and femininity that had stirred me earlier. She spoke lower, and purred like someone who had caught a person in a lie.
**Panic!: Gained! Rank 1/1**
Panic!: ON Effects: Charisma: -24 Intelligence: Not affected(Critical Thinking above Rank 30.) Willpower: -15 Strength: +25 Agility: +10 (when fleeing)
*Lovely.*
**Abbreviations will now be used for STATS Player understands**
"I just noticed that it looks like it's raining on the other side of the street and your jacket is leather. You might wanna step inside somewhere or you'll ruin it."
**Charisma Check on ????: Passed!** CHAR(55)+(100:Event-Based)-(24:PANIC!) = 134 = **Chance for success: 100%!** EXP+ 500
**Silver Tongue: Gained! Rank 1/20** Perk only able to be leveled with Perk points, not through Player Use. Evolution available at Rank 20
**Level Up!**
"Oh shit! Thank you so much! I didn't even realize. There's a library right over there if you also need to take shelter. Thanks again!"
**QUEST COMPLETE: Avoid being attacked by the strange woman!** EXP+ 5000
**Level Up!**
**Level Up!**
**Level Up!**
...
*Looks like it won't allow the level up to keep appearing if I go up too fast. Good, that was getting obnoxious. This ability seems to make the world around me function like an RPG mainly, albeit amongst other styles of games mixed in.*
As I turned around to make sure I wasn't getting crept up on by Miss Leather Jacket, I gagged audibly.
**Fear Debuff: Gained!** Effects: WILL: -15 CHAR: -15 STR: -15 AGI: +25(When fleeing) INT: -20 Perception: -40 Accuracy: -20%
**??? 314**
*Oh god. Holy shit. Oh fuck. Okay, okay, calm down. Calm down. It's okay now. She's gone. Let's relax and try to figure out if I can interact with these notifications, or view my skills.*
**Calm Mind: Gained! Rank 70/100** Evolution available at rank 100
*Whoa, that skill is incredibly high. But why? I wonder if I can check something like that. What if there's a building skill that would allow me to create items from source materials without actual assembly? Then I could... wait, no, I'm getting too focused on possibilities instead of working with what I have. First of all, let's see if I have an inventory.*
I wasn't sure how to check if I could do something like have a bottomless bag without having a physical bag, until a message appeared in the same place as always, though this time with an exclamation mark.
**Player must open inventory by imagining an open bag with no bottom.**
Instantaneously a screen appeared in front of me, along with the sudden understanding that anything I hold in my hands, and imagine stuffing inside the bag, will be held inside. No matter the weight, size, or density. My inventory is only affected by a limit to the amount of individual types of items. No one can access this inventory but me. The exceptions being someone with my permission, someone who has an item that allows for inventory peeking and stealing, or it becoming public upon my death.
*This inventory is pretty badass. I'll definitely make sure to make good use of this. Now, I imagine I can do the same thing with my Attributes, or STATS as I saw it get called earlier. Just think about leveling up and applying experience aaaaaaaannnd... Bingo.*
The inventory screen was quickly replaced by a screen containing three columns. One of which, filled my heart with glee.
**Skills/Perks**
**Points: 30**
**Passive**
**Critical Thinking** 48/100
**Seduction Resist** 2/20
**Silver Tongue** 1/20
**Calm Mind** 70/100 (Buffed by Mental Resistance, INT, WILL, and Mental Passive skills)
*That explains the high level for Calm Mind... I wonder how I apply those perk points? Think of the amount and the skill they go into, I suppose. For now, Critical Thinking and Silver tongue seem the most useful despite being a bit lower. I'll use ten on Critical thinking, and ten on Silver Tongue...*
**Critical Thinking Rank raised by 10! (Rank 58/100)**
**Silver Tongue Rank raised by 10! (Rank 11/20)**
*I'm not proud of this... but...*
**Critical Thinking Rank raised by 2! (Rank 60/100)**
**Silver Tongue Rank raised by 9! (Silver Tongue 20/20) Evolution available!**
*Much better. Now, I should probably evolve Silver Tongue. Best to check how this whole process works and exactly what evolution entails.*
After reading the tutorial message, basically, I choose to transform the skill into one of two paths, some skills having more. Silver Tongue in particular has two:
**Devil's Tongue:** You are an incredible liar, you can convince even the most holy of people that doing your bidding, no matter the deed, is the correct path to take. Bonus Experience for persuading characters blessed with Holy to perform non-Holy actions.
**Angel's Voice:** Your words never cease to calm people, allowing you to pacify even the most hostile of creatures and people, so long as they can understand you. You also gain the ability to smite Demons and Undead with words alone. Bonus Experience for pacifying or smiting Demons or Undead.
*Hmmm, I better save this decision for later. There are factors here to consider that I haven't even begun to think about. With that out of the way, I better check out my Attributes.*
**STATS(or Attributes as this dumbass calls it)**
*Oi, what the hell?*
**STAT Points: 45**
STR: 37
Constitution(Abbreviation learned, CON will now be used): 23
AGI: 27
INT: 57
WILL: 48
CHAR: 79 (Buffed by Silver Tongue and INT)
*Based on the Charisma check with ????, these don't cap out at 100 I'm assuming it caps at 999 then, which means that ???? must've had poor mental resistance STAT's if she lost to my charisma check. I wonder what she put her points in? Probably STR and AGI considering she might be some kind of Player Hunter, but she didn't come after me after I pointed out the rain, meaning this isn't someplace where this is common, or she would've jumped me immediately... Probably killing me in an instant... No, can't think about that, it'll only make me panic.*
**Use: PANIC!** ?
*What? No. Turn that off. Having a skill that can debuff myself if I get too scared is awful. I'll need to find a way to disable that for good.*
I'll decide on how to use STAT's later.
Now, for the most incredible tree of all. MAGIC.
**MAGIC**
None, go read a book.
*Oh.*
Wait, I've been looking at everyone around so far. Their levels, analyzing what their jobs could be, even ????. I never once checked my level. I wonder what's above my head?
Stealing a glance up, I only saw one thing.
A Skull. | I see when others are going to die. I see their count for above their heads. Then the man with the skull appears and takes them. He takes them in different ways. Sometimes he takes them in their sleep. Sometimes because I bus has gotten in their way. Some have been shot. It doesn't matter. I see them. I see him. I've figured out that the number doesn't necessarily correspond to their time left. It does but not the way you would think. An 8 means they have 8 years left. The 2s are the hardest because they've 2 days left. I don't see 2s often...but when I do... I take them on a ride. You cannot be mad
Or sad when you ride a ride. I remind you of someone you love. Then keep you occupied until the skull man arrives. You forget me but I'm there for you. | |
[WP]You wake up one day and notice that you can see stats and levels over people's heads. Most are in the 20s with a few people as high as 80. As you're watching people you notice someone with a skull where their level should be staring at you. | Max had panicked on the first day, had experimented the next, and accepted on the third. The numbers told of a person's aptitude at life, overall. Young people averaged around 15-25, business people tended to ride the higher end of the curve at 50-80. Outliers were common enough; tech billionaires (he could see the numbers whether image or reality) ran at 150-200.
Max was a little miffed he sat at 34, a pretty low rank. He was also worried about the man across from him on the bus.
He wore a jet-black suit, an ash gray tie, and a taught smile that reminded Max of taxidermied animals. In his pale, bloodless hands was a briefcase. As the bus jostled and bumped, the man did not waver. He stood stock still. He had no number. All he had was a skull, almost comedic in its grinning contrast to the man's ghastly visage.
The bus hit a particularly nasty pothole, and Max stumbled over to the pale man. The man caught him with a grip like steel in winter. As he touched Max, for a moment, another number appeared below Max's "level." Quite a high number, in fact, in a green box. The green was slowly draining as the man held his grip, accompanying the number's decrease. When he let go, the cold remained in his shoulder. The number didn't increase back to full.
"Watch your step, Maximilian," the pale man said. His voice was soft wind through bare trees. "I don't like going off schedule."
Max backed away, teeth chattering from cold. He was too freaked to question it. He just stumbled off the bus, and crashed back into his apartment after fumbling with his keys.
He took off his coat, uncerimouniosly kicked his shoes into the corner, and then froze.
The pale man from the bus was sitting on his couch.
The skull hovered over his head, grinning madly at Max.
"Maximilian Tomas, you have been... selected. I am here to offer you a job."
Max stumbled backwards in shock, knocking over a lamp. Unfazed, the man opened his briefcase. Inside, a single sheet of paper lay on a pitch black suit.
"Wh... Whe... Who... Whaa..." Max gasped, slightly overwhelmed.
Suddenly, he was sitting in a chair across from the pale man.
"You know, in the most primal, terrified part of your brain, exactly who I am."
"Death." Max spoke, surprised at the evenness of his voice. On the inside, he was still screaming.
The pale man - Death - nodded, slightly.
"I am old, Max. As old as time. I am growing tired of my work, and I need... new blood. An assistant. Eventually, a replacement. This would have been the day of our meeting one way or the other, Max. Sign the contract, you become my assistant. Refuse... The day continues as the Gamemaker meant it to. You die, alone, without purpose. Your soul is deleted. It is truly your choice, Max."
"Before I sign," Max said, haltingly. "You mentioned a Gamemaker."
Death's smile twisted to a grimace.
"Yes. The boss. Architect of fate. All powerful. Not very benevolent. All will be explained... If you accept."
Max nodded. Nothing else needed to be said.
Death's taut smile returned, and Max was holding a pen. He signed on the line, and as he crossed the last "T," he was wearing the suit.
Max looked around at his mediocre apartment, at his level 5 cat, and at the terrible view out the side window.
A taut smile came to his lips as he looked at his level. A grin that matched the skull above his head.
(Feedback appreciated)
(Edit: words) | My day was going great today. The weather was nice, sky clear, and random adventurers didn't even try to pick my pockets or kill me. Varrock's streets were bustling with activity. I live near the Grand Exchange area, so there are always people running around in the streets. As I was going on my daily stroll, I noticed something odd. At first I couldn't believe my eyes! Numbers appearing over the top of people's heads. Most were in the 20s and 30s, I even saw someone with an 87. My neighbors were all level 1s? I looked at mine and it was the same. How could this be? Only level 1? As these extremely interesting thoughts and questions filled my mind. Another thing caught my eye, someone had a skull over top of their head. What could this all mean? I traveled to Edgeville for my favorite evening hobby. Spectating the savage and bloody fights of the Wilderness. There were more numbers over their heads? As was standing there, oblivious in the middle of this battlefield, a man stabbed me in the chest. My vision was going blurry as I fell to my knees. The last thing I heard was "lol sit down nerd". | |
[WP]You wake up one day and notice that you can see stats and levels over people's heads. Most are in the 20s with a few people as high as 80. As you're watching people you notice someone with a skull where their level should be staring at you. | *Calm down... Deep breaths... Inhale... Exhale... Now focus, let's think. These are obviously levels, definitely like in video games. Based on those around me, the average is around 20, give or take. If people currently have levels, then perhaps they have attributes.*
*That would explain those with higher levels, perhaps working in fields that have boosted their attributes higher. More complex jobs requiring more intelligence, thus granting more experience. Which would mean, jobs have become quests.*
*The main thing I need to think about is whether or not this is something solely affecting me, or if I've been transported into a world where this is normal.*
"Excuse me, ma'am," I reached my hand out to a woman wearing a leather jacket with a complacent look on her face, seemingly waiting for a bus. I glanced upward at the gathering dark clouds, wondering if she had decided not to walk as to avoid getting her jacket wet in case it rains. I had once ruined a leather jacket that way. Mistakes you only make once.
"Do you need something?" Her voice was like that of pink silk. It soothed me to my core, filling me with heat, as if to antagonize the awaiting rain, when I locked eyes with her.
My mind seemed to grind to a halt for no more than just a moment, my mind instantly clearing, as a prompt appeared just inside the corner of my vision. I made a conscious decision to avoid looking directly at it right away, instead taking a moment to fake a stutter to appear embarrassed, so I could steal a moment to glance away from her gaze.
**Mental Debuff: Charmed:** resisted! WILL(48)-(13: Seduce) = 35 = **Chance for resist: 87%** EXP.+ 200
*The Willpower stat doesn't surprise me now that I can see levels, I figured they would come with it too, though it is higher than I expected, but what the fuck? Did she just try to charm me? Wait, it could also mean, I think she's cute, but can resist her advances. Like someone who finds people hitting on them attractive, but doesn't want to accept.*
**Critical Thinking: Gained! Rank 48/100** Evolution of skill available at rank 100
**Seduction Resist: Gained! Rank 2/20** Evolution of skill available at rank 20
*I'm gaining skills just by existing. Okay, if this works just like an RPG, I should also be able to level up if I perform enough actions. Everything so far is a passive skill of some sort, I wonder if I can develop any active skills. Damn it, I shouldn't have started talking to this woman, I have to many things going on at once that I nee-*
My eyes glanced upward on their own as I regained eye contact with her, a habit I've apparently already developed from checking levels this past hour. As they grazed above her head searching for any indication of a number, I choked back a shocked cry as I noticed there was nothing but a skull. Thinking back to the MMO's I used to play, a skull could only mean their level is so high, I'm not even allowed to see it. It's a warning that attempting to fight whatever it is, is a guaranteed gameover.
For me, it means Death.
Her eyes quickly widened when she noticed I was looking above her head. Becoming predatory as she adeptly began to size me up. I had a feeling she knew what I could see, and I had a feeling I wouldn't like her reaction to my newfound ability.
"Most people stare AT the attractive girl they're talking to. What's so interesting about what's above my head?" Her voice no longer held a tone of seduction and femininity that had stirred me earlier. She spoke lower, and purred like someone who had caught a person in a lie.
**Panic!: Gained! Rank 1/1**
Panic!: ON Effects: Charisma: -24 Intelligence: Not affected(Critical Thinking above Rank 30.) Willpower: -15 Strength: +25 Agility: +10 (when fleeing)
*Lovely.*
**Abbreviations will now be used for STATS Player understands**
"I just noticed that it looks like it's raining on the other side of the street and your jacket is leather. You might wanna step inside somewhere or you'll ruin it."
**Charisma Check on ????: Passed!** CHAR(55)+(100:Event-Based)-(24:PANIC!) = 134 = **Chance for success: 100%!** EXP+ 500
**Silver Tongue: Gained! Rank 1/20** Perk only able to be leveled with Perk points, not through Player Use. Evolution available at Rank 20
**Level Up!**
"Oh shit! Thank you so much! I didn't even realize. There's a library right over there if you also need to take shelter. Thanks again!"
**QUEST COMPLETE: Avoid being attacked by the strange woman!** EXP+ 5000
**Level Up!**
**Level Up!**
**Level Up!**
...
*Looks like it won't allow the level up to keep appearing if I go up too fast. Good, that was getting obnoxious. This ability seems to make the world around me function like an RPG mainly, albeit amongst other styles of games mixed in.*
As I turned around to make sure I wasn't getting crept up on by Miss Leather Jacket, I gagged audibly.
**Fear Debuff: Gained!** Effects: WILL: -15 CHAR: -15 STR: -15 AGI: +25(When fleeing) INT: -20 Perception: -40 Accuracy: -20%
**??? 314**
*Oh god. Holy shit. Oh fuck. Okay, okay, calm down. Calm down. It's okay now. She's gone. Let's relax and try to figure out if I can interact with these notifications, or view my skills.*
**Calm Mind: Gained! Rank 70/100** Evolution available at rank 100
*Whoa, that skill is incredibly high. But why? I wonder if I can check something like that. What if there's a building skill that would allow me to create items from source materials without actual assembly? Then I could... wait, no, I'm getting too focused on possibilities instead of working with what I have. First of all, let's see if I have an inventory.*
I wasn't sure how to check if I could do something like have a bottomless bag without having a physical bag, until a message appeared in the same place as always, though this time with an exclamation mark.
**Player must open inventory by imagining an open bag with no bottom.**
Instantaneously a screen appeared in front of me, along with the sudden understanding that anything I hold in my hands, and imagine stuffing inside the bag, will be held inside. No matter the weight, size, or density. My inventory is only affected by a limit to the amount of individual types of items. No one can access this inventory but me. The exceptions being someone with my permission, someone who has an item that allows for inventory peeking and stealing, or it becoming public upon my death.
*This inventory is pretty badass. I'll definitely make sure to make good use of this. Now, I imagine I can do the same thing with my Attributes, or STATS as I saw it get called earlier. Just think about leveling up and applying experience aaaaaaaannnd... Bingo.*
The inventory screen was quickly replaced by a screen containing three columns. One of which, filled my heart with glee.
**Skills/Perks**
**Points: 30**
**Passive**
**Critical Thinking** 48/100
**Seduction Resist** 2/20
**Silver Tongue** 1/20
**Calm Mind** 70/100 (Buffed by Mental Resistance, INT, WILL, and Mental Passive skills)
*That explains the high level for Calm Mind... I wonder how I apply those perk points? Think of the amount and the skill they go into, I suppose. For now, Critical Thinking and Silver tongue seem the most useful despite being a bit lower. I'll use ten on Critical thinking, and ten on Silver Tongue...*
**Critical Thinking Rank raised by 10! (Rank 58/100)**
**Silver Tongue Rank raised by 10! (Rank 11/20)**
*I'm not proud of this... but...*
**Critical Thinking Rank raised by 2! (Rank 60/100)**
**Silver Tongue Rank raised by 9! (Silver Tongue 20/20) Evolution available!**
*Much better. Now, I should probably evolve Silver Tongue. Best to check how this whole process works and exactly what evolution entails.*
After reading the tutorial message, basically, I choose to transform the skill into one of two paths, some skills having more. Silver Tongue in particular has two:
**Devil's Tongue:** You are an incredible liar, you can convince even the most holy of people that doing your bidding, no matter the deed, is the correct path to take. Bonus Experience for persuading characters blessed with Holy to perform non-Holy actions.
**Angel's Voice:** Your words never cease to calm people, allowing you to pacify even the most hostile of creatures and people, so long as they can understand you. You also gain the ability to smite Demons and Undead with words alone. Bonus Experience for pacifying or smiting Demons or Undead.
*Hmmm, I better save this decision for later. There are factors here to consider that I haven't even begun to think about. With that out of the way, I better check out my Attributes.*
**STATS(or Attributes as this dumbass calls it)**
*Oi, what the hell?*
**STAT Points: 45**
STR: 37
Constitution(Abbreviation learned, CON will now be used): 23
AGI: 27
INT: 57
WILL: 48
CHAR: 79 (Buffed by Silver Tongue and INT)
*Based on the Charisma check with ????, these don't cap out at 100 I'm assuming it caps at 999 then, which means that ???? must've had poor mental resistance STAT's if she lost to my charisma check. I wonder what she put her points in? Probably STR and AGI considering she might be some kind of Player Hunter, but she didn't come after me after I pointed out the rain, meaning this isn't someplace where this is common, or she would've jumped me immediately... Probably killing me in an instant... No, can't think about that, it'll only make me panic.*
**Use: PANIC!** ?
*What? No. Turn that off. Having a skill that can debuff myself if I get too scared is awful. I'll need to find a way to disable that for good.*
I'll decide on how to use STAT's later.
Now, for the most incredible tree of all. MAGIC.
**MAGIC**
None, go read a book.
*Oh.*
Wait, I've been looking at everyone around so far. Their levels, analyzing what their jobs could be, even ????. I never once checked my level. I wonder what's above my head?
Stealing a glance up, I only saw one thing.
A Skull. | My day was going great today. The weather was nice, sky clear, and random adventurers didn't even try to pick my pockets or kill me. Varrock's streets were bustling with activity. I live near the Grand Exchange area, so there are always people running around in the streets. As I was going on my daily stroll, I noticed something odd. At first I couldn't believe my eyes! Numbers appearing over the top of people's heads. Most were in the 20s and 30s, I even saw someone with an 87. My neighbors were all level 1s? I looked at mine and it was the same. How could this be? Only level 1? As these extremely interesting thoughts and questions filled my mind. Another thing caught my eye, someone had a skull over top of their head. What could this all mean? I traveled to Edgeville for my favorite evening hobby. Spectating the savage and bloody fights of the Wilderness. There were more numbers over their heads? As was standing there, oblivious in the middle of this battlefield, a man stabbed me in the chest. My vision was going blurry as I fell to my knees. The last thing I heard was "lol sit down nerd". | |
[WP]You wake up one day and notice that you can see stats and levels over people's heads. Most are in the 20s with a few people as high as 80. As you're watching people you notice someone with a skull where their level should be staring at you. | *Calm down... Deep breaths... Inhale... Exhale... Now focus, let's think. These are obviously levels, definitely like in video games. Based on those around me, the average is around 20, give or take. If people currently have levels, then perhaps they have attributes.*
*That would explain those with higher levels, perhaps working in fields that have boosted their attributes higher. More complex jobs requiring more intelligence, thus granting more experience. Which would mean, jobs have become quests.*
*The main thing I need to think about is whether or not this is something solely affecting me, or if I've been transported into a world where this is normal.*
"Excuse me, ma'am," I reached my hand out to a woman wearing a leather jacket with a complacent look on her face, seemingly waiting for a bus. I glanced upward at the gathering dark clouds, wondering if she had decided not to walk as to avoid getting her jacket wet in case it rains. I had once ruined a leather jacket that way. Mistakes you only make once.
"Do you need something?" Her voice was like that of pink silk. It soothed me to my core, filling me with heat, as if to antagonize the awaiting rain, when I locked eyes with her.
My mind seemed to grind to a halt for no more than just a moment, my mind instantly clearing, as a prompt appeared just inside the corner of my vision. I made a conscious decision to avoid looking directly at it right away, instead taking a moment to fake a stutter to appear embarrassed, so I could steal a moment to glance away from her gaze.
**Mental Debuff: Charmed:** resisted! WILL(48)-(13: Seduce) = 35 = **Chance for resist: 87%** EXP.+ 200
*The Willpower stat doesn't surprise me now that I can see levels, I figured they would come with it too, though it is higher than I expected, but what the fuck? Did she just try to charm me? Wait, it could also mean, I think she's cute, but can resist her advances. Like someone who finds people hitting on them attractive, but doesn't want to accept.*
**Critical Thinking: Gained! Rank 48/100** Evolution of skill available at rank 100
**Seduction Resist: Gained! Rank 2/20** Evolution of skill available at rank 20
*I'm gaining skills just by existing. Okay, if this works just like an RPG, I should also be able to level up if I perform enough actions. Everything so far is a passive skill of some sort, I wonder if I can develop any active skills. Damn it, I shouldn't have started talking to this woman, I have to many things going on at once that I nee-*
My eyes glanced upward on their own as I regained eye contact with her, a habit I've apparently already developed from checking levels this past hour. As they grazed above her head searching for any indication of a number, I choked back a shocked cry as I noticed there was nothing but a skull. Thinking back to the MMO's I used to play, a skull could only mean their level is so high, I'm not even allowed to see it. It's a warning that attempting to fight whatever it is, is a guaranteed gameover.
For me, it means Death.
Her eyes quickly widened when she noticed I was looking above her head. Becoming predatory as she adeptly began to size me up. I had a feeling she knew what I could see, and I had a feeling I wouldn't like her reaction to my newfound ability.
"Most people stare AT the attractive girl they're talking to. What's so interesting about what's above my head?" Her voice no longer held a tone of seduction and femininity that had stirred me earlier. She spoke lower, and purred like someone who had caught a person in a lie.
**Panic!: Gained! Rank 1/1**
Panic!: ON Effects: Charisma: -24 Intelligence: Not affected(Critical Thinking above Rank 30.) Willpower: -15 Strength: +25 Agility: +10 (when fleeing)
*Lovely.*
**Abbreviations will now be used for STATS Player understands**
"I just noticed that it looks like it's raining on the other side of the street and your jacket is leather. You might wanna step inside somewhere or you'll ruin it."
**Charisma Check on ????: Passed!** CHAR(55)+(100:Event-Based)-(24:PANIC!) = 134 = **Chance for success: 100%!** EXP+ 500
**Silver Tongue: Gained! Rank 1/20** Perk only able to be leveled with Perk points, not through Player Use. Evolution available at Rank 20
**Level Up!**
"Oh shit! Thank you so much! I didn't even realize. There's a library right over there if you also need to take shelter. Thanks again!"
**QUEST COMPLETE: Avoid being attacked by the strange woman!** EXP+ 5000
**Level Up!**
**Level Up!**
**Level Up!**
...
*Looks like it won't allow the level up to keep appearing if I go up too fast. Good, that was getting obnoxious. This ability seems to make the world around me function like an RPG mainly, albeit amongst other styles of games mixed in.*
As I turned around to make sure I wasn't getting crept up on by Miss Leather Jacket, I gagged audibly.
**Fear Debuff: Gained!** Effects: WILL: -15 CHAR: -15 STR: -15 AGI: +25(When fleeing) INT: -20 Perception: -40 Accuracy: -20%
**??? 314**
*Oh god. Holy shit. Oh fuck. Okay, okay, calm down. Calm down. It's okay now. She's gone. Let's relax and try to figure out if I can interact with these notifications, or view my skills.*
**Calm Mind: Gained! Rank 70/100** Evolution available at rank 100
*Whoa, that skill is incredibly high. But why? I wonder if I can check something like that. What if there's a building skill that would allow me to create items from source materials without actual assembly? Then I could... wait, no, I'm getting too focused on possibilities instead of working with what I have. First of all, let's see if I have an inventory.*
I wasn't sure how to check if I could do something like have a bottomless bag without having a physical bag, until a message appeared in the same place as always, though this time with an exclamation mark.
**Player must open inventory by imagining an open bag with no bottom.**
Instantaneously a screen appeared in front of me, along with the sudden understanding that anything I hold in my hands, and imagine stuffing inside the bag, will be held inside. No matter the weight, size, or density. My inventory is only affected by a limit to the amount of individual types of items. No one can access this inventory but me. The exceptions being someone with my permission, someone who has an item that allows for inventory peeking and stealing, or it becoming public upon my death.
*This inventory is pretty badass. I'll definitely make sure to make good use of this. Now, I imagine I can do the same thing with my Attributes, or STATS as I saw it get called earlier. Just think about leveling up and applying experience aaaaaaaannnd... Bingo.*
The inventory screen was quickly replaced by a screen containing three columns. One of which, filled my heart with glee.
**Skills/Perks**
**Points: 30**
**Passive**
**Critical Thinking** 48/100
**Seduction Resist** 2/20
**Silver Tongue** 1/20
**Calm Mind** 70/100 (Buffed by Mental Resistance, INT, WILL, and Mental Passive skills)
*That explains the high level for Calm Mind... I wonder how I apply those perk points? Think of the amount and the skill they go into, I suppose. For now, Critical Thinking and Silver tongue seem the most useful despite being a bit lower. I'll use ten on Critical thinking, and ten on Silver Tongue...*
**Critical Thinking Rank raised by 10! (Rank 58/100)**
**Silver Tongue Rank raised by 10! (Rank 11/20)**
*I'm not proud of this... but...*
**Critical Thinking Rank raised by 2! (Rank 60/100)**
**Silver Tongue Rank raised by 9! (Silver Tongue 20/20) Evolution available!**
*Much better. Now, I should probably evolve Silver Tongue. Best to check how this whole process works and exactly what evolution entails.*
After reading the tutorial message, basically, I choose to transform the skill into one of two paths, some skills having more. Silver Tongue in particular has two:
**Devil's Tongue:** You are an incredible liar, you can convince even the most holy of people that doing your bidding, no matter the deed, is the correct path to take. Bonus Experience for persuading characters blessed with Holy to perform non-Holy actions.
**Angel's Voice:** Your words never cease to calm people, allowing you to pacify even the most hostile of creatures and people, so long as they can understand you. You also gain the ability to smite Demons and Undead with words alone. Bonus Experience for pacifying or smiting Demons or Undead.
*Hmmm, I better save this decision for later. There are factors here to consider that I haven't even begun to think about. With that out of the way, I better check out my Attributes.*
**STATS(or Attributes as this dumbass calls it)**
*Oi, what the hell?*
**STAT Points: 45**
STR: 37
Constitution(Abbreviation learned, CON will now be used): 23
AGI: 27
INT: 57
WILL: 48
CHAR: 79 (Buffed by Silver Tongue and INT)
*Based on the Charisma check with ????, these don't cap out at 100 I'm assuming it caps at 999 then, which means that ???? must've had poor mental resistance STAT's if she lost to my charisma check. I wonder what she put her points in? Probably STR and AGI considering she might be some kind of Player Hunter, but she didn't come after me after I pointed out the rain, meaning this isn't someplace where this is common, or she would've jumped me immediately... Probably killing me in an instant... No, can't think about that, it'll only make me panic.*
**Use: PANIC!** ?
*What? No. Turn that off. Having a skill that can debuff myself if I get too scared is awful. I'll need to find a way to disable that for good.*
I'll decide on how to use STAT's later.
Now, for the most incredible tree of all. MAGIC.
**MAGIC**
None, go read a book.
*Oh.*
Wait, I've been looking at everyone around so far. Their levels, analyzing what their jobs could be, even ????. I never once checked my level. I wonder what's above my head?
Stealing a glance up, I only saw one thing.
A Skull. | Max had panicked on the first day, had experimented the next, and accepted on the third. The numbers told of a person's aptitude at life, overall. Young people averaged around 15-25, business people tended to ride the higher end of the curve at 50-80. Outliers were common enough; tech billionaires (he could see the numbers whether image or reality) ran at 150-200.
Max was a little miffed he sat at 34, a pretty low rank. He was also worried about the man across from him on the bus.
He wore a jet-black suit, an ash gray tie, and a taught smile that reminded Max of taxidermied animals. In his pale, bloodless hands was a briefcase. As the bus jostled and bumped, the man did not waver. He stood stock still. He had no number. All he had was a skull, almost comedic in its grinning contrast to the man's ghastly visage.
The bus hit a particularly nasty pothole, and Max stumbled over to the pale man. The man caught him with a grip like steel in winter. As he touched Max, for a moment, another number appeared below Max's "level." Quite a high number, in fact, in a green box. The green was slowly draining as the man held his grip, accompanying the number's decrease. When he let go, the cold remained in his shoulder. The number didn't increase back to full.
"Watch your step, Maximilian," the pale man said. His voice was soft wind through bare trees. "I don't like going off schedule."
Max backed away, teeth chattering from cold. He was too freaked to question it. He just stumbled off the bus, and crashed back into his apartment after fumbling with his keys.
He took off his coat, uncerimouniosly kicked his shoes into the corner, and then froze.
The pale man from the bus was sitting on his couch.
The skull hovered over his head, grinning madly at Max.
"Maximilian Tomas, you have been... selected. I am here to offer you a job."
Max stumbled backwards in shock, knocking over a lamp. Unfazed, the man opened his briefcase. Inside, a single sheet of paper lay on a pitch black suit.
"Wh... Whe... Who... Whaa..." Max gasped, slightly overwhelmed.
Suddenly, he was sitting in a chair across from the pale man.
"You know, in the most primal, terrified part of your brain, exactly who I am."
"Death." Max spoke, surprised at the evenness of his voice. On the inside, he was still screaming.
The pale man - Death - nodded, slightly.
"I am old, Max. As old as time. I am growing tired of my work, and I need... new blood. An assistant. Eventually, a replacement. This would have been the day of our meeting one way or the other, Max. Sign the contract, you become my assistant. Refuse... The day continues as the Gamemaker meant it to. You die, alone, without purpose. Your soul is deleted. It is truly your choice, Max."
"Before I sign," Max said, haltingly. "You mentioned a Gamemaker."
Death's smile twisted to a grimace.
"Yes. The boss. Architect of fate. All powerful. Not very benevolent. All will be explained... If you accept."
Max nodded. Nothing else needed to be said.
Death's taut smile returned, and Max was holding a pen. He signed on the line, and as he crossed the last "T," he was wearing the suit.
Max looked around at his mediocre apartment, at his level 5 cat, and at the terrible view out the side window.
A taut smile came to his lips as he looked at his level. A grin that matched the skull above his head.
(Feedback appreciated)
(Edit: words) | |
[WP]You wake up one day and notice that you can see stats and levels over people's heads. Most are in the 20s with a few people as high as 80. As you're watching people you notice someone with a skull where their level should be staring at you. | She stared, for a moment, and blinked her eyes.
She thought she had gotten used to this strange, game-like phenomenon. She hadn’t even questioned it. This was just God’s sense of humor, right? She was being given the opportunity to see the experience of the people around her. Most of the adults hovered in their late twenties, as if their age corresponded with their level. Not quite, though.
The highest she'd seen in the past few hours had been a man in a suit. He'd breached 80. That had caught her off guard a little, but it was useful information to have. All the numbers were displayed so plainly, as if the number held so much significance that it needed to be so easy to read. She was the only one who seemed capable of reading them, though. Well, probably. There was always the possibility that this kind of vision was the norm, and she was just discovering it now. Maybe it was level related. Was it level related? Should she call her dad? Her friends? Would any of them know?
Her eyes lingered on the child with a stuffed rabbit tucked under her arm, the child who was already staring at her and offering a brilliant smile.
Nala Fortune. With a skull over her fucking head.
She squinted in disbelief, and the child did the same before making a funny face. Her parents seemed normal, with a 27 and a 22 hovering over their heads. “Dahlia,” the child called, tugging on the arm of her father and pointing at her with the stuffed animal.
The child knew her name.
Dahlia squeaked, her fingers instinctively curling at their sides as the child is led past her and out of eyesight. “Nala Fortune.” She repeated the name under her breath and walked the other way, shaking her head. It didn’t even sound like a real name. It sounded like the kind of name a kid would pick for themselves. Maybe she could see that? Like... a nickname, a moniker? Beyond that, other people could definitely see her level, too. Right? What did a skull even mean? What could it mean?
Boss?
A child like that? No way. The levels seemed directly tied to experience - experience in what, she couldn't say, but a child wouldn't be a boss level *anything*. It was impossible.
“Dahlia.”
She heard that voice, and that voice is suddenly giving her chills. The voice of a little girl shouldn't be as scary as it was. “Nala,” she offered, tentative. The kid's parents had let her go? Why? What sort of parents would let their kid leave their sight to talk to a stranger?
The child hugged her stuffed rabbit to her chest as she spoke. “I like your username.” *What*? Dahlia took an instinctive step back, her fingers reaching for something, but coming up with nothing. “I thought this was a PvE server, you know. It’s the first time I’ve seen another player.” *What*? The question repeats in her mind, throat going dry in confusion. “You can always tell if there’s another player based on their icon.”
“What’s mine?”
Dahlia blurted the words out as she steps back another few feet, the people around her walking around her as if she wasn’t even there. “A flower. It means you’re NPC friendly.”
Dahlia didn't need to ask what the skull stood for. She took one look at the bunny in Nala’s hands and swallowed thickly. “And you’re… an NPC killer, then?”
“Close! But no. Welcome to the game, Dahlia. And goodbye.”
The sound of the rabbit ripping rings through her ears as she watches the child pull the hilt of a dagger from the seams of the animal. This isn't going to go well. She didn't have time to think.
Dahlia turned on her heel and ran. | I swear, i thought i was still dreaming. It wasn't an idea totally out of the question, since id been experimenting with lucidity.
See, i watch sports highlights before work in the morning, and i couldn't wrap my head around all the numbers hovering all above the football players' heads, thinking it was a new tv tracking feature or something, i looked up and yelled for my girlfriend.
Milk from my cereal nearly leaked from my mouth when she stumbled out of the bathroom, beautiful as ever, but with the same type of number over her head.
I sat there, mouth completely opened, gawking at the big yellow 22 above her.
Smoke must have been coming out of my ears while i tried to process what i was seeing. I quickly reasoned to myself that this has to be a lucid dream, so i reasonably proceeded to stand up, part my hands, and yell WATERMELON! Only thing is, no watermelon appeared between my hands. My girlfriend walked right up to me, number above and all, and put herself between my arms.
"Call me watermelon again and ill shiv you boy i swear" she teased "might want to go shave before work you caveman." As she gave me a peck on the cheek.
I don't think i closed my mouth until i got in my car an hour later. The drive to work had me equally baffled as I tried to figure out what the numbers meant, everyone had one, some lower, and some way higher up near 100.
It wasn't until I got to work that things really started to make sense. My coworker, Steve was the first person I saw when I got in. Hovering above him was a big number 18. Steve is a bit of a dumbass, so I couldn't help but grin when I saw his number was lower than my girls, despite him being 27, 5 years older than both my girl and I. "Steve, have you noticed anything different with anyone today?" I asked.
"I dunno.." He shot back, "You might have gotten a bit uglier."
"Hmm.. I may be losing my mind, but at least everyones just as snarky" i thought
Not a minute later my boss rolled up in his nice new Jaguar. As he got out I saw a big green 75 follow him. Now I get it my boss was always a self-starter this being his fifth business. The numbers must have something to do with how far you push yourself in life. The idea of that, being able to catagorize people on where they had gotten really didnt sit well with me, but what was I going to do? Look at an eclipse and burn my retinas?
I really only stayed at work for about two hours before I complained that I was sick, the problem was I just couldn't get these damn numbers out of my head. I decided to further explore my new ...gift? So I got my car and drove down more towards the heart of the city. It was honestly baffling to me how many people had such low numbers versus how many people had high numbers, and the shockingly small number of people in the middle. (35-60 range) I had heard rumours about the decreasing middle class but to actually see it for myself was a little bit terrifying.
I pulled up to a parking meter down town and got out, put some change in the meter and went for a walk. As I continued I started to notice that people with similar (ratings?) tended to stay together like friends, coworkers, family, so on. It honestly seemed like a new world to me, and my mind was really racing. I decided that a coffee would be my remedy for my currently cluster-bombed brain. So i started towards the Tim Hortons that was about a block away.
I walked right past a bit of a shady area on my way and passed a couple homeless looking fellows, donning a 2 and 3 respectively. Couldnt help but feel for them, every opportunity in the world here yet some still have it so hard. i decided that i was going to pick them up a couple bagels while getting my coffee.
As i walk back down the street, Coffee in one hand and bagels in the other I noticed one of the homeless man's one had turned into a skull, startled I made my way towards them smiling politely. Nerves shot in my spine as my gaze shifted from the man with a 2, who was looking at the floor, to the man woth the skull Who seem to have been staring right into my soul.
When I was about 5 feet away the man, still staring right at me, started to get up.
"Hey guys" i said "i picked up a cou..."
THUD! the man with the skull above had gotten up and straight cold cocked me in the jaw.
"BOSS FIGHT" he screamed, as i stumbled back. He then took a step towards me, somewhere in this commotion he must've forgotten that he had his backpack at his feet. As this man stepped towards me his foot caught the loop on his backpack and he went down face first with a loud crack. I looked at him as he lay motionless on the concrete, then back at the other man, who seemed too high to even comprehend the situation.
Without another second hesitation i got out of there, full sprint, back to my car. Maybe if I just go home to sleep, ill wake up and not see these stupid numbers everywhere. | |
[WP]You wake up one day and notice that you can see stats and levels over people's heads. Most are in the 20s with a few people as high as 80. As you're watching people you notice someone with a skull where their level should be staring at you. | I had no idea what the numbers meant. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, but they wouldn't go away. A lot of younger kids, even some teenagers, had numbers in the 20s. A few middle aged people walked by, with almost all of their numbers around 40 or 50. I saw a homeless man huddled next to a trash can with 80 above his head.
What were these? I looked up and saw a skull above my head. Why was it not a number, like everyone else? I began walking down the street when I saw another skull in the distance. I got closer and closer to the skull when the person it belonged to emerged from the crowd— a teenage boy.
His eyes grew wide as he saw me and he grabbed my hand. "Come with me," he whispered. I didn't question him and I followed him around a corner and into a small park. We stopped under a tree.
"The numbers," he said. "Has anyone explained them to you?"
"Uh... no. I just started seeing them today," I said.
He looked around nervously, as if he was afraid someone was watching. "Have you seen anyone else with a skull above their head?" I shook my head. "Th-The numbers are how many skulls they've killed."
I scoffed. "You... you're kidding, right?"
He shook his head. "They c-can't see the numbers. But when they reach 100, they get a special prize. I don't know what it is and I-I don't plan to find out."
"So... everyone with a number has killed somebody?" I asked incredulously.
"Yeah, unfortunately. They seek out skulls like us by getting to know them and then killing them when they figure out their personalities. Our goal is just to... survive." He paused. I could tell he was getting more and more nervous by the second. "I haven't seen another skull in 5 years. I-I thought I was the only one left in the city."
"I just moved here with my boyfriend," I explained. "I need to go."
"Be careful," he warned. "Please."
I smiled politely at him and walked away towards my apartment. By this time, I was sure my boyfriend was home from work. I tried to ignore the numbers the best I could and I got home quickly. As I unlocked the apartment door, I became confused. None of the lights were on. My boyfriend should have been home, but he wasn't.
"Max?" I called out. "Are you home yet?"
The door slammed behind me, and I jumped. Max stood in front of the now closed door. I couldn't believe what I saw.
"Hey, sweetie," he said, closing in on me. I knew the look on my face gave it all away. "What's wrong?"
He reached to hug me, and even though I saw the knife in his hand, I let him. I was too scared to pull away.
He pulled my head against his shoulder, and gently said "Tell me about your day."
I wanted to forget it. But I saw it.
His number was 99. | I swear, i thought i was still dreaming. It wasn't an idea totally out of the question, since id been experimenting with lucidity.
See, i watch sports highlights before work in the morning, and i couldn't wrap my head around all the numbers hovering all above the football players' heads, thinking it was a new tv tracking feature or something, i looked up and yelled for my girlfriend.
Milk from my cereal nearly leaked from my mouth when she stumbled out of the bathroom, beautiful as ever, but with the same type of number over her head.
I sat there, mouth completely opened, gawking at the big yellow 22 above her.
Smoke must have been coming out of my ears while i tried to process what i was seeing. I quickly reasoned to myself that this has to be a lucid dream, so i reasonably proceeded to stand up, part my hands, and yell WATERMELON! Only thing is, no watermelon appeared between my hands. My girlfriend walked right up to me, number above and all, and put herself between my arms.
"Call me watermelon again and ill shiv you boy i swear" she teased "might want to go shave before work you caveman." As she gave me a peck on the cheek.
I don't think i closed my mouth until i got in my car an hour later. The drive to work had me equally baffled as I tried to figure out what the numbers meant, everyone had one, some lower, and some way higher up near 100.
It wasn't until I got to work that things really started to make sense. My coworker, Steve was the first person I saw when I got in. Hovering above him was a big number 18. Steve is a bit of a dumbass, so I couldn't help but grin when I saw his number was lower than my girls, despite him being 27, 5 years older than both my girl and I. "Steve, have you noticed anything different with anyone today?" I asked.
"I dunno.." He shot back, "You might have gotten a bit uglier."
"Hmm.. I may be losing my mind, but at least everyones just as snarky" i thought
Not a minute later my boss rolled up in his nice new Jaguar. As he got out I saw a big green 75 follow him. Now I get it my boss was always a self-starter this being his fifth business. The numbers must have something to do with how far you push yourself in life. The idea of that, being able to catagorize people on where they had gotten really didnt sit well with me, but what was I going to do? Look at an eclipse and burn my retinas?
I really only stayed at work for about two hours before I complained that I was sick, the problem was I just couldn't get these damn numbers out of my head. I decided to further explore my new ...gift? So I got my car and drove down more towards the heart of the city. It was honestly baffling to me how many people had such low numbers versus how many people had high numbers, and the shockingly small number of people in the middle. (35-60 range) I had heard rumours about the decreasing middle class but to actually see it for myself was a little bit terrifying.
I pulled up to a parking meter down town and got out, put some change in the meter and went for a walk. As I continued I started to notice that people with similar (ratings?) tended to stay together like friends, coworkers, family, so on. It honestly seemed like a new world to me, and my mind was really racing. I decided that a coffee would be my remedy for my currently cluster-bombed brain. So i started towards the Tim Hortons that was about a block away.
I walked right past a bit of a shady area on my way and passed a couple homeless looking fellows, donning a 2 and 3 respectively. Couldnt help but feel for them, every opportunity in the world here yet some still have it so hard. i decided that i was going to pick them up a couple bagels while getting my coffee.
As i walk back down the street, Coffee in one hand and bagels in the other I noticed one of the homeless man's one had turned into a skull, startled I made my way towards them smiling politely. Nerves shot in my spine as my gaze shifted from the man with a 2, who was looking at the floor, to the man woth the skull Who seem to have been staring right into my soul.
When I was about 5 feet away the man, still staring right at me, started to get up.
"Hey guys" i said "i picked up a cou..."
THUD! the man with the skull above had gotten up and straight cold cocked me in the jaw.
"BOSS FIGHT" he screamed, as i stumbled back. He then took a step towards me, somewhere in this commotion he must've forgotten that he had his backpack at his feet. As this man stepped towards me his foot caught the loop on his backpack and he went down face first with a loud crack. I looked at him as he lay motionless on the concrete, then back at the other man, who seemed too high to even comprehend the situation.
Without another second hesitation i got out of there, full sprint, back to my car. Maybe if I just go home to sleep, ill wake up and not see these stupid numbers everywhere. | |
[WP] Your birth name is only kept until your 18th birthday. Your true name is assigned according to your personality and how you've lead your life so far. You're expecting a typical name and think you've been a good person. However, after opening your envelope, you are horrified by what is inside. | Dear Mr. Schumacher
We have received your letter of complaint regarding your assigned name. We receive thousands of such complaints each year, and we typically respond with a simple form letter stating that all decisions are final. Your case, however, is of special interest to the department, and thus we felt you deserved to know our reasoning.
Your statements regarding your character, specifically "I like to think I've been a decent person" are, to your credit, too humble. Every person we interviewed about your character had nothing but praise for your intelligence, your drive, and your compassion. Your academics are astounding. In your first 18 years, you've already completed college (diploma waiting on the assignment of your name non-withstanding), founded a non-profit corporation dedicated to providing free health care to the under-privileged, and saved several lives during the the horrible incident at your school on march 15th. That you have accomplished all this despite your personal tragedies is all the more impressive. Everyone who knows you, and everyone here at the department, agree that you are an exceptional young man who is going to do great things.
Names acquire their meanings and power from long storied history. Every name throughout history has had both heroes and villains associated with it. For every Peter the Great there is a Peter the Terrible, for every St. Louis a Louis XVIII. This balance is necessary, for any name associated only with villains would fall out of use rapidly. This is especially the case with recent historical figures. We here at the department have a vested interest in maintaining a wide variety of usable names, and so when the opportunity presents itself, we like to take steps to redeem certain names in the eyes of the public. In you, we have seen such an opportunity. We understand this is a heavy burden to bear, but we are certain you can bear it. We have put our faith in you, Adolf Schumacher, and we know you will do us all proud.
Sincerely,
The Department of Naming. | The candles on top of the cake had burned themselves out, leaving 18 little puddles behind. The guests had left several hours ago, avoiding eye contact with all of us. I could hear sobs coming from the guest bathroom, where my mother had locked herself. My father was sitting on the back porch with a bottle of vodka. I didn’t know what to do with myself, though I guess that was nothing new.
“Ma-” My sister slapped her hand over my mouth before I could finish saying her name. No, I corrected myself silently. Not her name. Her birth name. Now that she was 18, it was forbidden to address her that way ever again. I had never thought about it before. It had never occurred to me that I would have nothing to call her.
The day had been so exciting. We got up early to get the house ready for the envelope delivery and reveal. She had been born at 8:51 am, so we had to be ready early. We’d planned on a breakfast, obviously, except for the traditional naming cake. Our friends and neighbors had arrived right on time, ready to share the day with us.
The DON van had arrived right on time, five minutes prior to her birth time. The delivery woman smiled at us as....my sister...signed for her envelope. It was her first official act as an adult, and her last time to use her birth name. Once the van left, my mother lit the candles. We all sang happy birthday, pausing at ”Dear,” waiting for the guest of honor to announce her new name.
I will never forget the look on her face as she unfolded the paper and saw her future. She slowly let the paper fall to the floor, and my mother rushed to pick it up. But by the time it hit the ground, we could all see the bright red stamp: UNDESIGNATED.
| |
[WP] Your birth name is only kept until your 18th birthday. Your true name is assigned according to your personality and how you've lead your life so far. You're expecting a typical name and think you've been a good person. However, after opening your envelope, you are horrified by what is inside. | "You have got to be fucking kidding me. What the fucking shitsticks is this fucking crap?"
"You know, if you stop cussing like a sailor, maybe you're have a better name." My sister smirked at me. I gave her the finger and continued to scowl at my new name.
*Guy Fuckboi-McRudeman Jr.* | The candles on top of the cake had burned themselves out, leaving 18 little puddles behind. The guests had left several hours ago, avoiding eye contact with all of us. I could hear sobs coming from the guest bathroom, where my mother had locked herself. My father was sitting on the back porch with a bottle of vodka. I didn’t know what to do with myself, though I guess that was nothing new.
“Ma-” My sister slapped her hand over my mouth before I could finish saying her name. No, I corrected myself silently. Not her name. Her birth name. Now that she was 18, it was forbidden to address her that way ever again. I had never thought about it before. It had never occurred to me that I would have nothing to call her.
The day had been so exciting. We got up early to get the house ready for the envelope delivery and reveal. She had been born at 8:51 am, so we had to be ready early. We’d planned on a breakfast, obviously, except for the traditional naming cake. Our friends and neighbors had arrived right on time, ready to share the day with us.
The DON van had arrived right on time, five minutes prior to her birth time. The delivery woman smiled at us as....my sister...signed for her envelope. It was her first official act as an adult, and her last time to use her birth name. Once the van left, my mother lit the candles. We all sang happy birthday, pausing at ”Dear,” waiting for the guest of honor to announce her new name.
I will never forget the look on her face as she unfolded the paper and saw her future. She slowly let the paper fall to the floor, and my mother rushed to pick it up. But by the time it hit the ground, we could all see the bright red stamp: UNDESIGNATED.
| |
[WP] Your birth name is only kept until your 18th birthday. Your true name is assigned according to your personality and how you've lead your life so far. You're expecting a typical name and think you've been a good person. However, after opening your envelope, you are horrified by what is inside. | It can't be true. Something has to be wrong. The Naming Bureau, they must have made a mistake. Yeah, it's all a mistake. Just some big mix-up, that's all.
I stand in the parlor, looking up at the big family photo. It's years old now, taken a few years after my younger sister was born, but it's the only picture with all five of us in it. Mom looks so young, so full of life and happiness in it. She has Gabby on her lap, trying to keep the squirming toddler from making too much of a funny face. Next to her is Dad, who is standing behind me and my older brother. He has one hand on each of our shoulders, and he's smiling. It's been so long since I've seen him smile like that.
My gaze settles on my brother, John. He had been 'Jamie' when we were kids, but on his 18th birthday he had gotten the name 'Johnathan' and we switched to calling him John. He didn't mind the switch too much, it only took us a few weeks to get used to it.
Not that it mattered much. We only got to use it for about a year, until a drunk driver took him away from us.
Maybe that's why this hurts so much. Maybe that's why Dad walked out, and why Mom's in the kitchen crying. If John were here, maybe things would be different. I bet he would know what to do. He'd probably joke about it, I bet. Say something about how it was clearly the best name, so of course I'd get it.
I glance down at the letter which has since fallen to the floor, left unforgotten in the chaos. I can only make out the first line of it, but that's more than enough to bring back the memories I didn't want.
"Congratulations Peter Clarke! Your new name, as decided by the Naming Bureau, is Johnathan Clarke." | The candles on top of the cake had burned themselves out, leaving 18 little puddles behind. The guests had left several hours ago, avoiding eye contact with all of us. I could hear sobs coming from the guest bathroom, where my mother had locked herself. My father was sitting on the back porch with a bottle of vodka. I didn’t know what to do with myself, though I guess that was nothing new.
“Ma-” My sister slapped her hand over my mouth before I could finish saying her name. No, I corrected myself silently. Not her name. Her birth name. Now that she was 18, it was forbidden to address her that way ever again. I had never thought about it before. It had never occurred to me that I would have nothing to call her.
The day had been so exciting. We got up early to get the house ready for the envelope delivery and reveal. She had been born at 8:51 am, so we had to be ready early. We’d planned on a breakfast, obviously, except for the traditional naming cake. Our friends and neighbors had arrived right on time, ready to share the day with us.
The DON van had arrived right on time, five minutes prior to her birth time. The delivery woman smiled at us as....my sister...signed for her envelope. It was her first official act as an adult, and her last time to use her birth name. Once the van left, my mother lit the candles. We all sang happy birthday, pausing at ”Dear,” waiting for the guest of honor to announce her new name.
I will never forget the look on her face as she unfolded the paper and saw her future. She slowly let the paper fall to the floor, and my mother rushed to pick it up. But by the time it hit the ground, we could all see the bright red stamp: UNDESIGNATED.
| |
[WP] Your birth name is only kept until your 18th birthday. Your true name is assigned according to your personality and how you've lead your life so far. You're expecting a typical name and think you've been a good person. However, after opening your envelope, you are horrified by what is inside. | Dear Mr. Schumacher
We have received your letter of complaint regarding your assigned name. We receive thousands of such complaints each year, and we typically respond with a simple form letter stating that all decisions are final. Your case, however, is of special interest to the department, and thus we felt you deserved to know our reasoning.
Your statements regarding your character, specifically "I like to think I've been a decent person" are, to your credit, too humble. Every person we interviewed about your character had nothing but praise for your intelligence, your drive, and your compassion. Your academics are astounding. In your first 18 years, you've already completed college (diploma waiting on the assignment of your name non-withstanding), founded a non-profit corporation dedicated to providing free health care to the under-privileged, and saved several lives during the the horrible incident at your school on march 15th. That you have accomplished all this despite your personal tragedies is all the more impressive. Everyone who knows you, and everyone here at the department, agree that you are an exceptional young man who is going to do great things.
Names acquire their meanings and power from long storied history. Every name throughout history has had both heroes and villains associated with it. For every Peter the Great there is a Peter the Terrible, for every St. Louis a Louis XVIII. This balance is necessary, for any name associated only with villains would fall out of use rapidly. This is especially the case with recent historical figures. We here at the department have a vested interest in maintaining a wide variety of usable names, and so when the opportunity presents itself, we like to take steps to redeem certain names in the eyes of the public. In you, we have seen such an opportunity. We understand this is a heavy burden to bear, but we are certain you can bear it. We have put our faith in you, Adolf Schumacher, and we know you will do us all proud.
Sincerely,
The Department of Naming. | According to basically all of the online quizzes, my name should either have been: Stephen, Alexander, Oliver, William or Robert. Good, strong, respectable names. Names you could use in a professional setting, but could also shorten when chatting with your mates down the pub.
But not this.
The three last people to have been assigned what was now my name were, in order, a mass murder and serial rapist, a banker jailed for life for embezzlement and fraud, and a cruel dictator of some small country only recently overthrown. Since then, eight others had been assigned the name, but all of them had died before the age of 20 by suicide. What a standard to live up to.
We called the Department of Naming numerous times, pleading with them to send the correct name as there had clearly been a mix-up somewhere and there was no way in the world such a polite and well-mannered boy could come even close to anything like this.
Each time, the same name arrived, and the hope in our faces sank a little more.
**From this moment onwards, you shall be called: KEITH**
^^^^^.
r/asmo | |
[WP] Your birth name is only kept until your 18th birthday. Your true name is assigned according to your personality and how you've lead your life so far. You're expecting a typical name and think you've been a good person. However, after opening your envelope, you are horrified by what is inside. | It can't be true. Something has to be wrong. The Naming Bureau, they must have made a mistake. Yeah, it's all a mistake. Just some big mix-up, that's all.
I stand in the parlor, looking up at the big family photo. It's years old now, taken a few years after my younger sister was born, but it's the only picture with all five of us in it. Mom looks so young, so full of life and happiness in it. She has Gabby on her lap, trying to keep the squirming toddler from making too much of a funny face. Next to her is Dad, who is standing behind me and my older brother. He has one hand on each of our shoulders, and he's smiling. It's been so long since I've seen him smile like that.
My gaze settles on my brother, John. He had been 'Jamie' when we were kids, but on his 18th birthday he had gotten the name 'Johnathan' and we switched to calling him John. He didn't mind the switch too much, it only took us a few weeks to get used to it.
Not that it mattered much. We only got to use it for about a year, until a drunk driver took him away from us.
Maybe that's why this hurts so much. Maybe that's why Dad walked out, and why Mom's in the kitchen crying. If John were here, maybe things would be different. I bet he would know what to do. He'd probably joke about it, I bet. Say something about how it was clearly the best name, so of course I'd get it.
I glance down at the letter which has since fallen to the floor, left unforgotten in the chaos. I can only make out the first line of it, but that's more than enough to bring back the memories I didn't want.
"Congratulations Peter Clarke! Your new name, as decided by the Naming Bureau, is Johnathan Clarke." | "You have got to be fucking kidding me. What the fucking shitsticks is this fucking crap?"
"You know, if you stop cussing like a sailor, maybe you're have a better name." My sister smirked at me. I gave her the finger and continued to scowl at my new name.
*Guy Fuckboi-McRudeman Jr.* | |
[WP] Your birth name is only kept until your 18th birthday. Your true name is assigned according to your personality and how you've lead your life so far. You're expecting a typical name and think you've been a good person. However, after opening your envelope, you are horrified by what is inside. | It can't be true. Something has to be wrong. The Naming Bureau, they must have made a mistake. Yeah, it's all a mistake. Just some big mix-up, that's all.
I stand in the parlor, looking up at the big family photo. It's years old now, taken a few years after my younger sister was born, but it's the only picture with all five of us in it. Mom looks so young, so full of life and happiness in it. She has Gabby on her lap, trying to keep the squirming toddler from making too much of a funny face. Next to her is Dad, who is standing behind me and my older brother. He has one hand on each of our shoulders, and he's smiling. It's been so long since I've seen him smile like that.
My gaze settles on my brother, John. He had been 'Jamie' when we were kids, but on his 18th birthday he had gotten the name 'Johnathan' and we switched to calling him John. He didn't mind the switch too much, it only took us a few weeks to get used to it.
Not that it mattered much. We only got to use it for about a year, until a drunk driver took him away from us.
Maybe that's why this hurts so much. Maybe that's why Dad walked out, and why Mom's in the kitchen crying. If John were here, maybe things would be different. I bet he would know what to do. He'd probably joke about it, I bet. Say something about how it was clearly the best name, so of course I'd get it.
I glance down at the letter which has since fallen to the floor, left unforgotten in the chaos. I can only make out the first line of it, but that's more than enough to bring back the memories I didn't want.
"Congratulations Peter Clarke! Your new name, as decided by the Naming Bureau, is Johnathan Clarke." | Dear PenPal,
I was the *first*. Trust me. I called the **Department of National Naming**. I can promise, I was the most surprised when my envelope arrived. Even now, almost two weeks into my *18th year*, I am genuinely shocked. The kind of shock that makes you question the very fundamentals which you have built yourself. The **Department of National Naming** was responsible for distributing the name, the judges were never revealed though. They were apparently high ranking individuals that had the capacity to glance over your first 18 years and decide a name based on those memories, actions, and your overall personality. Scary thought, I know.
I don't think I ever explained the process to you, it's weird writing to someone from the outside.
The mailing system here is mostly run through a sophisticated magnetic tube system, it essentially connects all homes to a major hub. Each morning around 4am all of the countries mail is sent simultaneously. The **Department of Magnetic Mailing** is the second worst department to be assigned. They work tirelessly all day and night packing everything onto the magnetic railings. Anything too large for the tubes has to be placed on a drone for special delivery. I am curious as to how your mailing system works. Could you explain it to me?
My 18th birthday was a relatively normal day for the most part. I woke up around 6am when my mom called out to me for breakfast. I had requested she make my favorite blueberry pancakes topped with English Cream. I mean, you only get renamed once. How could I not celebrate? I flew down the stairs, descending into a sweet aroma of summer berries and baking bread. Right next to the stacked plate of pancakes and cream was a small brown envelope. It had an old fashion wax seal, pressed down with the **Department of National Naming** crest. My new name was locked within this little wrap of paper. I was excited, no, I was beyond excited. I ripped it open without hesitation, pulling out a single small sheet of paper. The sheet legitimately didn't have anything on it. **Nothing!** I was the first to be nameless, just a *blank*.
Till next time,
_______. | |
[WP] Ever since you were 12, you would roll a dice to help you make decisions. Even numbers = Yes, Odds = No. Today, for the first time in 6 years, both dices land on their edges. | Some people have said that I'm slightly autistic. I was slow in school and didn't quite understand the social complexities of life, but I mainly just disliked people. They made me anxious and since I was picked on at a young age, distrustful. Perhaps I was slightly off, but that's anther matter entirely. What I'm here to tell you today is how you shouldn't rely too heavily on something like an old nervous habit to live your life.
When I was twelve my grandfather, a kindly old man who was taken too early by cancer. He saw me huddled in a corner of my room rocking back and forth shivering and mumbling. I wasn't sure if I wanted to have chocolate or butterscotch pudding. Perhaps a small decision to you, but mother said I could only choose one. ONE for the entire day. My grandfather held me and told me a secret as he handed me dice that he said had won him many a game of chance in the navy. He said "roll the dice when you question yourself evens are yes and odds are no" I stopped my sniveling and looked at him, pondering. I questioned him about the enormity of decisions that I was leaving to two plastic cubes and began to freak out about pudding again. He told about the mind and how I knew what I wanted and the dice would just help balance my subconscious, force to the front my decision. I had butterscotch after a roll of 5.
After that my life had been fairly ordinary, still bullied and taunted, but I had my solace in my mind at least. Even the therapist applauded my late grandfather on calming me. I write this letter now, however in my last semblance of sane thought. For six years the dice have been my tick, my nervous habit. Today when I decided to go to my grandfathers funeral or to stay home and cry alone my dice betrayed me. I sat on my bed, black suit on and hair in shambles, tears already building within me. I rolled my greatest possessions and looked on in horror. I wanted to stay home, but the dice had not given me that answer. The dice had given me no answer at all. As I threw them on my desk they had given up. Retired as my grandfather had and lay there in their edges. No numbers definitively to show me the path. I reached to roll again, but pulled away. If I began with mulligans now then my life up till now would be a lie.
So after hours of sobbing and shivering I came to the only solution. I would roll again, for something different. I can't remember what, but I know it was minuscule and only to restore my faith. Again the dice betrayed me. I began to roll furiously, again and again the dice taunted me. They were tired of me. They had decided to abandon me, their magic gone with my grandfather's body. Now solidly beneath the earth.
I could barely see when the final idea sprung to life and I rolled one last time. The dice tumbled over and over on the desk. One landed soundly one a snake eye. The other tumbled over the side. I rejoiced, an answer or at least the idea of one. I kept off of my bed and dug beneath my desk. Another snake eye peered out from beneath the clutter of computer cords and dust bunnies. I whispered to myself joyously. What sweet salvation. The dice had released me from their hold I no longer had to roll them. So as my really only true decision I decided to write this note.
My message is simple. Forge your own path and don't let your mind or the world deceive you. You know what you want. Take it. Goodbye
Sincerely and with joyous heart
Adam
The police responded to the call of gunshots in the small neighborhood promptly and found the boy slumped against his desk. smiling blissfully, two small red dice in his hand, a gun on the floor, a bullet between the eyes. | I've always been burdened with decision making, I never really know what to do.
I used dice to figure out what path to take.
Evens would mean yes and Odds would mean no I kept telling myself.
I tried it for trivial decisions and it seemed to work, slowly it became a habit. I would roll the dice just to make sure what I wanted to do, even though subconsciously I knew what my decision would be.
But then it happened, I wanted to tell my friend how much he meant to me, he was going out for a trip and it would be long before I get to see him again.
I rolled the dice and they landed on their edges, I knew what I wanted to do, my first instinct was to roll them again. But this was something new, this had never happened before.
I was anxious and decided to let it be , the realization quickly hit me. I am responsible for the decisions I make. I went up to my friend and told him how much he meant to me, he hugged me. I felt great.
I came back and realized that for all these years I had used the dice as an alternative to the mind and the heart. I rolled the dice to make decisions but I would look at them in a certain way.
My first assurance came from the fact that one dice was the heart and the other was the mind, even though there was no difference between the dice.
My next assurance came from the fact that consciously I believed the odd number represents the heart and the even represents the mind.
So in reality every decision I took was a combination of both the heart and the mind, it was just a matter of perspective subconsciously.
Every roll of the dice was just a confirmation for what I believed in.
| |
[WP] Whenever you're in danger, your body automatically slows time to allow you to react to it better, the slower the time the greater the danger. Three days ago everything went still and you still have no idea what danger you're in. | "What the hell?" Thomas stared at the clock in his office. The second hand had completely stopped. He glared for what he guessed was a minute. The hand did not tick or tock.
Panicking, he reached for the hourglass on his desk. To his clients it was a sophisticated paper weight, but to him it was a measurement of his danger. He eagerly eyed the desk ornament as he flipped it over. Not one grain of sand fell.
"Oh fuck," he thought, his hand still holding the timepiece. A panic petrification overtook him. Slowly, he returned to his desk. He glanced back at the clock. It remained as still as concrete. "Shit, guess I better take a look."
Thomas slowly opened his door and surveyed his workplace. The row of cubicles that stretched in front him seemed normal. Rudith's desk was directly in front of his office. She was mid-spin in her chair with the phone to her ear. She was laughing her despicable cackle and her red hair seemed to erupt from her head. Thomas looked both ways in the aisle. After seeing no immediate signs of danger, he relaxed a little and walked over to Rudith. He slapped her across the face. She didn't move but he knew she wouldn't be laughing when this was over. "That's for all the headaches you've given me," he thought.
Thomas was on edge as he wandered around. He turned a corner and peered through the double-paned windows. He didn't see anything that would cause him harm. No aircraft flying too low or traffic that was about to crash into the building. Everything seemed exceptionally ordinary, besides the fact that nothing was moving or exhibiting signs of life.
After a quick inspection of the office floor he headed for the stairs and began to climb down. At each floor he would enter and do a quick walkthrough of the offices and businesses. He had to make sure that the danger wasn't coming from inside the building. He would've been annoyed at how long the whole process was taking if it weren't for the fact that he had literally all the time in the world.
It was amazing at how still everything was. While this wasn't the first time he had experienced the effects of his intrinsic defense mechanism, it was the first time he had seen it work to such an extreme. It was also the first time he had moved around so freely during a time slow. Never before had time completely stopped. Sure it would slow down considerably, but he hadn't ever dared to move dramatically from whatever position he was in when it activated. He could dodge a punch or begin a change of momentum, but if he were to move at full speed it would be evident to witnesses that something supernatural had just occurred. This time was different. This time, no one was consciously aware. Everyone and everything was suspended in time. He now remembered how as a child he would spend his nights before bed dreaming of what he would do if he could manipulate it. How he would sneak into the girls locker room or look up all the answers to his exam. He even went as to far to think of a way to put himself in a constant state of danger so that it would always be active. In the end, he simply did not have the means to command his chronological gift.
After clearing the building, Thomas exited onto the street. "What the hell is causing this? Nothing is even breathing! How can I be in danger?" He started to run through the streets. His frustration was getting the better of him. Soon it turned into paranoia and he started checking all the surrounding businesses, vehicles, and people. For what must've been a full 24 hours, Thomas had checked every establishment and person, in about a 10 block radius. He found nothing. He screamed in the middle of the street, his voice echoing off of the silence.
His frustrated fury died to demoralization, and he fell to his knees. He was unsure if he would be stuck in this fixed dimension. He panicked at the thought of it and remained as still as those around him.
After an indefinite amount of time, he heard footsteps. He jolted upright seeking the source. He leered through his immediate environment desperate to see movement. Jumping on top of a cab he got a better view. In front of him, about 100 meters away, he saw a blonde ponytail bobbing away from him. He remained stunned for a second on the roof of the taxi before jumping down and sprinting towards it.
| Life has been a cliffhanger for a few days, preparing for my next challenge.
Time is on my side in these moments, I have so much time to plan this.
But it seems like danger is distant, yet it could hit in an instant.
For instance, I was just walking in slow motion and all of a sudden I fell off a cliff.
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | Sure I suppose this job is the opportunity to overcome my employment virginity that my family never fails to shame me over. I genuinely would really like to be employed and the lot, but I honestly couldn't work here, no, never. The walls are pasty, the ceiling fans are creaking, "only dumb nuts get into insurance anyways"
"Who are you calling a nut?" the bearded man with slightly too well groomed facial hair said through a mouth that was dimpled with pure joy. My face was anything but joyous, I mean sure I didn't want the job, but to be a jerk about it... how did that I let that slip out...
"Oh um uh..." all I could muster
"Hey now partner, I take no offence to your honesty, you really think I expect someone to be enthused about a male secretary position? I mean listen man its a paycheck , nothing more than that" Leaning in to shake my hand from his desk I failed to notice his warm posture signalling a greeting... I reciprocated darting like a lizard to his hand.
"Hey I'm uh real sorry"
"And I'm a real Rodney! Listen don't worry about it, lets just get started. How about that?"
"Well uh... to be honest then, I really don't want this job. I'm only here cause my my mom wants me to get a job an all that, listen you know the story I'll just go home, I really don't want to waste your time."
"Huh, hey man you know when I was your age, what are ya twenty?"
"Yeah around that, I'm twenty-two"
"Listen then, when I was your age all I did was question myself, I had no confidence, no drive, nothing kiddo!"
"Oh man, uh honestly I just think insurance is a boring gig, and being a male secretary is just a little not my speed" my head was swiveling in a jittery motion from my ever tightening neck. His face donned sympathy, I wasn't done... I couldn't just sink back in my chair at home and stair at my computer, no he was ready to accommodate me
"You know what kiddo! You need confidence and drive! Don't let the world shame you outta a job! Lucky for you your application has your moms contact info under emergency contacts, so you're getting this job regardless of your volition or intention." He was so proud of himself, he knew he was just a great person. I could tell he was satisfied. It seemed a little invasive, but you can't stop someone on a crusade sanctioned by the pope of empathy the twenty-second, god R/history is leaking into my thoughts maybe I really do need this job.
"Uh wow you are uh really insistent on this, I uh guess I can't really stop you, huh..." Well played almost slipped out too, but it wasn't a play I suppose. He Just a really wholesome dude.
"Listen squirt, You'll thank me later I promise! I'll call your mom tonight and make it more than clear to her the job is yours. You can head out now man, see you soon alright!" His manor of speaking increased in expediency and in a second I was walking out saying softly "Uh see you soon too" I felt a little violated, cause there would be no coming to head with my mom... Well damn I guess I'm employed now...
The phone rang, when the door to exit closed behind the newest employee walking to his car "Hey yup its Rodney, yeah get this! The emergency contact came through with the save, calling his mom tonight to tell her" The phone resting slyly on his ear awaiting a reply "Haha yup, guess he didn't read the reviews online! Hey his fault, we finally got the spot filled!"
| I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | "You know, casual friday is not something we take lightly around here." As he stands from his comfortable leather chair, "it might seem odd to you, but the fact that you did your homework and came in with a spongebob bottom, batman top and loafers... Tells me you've prepared for this battle. Even though your feet are resting on my desk while you slurp a gogurt and continuously stare at your phone, that tells me you've come prepared..."
"But i......"
I was cut off by certainty and aplaud.
"What you don't understand captain underpants, is i've seen your type, and studied considerable applicants. And for you to come into my office for an interview wearing that atrocity is frankly.... Unnerving and a little disrespectful."
He opens up his calvin klein bathrobe to show me his answer.
Powerpuff girls shorts with a yu-gi-oh shirt and cookie monster socks..
" you are an amateur! But welcome! We are always hiring in the mail room." | I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | Without a knock, I entered
a little office space.
Although a shock, she met me
with no sign of ill grace.
A hand outstretched, I slapped it
her eyes lit up with joy.
"Such arrogance is what we seek
in those that we employ!" | I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | The bench wasn't comfortable.
It was cheep plastic with steel frame, the kind that just don't let sit and relax.
The secretary called my name and as I stood up I realized my pants and shirt where probably one size too big for me, I felt uncomfortable.
As I walk towards the door, every piece of me just ache to be back home with my dog. Why did I had to come here anyway?! Why did I even had to show up for this interview?!
I go into the room and he doesn't get up, he doesn't shake my hand. In fact he doesn't say or do anything.
I sit in the only available chair.
God, I wish my dad was here with me.
"Name?"
"Alex."
"What role you think you'll best fit in, Alex?"
"None. I don't even want to be here."
"I'm sure we can find something for you"
"Can't you just send me home?"
"It doesn't work like that Alex. You seem like a bright lad, it'll be perfect for you, you'll see."
"You don't understand. I dispies this place, nothing good will come out of this."
"Through the door to the right and strait all the way."
"What if i refuse? What if it doesn't work out?"
"It will. I promise" he said with a genuine smile. "Now through the door and strait all the way, please."
As I walk the coridor my shoes squeak and my belt clicks. I feel heavy and hot, I will never get used to this feeling.
I open the door and enter an open area that looks like a parking lot.
They are all dressed the same, with the same haircut, the same heavy shoes and sad faces.
"STAND IN FORMATION!" a booming voice came from the speakers mounted on the walls. "ROWS OF THREE. FACE TO THE LEFT!"
As we're forming lines a tall figure stands infront of us.
"Get on the bus ladies! You're coming back as men!"
An old bus get into the parking lot. A hand written sign is hanging on the door:
"BASIC TRAINING"
First promp. Sorry for the spelling, english isn't my native. | I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | I walked into his office, he had a notepad out, "Oh hello, you must be Gareth, come in, sit down." The Mustached boss said as I walked through the door.
He seemed nice at first, but I didn't want to work at a Roadkill Removal service.
"Well, tell me Gareth, what do you like to do in your free time?" The man said as he brandished his notepad and clicked his pen.
I tried to think of the worst thing I could possibly do in my free time, "I run a prank channel on YouTube!" I said in a panic.
"Very Intriguing, what kind of pranks do you like to do?" He said as wrote down what I had just said.
"Kissing pranks, a lot of sexual stuff, my most popular one is titled 'Making out with peoples girlfriends in the hood (Gone Deadly)'." I replied.
"Hmm, sounds hot!" He creepily said whilst writing down the quote.
I was panicking, I had to think of something, "You know, I also like to start grass-fires, big ones! And sometimes I like to kill little rabbits, for no reason, I find it pleasureful." I said whilst trying to snatch my own intentional defeat from the jaws of defeat.
"Oh yeah, that's why I joined the force in the first place, I love seeing dead animals! I like you, kid! You remind me of a younger version of myself." The interviewer said enthusiastically.
He wrote it down, "You know I'm a racist, total skinhead, yep!" I said in an attempt to deter the boss from hiring me.
"Oh, no way, me too! Sieg Heil!!" he said whilst doing a Nazi salute.
I was shocked at this mans racism, "Wow, this guy is horrible!" I though as the man wrote down that I'm a skinhead.
"I'm also a Scientologist!" I said desperately to the boss.
"No way, you too!" I got up and left as he said that, I slammed the door and ran out of the building as fast as possible.
"Hmm, he seemed nice." I heard him say from outside his office. | I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | Jon was having a rough morning. First, he'd angrily smashed his antique alarm clock during the latest rendition of Pop Star Cammy's hit single, "Banal Teenage Techno-Pop Vol. 1a, Remix Special" - a song he utterly despised - when the clock awoke him at 6:00 A.M.
Then, he'd taken a hard fall out of bed, when the lopsided mattress ejected him. A skinned knee and several abrasions later, he managed a shower, some eggs, a black coffee and found his nicest shirt and tie. The shirt - an ugly, gray houndstooth affair - was missing a button, but the tie would cover that.
The interview at Tele-Corp was not his ideal job, but since he'd been let go from one of the nation's largest IT firms, he was desperate. Almost by accident, he'd seen an ad for the company in one of his dreams. He felt compelled to apply. When he received a draft notice from the government notifying him of his obligation to find a job or enter indentured servitude, he knew he had no choice. With the economy failing everywhere and wars raging all over the other side of the world, entering servitude could lead anywhere from mopping floors at a University to serving on the front lines. So it was that Jon applied for the job-with-no-description at Tele-Corp.
Jon, a diminutive man, late 30s, with hair graying around his temples, grabbed a suitcase and headed tot he train station. A few train rides later, he found himself in the inner city.
He walked a few blocks, growing increasingly apprehensive. He didn't want to work for this company, but knew he had no choice. As he approached the facade of Tele-Corp HQ, he felt resigned to his fate.
Standing in front of the sleek, tower of a building, Jon had a sudden thought. What if he botched the interview? He would go in, act as obnoxious as possible, pretend to be unqualified, and not score the job. Then, he could reply to the notice showing proof that he'd tried - and failed.
"This plan is so crazy," he said quietly to himself, "it just might work."
Smiling, Jon entered the building, was greeted by a young secretary, a gentleman in his early 20s by the look of it, and sent into the Office of Human Resources.
A large, man, heavyset, and going bald sat in a chair. As the door opened, he bellowed a greeting to Jon.
"Hello, young man! Welcome to your future!" he said, grinning, "Don't just stand there! Have a seat! I'm Hank Jenkins, Head of Personnel here at Tele-Corp. And who might you be?"
Jon rolled his eyes, looked straight at Jenkens and replied, "My name's Jon. What's this job for, fat-ass?"
Jenkins, seemingly unaffected, replied back.
"Well, son, you see, here at Tele-Corp, we have a unique problem. Sometimes our teleporters malfunction."
"Yeah, because your manufacturing is shoddy," right, Jon interrupted, "I've seen the specs. You'd be lucky to get anything to move across any distance without completely destroying at least some living tissue."
Jenkins paused for a moment, assessed Jon and let go a hearty laugh.
"So, my boy, you DO know what this position is for!"
Jon, clearly taken aback by this response, hesitated. After a tense moment, he finally asked for clarification.
"What do you mean by that, Hank?" he inquired.
"Oh, you'll see," Jenkins said as he pushed a button on his desk, "Mary, let's get Jonny Boy here some paperwork. He starts this afternoon."
"But, sir, I don't want this job! I'm only in this interview to avoid going into servitude!" Jon protested.
Jenkins, still shuffling his papers, placed one in front of Jon.
"Oh, that's just it, my boy," he said, his grin blossoming into a full-on smile, "you've already been drafted."
Jon stared, aghast at the paper lying on the desk in front of him. He read it twice before the words finally sank in.
"Dear Mr. Prescott,
It is our sad duty to report that due to under-payment of your Living Tax, you have been drafted into Servitude. Your contract has been sold to Tele-Corp. A dream message was sent to confirm this. You have no choice in the matter. By our calculations, it will be 15 years before you are paid in full for your back Living Tax. Remember you are responsible for any expenses you accrue during your tenure of Servitude. Please report for your assignment. Thank you and have a nice day.
Signed,
Anthony Errol
Treasure - Living Tax Bureau"
A few minutes passed and the office doors opened. Two men came in, dressed in blue-ish/gray uniforms and commanded Jon to stand up. Jon slowly did as he was told and followed the men into the hallway.
"Welcome to Tele-Corp," said one of the men, handing him a laser pistol, "you're gonna need this.
Jon took it, examining it for a moment. It felt sleek and good in his hand. The word, "Hunter" was emblazoned across the handle, along with the Tele-Corp logo - a booth surrounded by bright light. Jon smiled. Perhaps he was going to like this job, after all.
| I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | "Hi, thanks for coming. You're our next candidate for reincarnation. We're very excited about sending you back, same make and model, just a second pass through."
"No, I'm pretty sure I fucked it up last time."
"Nah! I gotta good feeling about you. You'll do just fine this time around."
"How could I do just fine this time around?!? I screwed up basically every decision you can make in life!"
"But you learned something right?"
"No, I'm almost certain that I didn't! If I have to go back, let me be a cat, or a rock or something, please."
"I don't know, I really think human is the right fit for you."
"Based off of what?!? I spent my life anxious and depressed, antisocial, afraid of change, and terrified of decisions. What makes you think I'll be better at it this time around?"
"I'm sorry you feel that way, but you brought a lot to the people who cared about you, that adds to the universe in a meaningful way."
"What about me? What about how I felt?"
"That adds to the universe too."
"You're not gonna let me out of this one are you?"
"Frankly? No. And if you come back early again, we'll just put you back in again. That's the way these things go."
"So, what? I'm just a cog in the universal machine? Great."
"Perhaps, and perhaps not. To be honest, I haven't figured all of this out yet either, just like you, I'm learning as I go. So how about it? You ready?"
"No."
"Ha! That's what I thought, but what can I say? Life isn't voluntary. Off you go then! Good luck!" | I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | [Contains Mild Vulgarity]
"Well Mr. Jones, I can see you're applying for our senior member position. I take it you've got the required ten years experience or some equivalent not listed on your resume?"
"Huh? No, uh, I actually just typed a hello world script once, no real world experience."
"Wonderful! Our HR staff wrote up these stupid requests but I really want an outsiders perspective on our team. Can you get started today?"
"Oh I've never done any sort of work other than manual labor. I would need at least a week of orientation. Maybe two depending on how I'm feeling."
"Sounds perfect! We can put you and our other new hire in a team to learn the ins and outs side by side! Those are exactly the kind of fresh ideas this company needs!"
"What? No, that was your idea."
"Modesty is the number one trait I look for in an underling!"
"Hey! I don't take kindly to being labeled by people who don't know me!"
"Straightforward take charge personalities are the number two trait!"
"I lied about having a job for three years on my resume expecting you to not even call my references. I've never held a job for more than three months!"
"Good, that means you're an open canvas to work with. We don't hire brainwashed goons here in our establishment."
"I mentioned I have a car? I don't, I was just planning to walk into work if I was feeling good enough that day, otherwise stay home."
"I can get you on medical as a priority to help with any chronic exhaustion or general sleepiness. Until you've fully recovered, take it one step at a time. We aim to avoid discrimination of those who wish to work."
"I think your face is stupid."
"Ha! Me too. I've been contemplating plastic surgery. I think this might just be the push I needed to go through with my decision. Thank you, you've saved me from a lifetime of wasted contemplation."
"Did Stacy put you up to this?! What did she offer you? Did she suck your cock?"
"I'm her dad."
"I'll take the job if you promise to forget I said that."
"Glad to have you." | I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | I spiraled into a deep depression when Susan left me; one where I could no longer get out of bed to show up to work. Shortly after being fired from my job, I lost my house, and moved in with my well-off brother and his wife. They didn't have any children, so at first, they didn't mind taking me in and feeding me. After about a year of living off of them, my brother decided that if I'm going to continue living there. I need to get a job. He sat behind me as I wrote up a resume, and he sent it to several places that were hiring. I wasn't ready to work, but I also wasn't ready to confess to my brother that I have completely given up on life at the moment. So what to do other than botch the interview?
I got up right around 11 in the morning, just in time to roll out of bed, and catch the bus to the office I was interviewing at. I slapped on my old college sweater, my finest cargo shorts, knee high black socks, and the most luxurious sandals in my small collection.
I would have arrived on time, but I didn't want to get hungry mid-interview, so I stopped at Chipotle and got a burrito. I jammed it into the front pocket of my sweater, and figured I'd have at it whenever I was struck with hunger.
I arrived to the office and checked in with the receptionist. She quickly became snotty when she informed me that I was 15 minutes late, and that she would need to check in with the boss to see if they would proceed with the interview. She left to go speak with him, and arrived back shortly, saying, "Alright, he's ready for you." She led me to his small office. As I opened the door; the boss didn't stand or even greet me. He looked down at his papers and excused the receptionist.
He peeled his eyes from his desk and eyed me up and down with utter disdain.
"You've got a lot of nerve showing up here like that."
I replied by taking the burrito out of pocket, and beginning to eat it while still standing at the door.
"Ole' Penn State... I'm a Stanford man ya' know..."
With a mouthful of burrito, I exclaimed, "That must mean I'm the smart one then."
He let out a rouceous laugh and invited me to sit. I declined the offer; explaining that I'd prefer to stand, as my alpha status doesn't allow me to put myself in a submissive position.
The boss stood from his desk, put his head down and in hushed tones he said, "I'm glad you've made your position here clear. I myself am not a passive man, and as such, I respect your claim to dominance. But I will in no way abide to it. If you ever try to make me your bitch, I promise you, blood will flow through the halls of this office like rivers of red." He came around from behind his desk, "Come with me." As he passed by me, he grabbed the burrito from my hands and began to eat it. He opened the door, and I followed behind. What else was I supposed to do? I was in shock as to what has occurred.
We went through the office building without uttering a single word to one another; through the halls, down the stairs, and ultimately to the parking lot. He had taken a few more bites out of my burrito on the way down, but when we got to the middle of the parking lot, he spiked it. He wound up his arm, and with half the burrito remaining, he slammed it to the pavement like a football. He loosened the tie from his neck, rolled up his sleeves, and calmly said to me, "Now is your chance to prove yourself, tough guy. Lets see who the real big shot is..."
He stepped up to me with his arms spread out wide like an eagle, "Come on alpha... lets see who you really are."
I began to speak for the first time since I initially told him I'm the alpha. My lips and body weren't working though, so I only managed to let out something that was somewhere in between and apology and a quiver.
The boss, still in my face, lightly laughed to himself. "That's what I thought."
There was a few moments of silence I attempted to break, "I think it's time for me to..."
"Stop. Talking." He cut me off. "Bathe in my strength; feel the epinephrine fill your veins, and let your mind consider the things I could do to you."
I did as I was told. He spent the next minute an inch from my face; staring into my soul.
He began speaking again, "You're afraid. I can feel it. It's not me that you're afraid of, no. It's this moment. You don't know what to do. You let yourself become my bitch, and you did as you were told, because you didn't know what would happen. And because I am not afraid of this moment, I have complete control over you. I am your daddy."
He backed off slightly and put his hand on my shoulder; "But when I looked into your eyes; I saw a strength that's not human. I saw something unreal; something that would make the strongest men feint at it's presence. I saw a true alpha-male. A lord of all things natural. I can teach you how to harness it... you start on Monday. I am your master, you are my pupil. You are not to tell anyone of our arrangement; just stick to your desk, look busy, and I will call you into my office when the time is right."
He left.
I'm not sure what the fuck happened; but I guess I got the job.
| I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | "I'm also a drug user. Copious amounts!" I can hear my own disbelief.
The interviewer shrugs. "You're in your prime, Mr. Johnson. Not many men can run the football quite as well as you."
"I have an arrest record."
"Yes, and a rushing record. That's why you're here."
"Wh...what? I'm saying I have a real problem, man. I'm a kid, mid to early 20's. I come from nothing. And now I've been given tens of millions of dollars. I don't know how to handle that kind of money or the attention that comes with it. I spent three years in a college that encouraged me to take the easiest fucking classes so I can pass and play. Most of my teammates read at a 5th grade level, some were illiterate. And now I'm... I'm in too deep, man. For fucks sake, I see my face on fucking billboards, I'm on tv! I'm a brand! My ego walks into the room before I do and it's palpable. Women throw themselves at me. And for what? It's no surprise I turn to drugs to cope. But that's what I'm saying, man. I need help... I got a problem."
"How's your knee holding up?"
"Excuse me?"
"Your knees, Mr. Johnson. They checked out in your physical but we want to hear it from you. How are your knees?"
"....They're fine, man."
"Fantastic! Sign here."
"Okay, okay. Wait... I've hit women in the past. I mean... I mean, I'm not proud of it. Not at all. I hate myself for it. Can you understand me though? My professional working life is spent pummeling others and getting pummeled on a weekly basis and tens of thousands of mongoloids watch and celebrate. Even since I was a fucking child, I have been praised by my ability to physically brutalize others. I'm not proud of it. No. But I just don't know how to handle my anger, my problems. I've never learned another way. Why? Because I've never needed to. I think I deserve something, I have an inflated sense of who I am. The truth is, I'm a barbarian. Its what people pay me to do, people like you."
"Just sign here, Mr. Johnson. Welcome to the team." | I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | This happened to me in real life. I was unemployed, and going to school. (I got to collect unemployment because I was working full time while going to school, and got laid off). I didn't want to go back to work. Unemployment office sends me a job, that I'm qualified for. Go to interview in dirty clothes, no shave, etc. I walk in and the guy doing the hiring, was a guy I used to work with. Hired me on the spot. | I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | I stared over my monitor at the newest recruit, probably for longer than absolutely necessary. I hid my sweating palms and my shaking hands behind my desk. It had gone on so long...
"Look. You have all the qualifications we're looking for. All I need is your signature, and you'll be set. But... how about we grab a coffee first?"
The young man smiled and agreed. What did he know? He wanted to get in good with whoever pulled enough weight he could make a paycheck. I understood that.
"Before you sign anything... This job isn't what you think it is. Frankly, I have no idea what it is. Nobody does. I started here almost twelve years ago. I didn't even want the position; my parents made me apply..."
---
Wearing a stained T-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, sporting a lovely three-day growth of untrimmed beard, I waltzed into Business Corporation Associates, Inc., and tossed a grubby resume on the secretary's desk. "Interview with wassname."
The secretary, full of professionalism, smiled warmly. "Mr. Manager is waiting in his office, please go through."
I shrugged through the door and plopped down sideways in a chair. Mr. Manager stood, offering his hand; I handed him my gum wrapper. All he did was chuckle and toss the wrapper in the trash. "Glad to see the youth are thinking about the environment these days," he rumbled. "Back in my day, kids just tossed their trash on the ground. Now, young man, I hear you're interested in a position here!"
I shrugged. "Meh. It wasn't my idea. Parents said I needed a job."
He chuckled again. "You listen to your parents, eh? If only my kids were as polite! Now, tell me - what are you looking for in our company?"
I locked eyes with him, holding my gaze until it was long past uncomfortable. "Nothing. Get it?"
He nodded as if I had made some deep comment, and answered, "Of course, of course. Ask not what your company can do for you, and all that. Very dedicated! What would you say to a management position?"
I stared at him incredulously. My plan had been another summer lounging around my parent's basement, playing video games. It almost sounded like this man was going to offer me a job in spite of my actions! I sat up. "No way, man. I'm not about to sign up to be some money-grubbing pencil-pusher like you."
I thought about it for a second, then just in case, added, "Corporate freak."
Mr. Manager grinned. "Good! I'm glad to hear it! Too many kids these days want a clear shot to the top, no effort. Working your way up from the bottom, that's the ticket! Learn from the little guy!"
He stood, rubbing his hands together. "Young man, I would like to introduce you to someone. Mr. Engineer. I think you'll hit it off just fine. Back in a tick, eh?"
He rounded his desk, pushed through the doors, and headed down the hall as I broke out in a cold sweat. I didn't know how to do... well, anything! Whatever they put me in, it would definitely not be video games. And if I *lost* a job... well, let's just say that it would be better to have never tried at all that to have tried and failed, no matter what . Dad was very particular about "honest work," and he was prepared to back that up. But if last year had taught me anything, it was that if I couldn't get a job, I was fine. I needed to do something. Anything. What was the worst thing I could do? I gave a sidelong glance at the leather-covered desk. Maybe... if I left an, er, gift? But just before I could unzip my pants, the door swung open. Startled and already more than a little jumpy, I whirled, bringing my fist around in a wide punch that smacked right into the face of, I presume, Mr. Engineer.
His head bounced off the wall, the door, and two chairs before it came to rest on the floor. Mr. Manager walked in to find me staring down at the unconscious, and likely wildly concussed, form. "Oh good heavens! Come with me, straight to security!"
Well, it wasn't what I'd planned, but as long as they didn't press charges, this was the best outcome I could have hoped for! Or at least, that's what I thought.
Jittery from the sudden influx of adrenaline, I missed the first part of what Mr. Manager told the security guard. I tuned in to hear him finish, "This young man laid him out with a single punch!"
Two other security officers had dashed upstairs half way through, likely trying to restore Mr. Engineer to life. The security man, a beefy, middle-aged fellow with a name tag the read "Security," and in smaller letters, "B. Security," held out his hand. Meekly, I held out both of mine... and blinked when he grabbed my right hand and started pumping it up and down. "Good work, son. I don't know how that man slipped past security, but if it wasn't for your quick wits, it might have been 1992 all over again."
As my jaw dropped in absolute horror, Mr. Manager clapped me on the shoulder. "You don't even need to sign anything, young man, we'll get it all sorted when you come in next week. Don't worry about coming in until Monday, you rest up! I'm sure this was quite the ordeal!"
I was hardly out the front door before the man I'd knocked out was being lead outside in cuffs. What had I gotten myself in to?
---
I stared down into my coffee cup. "That wasn't the worst of it, of course. When I started, I was trying to avoid work, but every time I slipped away, someone caught me brainstorming - that is, sleeping - or team-building - that is, playing video games on my work computer. Every move I made, I was praised. I got raise after raise..."
I lifted my eyes to those of the young man on the other side of the table. He seemed a little unsure of himself. "But... isn't that a dream come true?"
I leaned over the table. He flinched back. Good, he *should* be scared.
"No, kid, you don't get it. People call me every day, asking if the Paper Report is ready, or if the Sheet Documents have been signed. I make things up. I sat in on a random meeting because they had donuts, and somehow saved the company a million dollars. Or rubles. I don't know. Maybe it was Zimbabwean dollars. That's not the point, though. I've given presentations that were nothing but the blank templates, and gotten *standing ovations*. It's insane! It's mind boggling!"
The kid pushed his half-filled mug to the side, surreptitiously glancing at his watch. "So... uh... you really have no idea what you're doing?"
I shook my head. "You're not listening. *No one* knows what they're doing. No one! Everyone talks about nothing! They give vague figures, present charts and graphs that have been lifted off Google Image Search - like, the first images - and act like they know what they're doing! Everyone does it, and everyone else acts like they're the greatest thing since NASA! The whole company is mad - **mad** I tell you!"
I slumped weakly back against my chair, wiping the spittle from my lips. The kid looked a little more sure of himself, now. Maybe I gave him an out. Maybe the poor fool could get out, while there was still time.
He nodded sagely. "Ah! I understand what you're saying!"
I almost wept with relief. He understood! It wasn't just me! Finally, there was someone I could connect with, someone who-
"So you're saying it's a marketing firm - right? Awesome! When do I start?" | I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | “So, why do you think you deserve to work for us?” The interviewer asked me.
“I don’t,” I replied with cruel honesty.
The bald man, in his forties, laughed at me. I showed him a muffled expression.
“You seem like a jokester! Exactly the kind of a person we aim for!”
“I don’t want this job, you know…” Again, I need to give him the cruel honesty.
His laugh resonated through the room, once again. My face was baffled with weirdness.
“Nobody wants this job! You have just become one of my favourites!”
“Could we just get to the end, I’m feeling too lazy right now.” Another, subtle way of saying “Please, for the love of God, don’t hire me.”
The interviewer’s face was put into deep thought, as I waited for him to finish his incredibly boring ritual. That didn’t come; after about ten minutes, I was just pissed off, and since I don’t need this job, I needed to give it to him hard and cold.
“You know what, either speak right now or I’m leaving this wretched interview.”
The man stopped his thinking, stood up and yelled something I didn’t quite grasp. Someone entered the room, a tall young blond woman, gave him a piece of paper. He sat on his chair, once again, and started talking:
“You… Excellent. We need a person who wouldn’t take anyone’s shit! You are the most perfect candidate I’ve ever seen in my entire life!”
My eyebrow twitched in annoyance, I sighed. I decided to play with him, in the hopes of getting kicked out.
“Give me the most paying position with the least amount of work, I want to the top of this company.” Surely, this should piss him off.
His eyes widened, his jaw was left hanging. A tall, black and bald person entered the interviewing room, speaking with his rough, manly voice:
“Son, you are the perfect person to inherit my company and my riches.”
After that, I was given, for some reason, the ownership of this company, as well as a few billions of dollars. The person, the tall black man, was dying of cancer and wanted to give his fortunes to someone. It seemed he chose an interview like this.
I’ll have to thank my mother later, to think that her meddling in my life and controlling it, turned out to make be a billionaire… I couldn’t even imagine it in my wildest dreams!
| I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | Sixteen-year-old Theodore Cruz slouched in the cheap plastic booth, sucking the last dregs of his soda with obnoxious zeal and using a ketchup packet to paint a frowny-face on the table. In preparation for this interview, he’d donned his “Sperm Donor” T-shirt and smeared a tablespoon of lard into his hair. The look he was going for, despite his parents’ entreaties to get a job, was “unhireable,” and he was *nailing* it.
“Hi, you must be Theodore. I’m Sharona, the manager.” A moderately-attractive woman in her mid-twenties had appeared, carrying a clipboard and wearing a bright smile.
He popped his gum at her and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Hi, baby. Nice jugs. They real?”
“Why, yes they are, thanks for asking.” Her smile didn’t slip a fraction. She slid into the seat across from him, careful to place her paperwork away from his ketchup puddle.
“So, why do you want to work for the Sandwich Duke? You left that question blank, along with most of the other questions.”
“I dunno. Guess I’d like to steal food when no one’s watching.” He pulled out his gum, examined it, and stuck it under the table.
“Ah, an opportunist. You’ll be happy to know that the camera beside the back fryer is broken, so you’ll be able to help yourself. Within reason, of course.” She made a tiny note on her clipboard.
“This question’s just for fun, to help me get to know you better: if you were a food, what would you be and why?”
“Dog. Chinks eat dogs, so why can’t we? I think it’d be cool to eat something that would make all those sissy animal lovers lose their shit.”
Sharona fiddled with the silver cat pin on her lapel and frowned, her composure cracking slightly for the first time. “Yes, well, alright…I like a man who can think outside the box. Last question: what would you say your greatest strength is?”
He yawned. “I’m really good at finding ways around the school firewall to stream porn in class. I sell my secrets to the other losers for beer money. Even though they’re totally loaded, my parents are real tightwads.”
“I see. It sounds like you’re a real entrepreneur. Good thing you’ll be drawing a real paycheck soon. Welcome aboard!” She stuck out a hand to shake, once more grinning broadly at him.
He gaped at her speechlessly, resembling a wide-mouth bass that has swallowed a hook. He was so stunned that he forgot to be rude as he accepted his new uniform and tentative schedule. Sharona watched the little asshat go, already calculating ways to maximize his misery for the three months she had him until school started again. She thought that scraping all of the gum out from under the tables would be a good place to start. Maybe the little toerag would quit – if he did, it wasn’t her fault.
She watched the kid climb into his dad’s brand-new sports car and marveled to herself at the peculiar behavior of the very rich. Who else would have paid her five grand to hire their stupid kid? For that kind of money, she would put up with a lot of bullshit for twenty hours a week. Maybe they'd even do it again next summer. | I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | The water bottle was obviously full of something other than water. I took small sips in the waiting room, the smell of vodka stinging my eyes even with the orange juice to water it down.
I had somewhere to be and it wasn’t in a job interview.
“It’s good practice,” my wife had encouraged. “You just need to get back on that horse and give it a try.” She’d told me when I was asked to come in for the job.
“I don’t think I want it,” I’d confided in her. But there was no arguing with her at that point.
“Joseph Gordons?” The receptionist called my name. A tall thin man stood next to her, a dour look on his face. He shook my hand wordlessly and gestured for me to follow him. I ambled along behind him into a tight conference room. The lighting was fluorescent and room dingy. I half wanted to leave right then but I’d promised my wife I’d stay.
“Joseph, good of you to come in,” the man said. “I’m Hank Norbitt, I do the hiring for the programming department, I find that HR doesn’t really understand programmers.” His voice reminded me of Eeyore. Once I started thinking about the sad donkey I could also see a resemblance in his expression.
We settled into chairs on the corner of the table. I leaned my left arm on the table and set the water bottle down. Hank got comfortable as I began to speak.
“I understand that some programmers have social issues, I’m not really one of them. I paid for university working as a bartender and spent all kinds of time with people, at the bar, after the bar. The morning before going back to work,” I replied probably too honestly. I’d told my wife I’d give it an honest try but I wanted to tank the interview and go. “I met my wife bartending.”
“Was that a bar in town?”
“Yea, Phil’s by Laurier. I learned a lot of skills there I’ve found applicable in other places,” I took a sip of my screwdriver before continuing. Hank leaned forward seeming intrigued. I’d led him here and prepared to drop an answer that’ll have him excusing me. “I learned how to keep my mouth shut, the bikers used to deal coke out of the back and I needed to make sure I didn’t show up on their radar. I learned how to break up a fight – you never know when you’ll need to convince a man to drop a knife. Every Friday these days it seems.”
“You like to go out then? Party?” Hank’s eyes lit up, I was a little concerned that he was getting too into my answers.
“Sometimes. I don’t do drugs anymore, almost OD’d at my last job – that’s why I’m looking for work, had some trouble with painkillers and needed to take some time off, get better,” I was lying now.
“Now that’s interesting, you sound like you’re very good at recognizing your own flaws, that’s a strong quality in an employee,” Hank seemed far too into what I was saying and I wanted to get him to let me go.
“I can see where I’ve fallen down, unless I’ve had too much to drink!” I exclaimed and laughed a bit louder than I probably should have.
“Well, I do have some questions for you,” Hank glanced at the sheet in front of him, “first, if you could be any animal what would you be?”
“I’d be a duck, their penises are the ultimate multi-tool,” I replied, half-serious. The alcohol was having the desired effect and I wasn’t tasting the vodka as much now. I committed to myself that I’d answer the questions quickly and just move through this stupid formality. I glanced at my watch – I needed to be out of here in ten minutes.
“Oh that’s an original one, love that, I’ll have to use it sometime. Next what is your greatest weakness?” Hank asked with a smile.
“Alcoholism.”
“I appreciate the honesty. I like that in an employee. Now how many gas stations do you think are in the US?”
“At least 12.”
“Well you’re not wrong, and I supposed that’s what I get for asking a programmer that question – you’re up on your internet jokes right?” Hank laughed at his own comment, my grim expression started to break and I smiled with him for a moment. I took a swig of the alcohol. “Where do you see yourself in five years?”
Five years. I used to know where I’d be, until a week ago I’d have had an answer. “I don’t,” the smile that had been growing was lost again. Hank’s laid a hand on my arm.
“If you need to talk…”
“I think it’d be best if we move on with the questions, I don’t like to bring personal issues into work,” I interrupted. I didn’t know him and didn’t need this right now.
“Right, ok. How honest would you say you are?”
“Very,” I didn’t think I needed to elaborate, I’ve only told a couple lies so far.
“Alright, last one – how would your family feel about you working long hours?”
“I don’t have a family,” I replied without explanation.
“You mentioned your wife,” he began.
“She’s dead.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Hank replied. His look quizzical and I knew what was coming next. One of two questions that I’d been asked so many times recently.
“Drunk driver hit her car two days ago. She kicked it. I actually need to go now. Her visitation starts in half an hour and it’s a twenty minute drive,” I replied, standing. I wobbled a bit. I didn’t mean to but I did.
“Are you…”
“Driving? No, I’m not the goddamn moron who killed her.”
“I’ll give you a call, about the job, but can I ask one last question?” Hank watched me. I hesitated and nodded, “why did you take the interview? Why not cancel or reschedule?”
“I made my wife a promise that I’d come,” I replied. “I don’t think her death releases me from that.”
| I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | I let out a hefty burp as the barman took away my last pint. My seventh pint. Now, now I was ready. I didn't so much as hop off my stool, as fall off my stool, but I regained my balance, nodded again at the bemused barman, and made my dragging tracks out of the pub.
3:06pm. I was already six minutes late. Fantastic! And it had only taken me just over an hour to down those six pints. Was it seven? I actually felt pretty good then, I'd have to push that pervasive feeling down into my belly before I got in.
I skipped merrily into the building, before reminding myself that I didn't want to show too much enthusiasm. I burped again, openly. The sound echoed around the dusty old corridor I was making my way through, hopefully just far enough to reach into the main stage area. And then I was in the actual theatre, that hadn't taken so long. Things were a little fuzzy.
"Hello!" I shouted, muting myself quickly. Too friendly. Way too friendly. "I'm here for the...the audition." I gulped out, swaying slightly. A young, quite attracti-no, get the goggles off-mousy little woman with a clipboard hushed me. I thought she was the noisy one. Both of her was.
"The director's already auditioning someone, you-"
She was cut off by the director, who's head had turned from the stage to me. I think he was wearing clothes. It's only conjecture at this point.
"Now THAT is the kind of bold entrance I'm looking for!" He turned back to the man auditioning. "Get the fuck off my stage, kindly, darling." Back to me. "Well? I recognise your headshot's, your agent was awfully keen that we see you. I didn't see it myself but now..." He was balding, actually quite attrac-NO-focus on fucking it up, fuck. Focus on something.
I walked along the walls and the seats of the place it seemed as the revolving theatre steadily decided to pulse in time with my steps as I walked along the walls and the seats and the of place as I walked along-
"Have you learnt the audition piece?"
What? Hadn't bothered looking. When did I get on the stage? I didn't want to work yet, it was too soon. Fuck my agent. Maybe I should fuck my agent.
"Maybe I should fuck my agent?"
Was that my outside head voice?
"You're a bit of a wildcard aren't you? Forget the piece, I like what I see. I want to workshop this with you."
No, no, no. That was a good start, I didn't DO good starts. I had to rectify this. By completely throwing it. No time for subtlety. But Janice, she wouldn't represent me anymore in the future if I made it obvious? Did I care? I had to care...I couldn't set myself back eleven years representation wise, but I needed more time off.
"I'm going to be honesht...excuse me...with you mate. I'm pissed."
Silence. That was good right? Why was he smiling wider?
"Oh yes!" He enthused, raising his hands up. How many fingers? "So. Am. I DARLING! That's why we're doing this isn't it? To show them how pissed off we are. We'll make them really *think* about it before they do it to they're own families in the future!"
What was this? He hadn't understood, the prick. I didn't want to think about families. Why did everyone want to talk about-
"No." I said, trying to strike a defiant pose. I nailed it. "I'm pissed."
More silence, yet. Yes?
"I'm fucked. I'm trollied. I'm smashed. Drunk. As the probervial...skunk." I smiled at my own...well that wasn't really a joke was it? No don't smile! "No, you need to stop smiling too!" Out of the head voice again. Didn't matter. I had to throw it now.
"Ooooh! Lynn, make a note of this man here! We've got ourselves a method actor! I love it! You know, it's this kind of bravery that I've been searching for these past two weeks. It's splendid. Show me angry!"
"OH FUCK OFF!" I roared, who was this-Wait! No! Wrong timing! I burped again and tripped over a rope that wasn't there. "I'm actually really nice."
The director jumped out of his seat and squealed. The man squealed. It was adorable really but I was not doing the best job at doing the worst job like I'd hoped.
"Oh I'm sure you are, but I can feel that power behind you, that burning intensity. I shouldn't be saying this but you're the best *fucking* fit for this part we've had on that stage yet. I just need to get a glimpse of your-"
"No...please no!" I wailed, dropping to my knee's in a manner I wished I could summon when I really wanted a part. "I can't do this. I'm just. Not. Ready. Yet."
"YES!!!" The director squealed, no screeched, no screamed. "Your sensitive side is *BRILLIANT*! You've got the part! Lynn, mark him down for the drunken, broken father role, I don't want to see anyone else, let's go for a coffee, I'm sick of this fucking space."
I blinked and he was gone.
Did he say.
Drunken. Broken.
Father? | I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | Silence resounded from every corner of the room. Such a quiet place to work, Sam thought. Though he may need to suffer through this interview, Sam took comfort in the knowledge that he would need not endure such silence every day.
The room itself was plain enough. No larger than Sam’s own bedroom, the walls were bare, and the furnishings sparse. A thick, crude table of oak separated the uncomfortable chair in which Sam sat from the identical chair where the gruff, middle-aged man sat glaring at him. A lamp in the far corner of the room, behind this man, abated only a little of the darkness, leaving the man’s face mostly concealed in shadow. In this gloom, Sam could only make out the man’s broad shoulders, his square head, and, most significantly, the absence of a left hand. Sam marveled at the size of this man, and speculated that he must have had a more physical sort of career before heading this newspaper.
The silence that had fostered Sam’s stream of thought was broken abruptly when the man cleared his throat with a rough growl.
“Mr. Clark?” the man asked.
Sam prepared to reply, but it seemed this was no question.
“I am to understand that you are a writer?”
Sam shrugged. Perhaps if I merely keep silent, they’ll have no reason to hire me. Sam only desired to write freely, but his mother had forced this interview upon him when it had been over three months since his last royalties had trickled in.
“You are the author of ‘The Final Storm’?”
Sam nodded hesitantly, confused. “How- well- it is not finished. There is only an incomplete manuscript at my house...” Sam’s voice trailed off until silence had filled the room once again.
“This is a very invigorating work, Mr. Clark.”
Sam suddenly wished there were fewer shadows present to conceal this man’s expression. His tone was in some ways unnerving.
“To be quite honest, Mr. uh, sir...it’s really not spectacular in any regard. I- uh, am in reality quite a mediocre writer. I-“
The man held up the stump that had once been his left hand.
“No, no Mr. Clark, I think I like this work of yours.” A small light seemed to glint off the man’s right eye for a moment, and it seemed to Sam that a smile may have flashed somewhere in the shadows that were his face. “The story is of a quality we rarely see. It seems to contain more emotion and truth than one typically finds in such works.”
This interview was too full of praise for Sam’s taste. He needed to end this interview soon. “Really, sir, to put it bluntly, the story is a piece of rubbish. I’d imagine any high school student could write a more gripping story in their general English course.”
Again, the man seemed to smile slightly from within his shadow. This annoyed Sam. If he was offered a position here, he would have to take it. If he didn’t, his mom would likely force him out of the house. Sam had no desire to write for a stupid local newspaper.
The man sat in contemplation for some amount of time, scratching the stump of his left hand. “The villain in this story of yours, Mr. Clark, is very well conceived. We need more of such ability here. Our current writers are particularly drab.”
Sam hesitated. “Well, the villain is actually based off of a real person. I wouldn’t have the creativity to create such a character. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of-”
The man held up his stump again. “Yes, I have heard of the Lumberjack.” He laughed a rough, chilling laugh. “You seem to have done much research on this man.”
The interviewer was a friend of a friend of Sam’s mother, and, as such, it was bothersome that he knew so much of Sam’s incomplete novel. “I only need a few more weeks to finish,” he had told his mom, and yet she had still forced this interview upon him.
“Can you remind me, Mr. Clark, of how this Lumberjack operates?”
“Uh, well he is a failure of a writer who takes out his frustration on publishers who reject him.”
“And how so, Mr. Clark?” The man’s stump twitched slightly. He seemed to be grinning again, wider than before. Sam found it disconcerting that the Lumberjack was also missing a hand, but remembered that, fortunately, it was in fact his right hand, not the left.
“Well, uh, he uses his one good hand to saw off the hands of the publisher, and then-“
A sharp knock on the door behind Sam cut him off.
“Sam, honey, that man from the publishing company is here to see you,” called some woman. Sam remembered now. The publishing company that had rejected his most recent, futile effort at a novel. The publishing company that Sam had pitifully begged to meet with in person.
The man in the mirror laughed. For the first time, Sam noticed a hand saw on the table.
“Tell him to come in,” Sam called back. | I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | An ordinary man would not stand a chance. The lone farmer tilling his land, baking under the twin suns of the Kingdom of Ankharra, had his head down. His gaze was fixed upon the soil, his mind focused upon the task. His farm dog was busy chasing butterflies, too distracted to scent the hostile magic boiling in the clearing nearby.
But Faron Bitters was not an ordinary man.
Three lightning bolts were unleashed simultaneously from the surrounding forests, each angled to ensure that even if their target could dodge one, the others would find their mark. The hissing snap of boiling air followed closely in their wake, rustling leaves, churning dust devils. Each spell was potent enough, deadly enough to fell a fully grown orc.
Faron caught the first one easily, crushing it into motes of light with his callused fist. His plough, set free, took its time to fall gracefully to the ground.
The second spell spilled against the barrier encasing Faron, winking out of power as its energies were spent trying to overcome the immovable.
The final spell froze in midair, hovering at eye-level, straining to reach its destination. It shimmered, an angry scar of azure, like a rat trapped between glass plates. Faron lifted his hat, fanned himself, then walked around the imprisoned spell, examining it closely.
“Well woven,” he said, as he replaced his hat upon his head. “Two parts power, one part mobility – Illuma’s Ideal for battlemagic. Novices tend to pour too much power into their spells, forgetting that their spells actually have to hit somebody to be effective. Not many remain today who can spellweave this elegantly. To whom do I owe the honour?”
Though the suns still hung at their highest in the skies, six shadowy figures emerged from amongst the trees. For a second Faron thought his eyes were tired, but then he realised the reason why he couldn’t focus on them easily, was because each of them had shrouded themselves. He knew that if his concentration slipped, they would disappear, right before his eyes.
“Master Bitters,” said the tallest one. He pulled back his shroud, and Faron noted the pale skin, thinning hair, shrunken flesh. He looked as if he had just emerged from a prolonged stay in the catacombs. “We’re… sorry we had to resort to that. We had to be sure that you were the one we were seeking.”
Faron laughed. “And if I wasn’t? Would you have fried some poor farmer out here in the sticks just to sate your curiosity?”
“I’m Magister Kellway, and we are here to seek your – ”
Faron chose that moment to strike. He had hazarded that they meant him no harm – why else would they yield after the first feint, then reveal themselves? But he could not rule out mischief, or treachery, and so he chose prudence.
Like a golden arrow, Faron sped towards the entourage, closing the distance before they could react. Two of them, the sharper ones, tried to throw up their defences, but Faron was too fast for them. By the time the dust settled, five were on the ground, bound and disabled. The one who called himself Kellway dangled off the ground, twisting in the air as Faron gripped his neck.
“Seek what from me?” asked Faron. “Choose your words carefully. I happen to want to be left alone.”
Kellway held up his hands, then shut off the valves to his power. Faron recognised the timeless sign of surrender, and let go. “We need your help,” said Kellway, on his knees, coughing and rubbing his throat. “The Kingdom needs you again, Master Bitters.”
“I’m done with all that,” said Faron. “I’ve done my part. It’s time for the next generation to step up, don’t you think?”
“You rid the land of great evil once,” said Kellway, “and we only ask that you help us again.”
“I’ve earned my right to be left alone,” said Faron, rubbing his temples. “I’ve given too much, sacrificed it all.”
“You are still strong! You can still serve!”
“I’ve not fought a single goblin in years! I’m not sure I can even do simple Sixth Order spells anymore, forget about the more complex ones!”
“You stopped us! You clearly have what it takes!”
Faron’s brow creased in irritation. “Surely there are others who can do what you want? Seek out the Cabal! They are the Queen’s personal magicians! They are the charged protectors of the land!”
“We… see for yourself, Master Bitters,” said Kellway. He snapped his fingers, and the shadows fell away from his body, and from the bodies of his comrades on the ground. Faron saw then, the dulled sigils pinned upon their cloaks, which marked them incontrovertibly for Cabal.
Faron saw too, that no man amongst the six was complete. Some were missing their hands, some their legs. He had laughed in the face of a grolluc, had shrugged off a rampaging wyrm, but the stench of utter defeat which clung to these six Cabal turned his stomach, crawled his skin… and chilled his heart.
“If you are what’s left of the Cabal,” Faron said, urgency creeping into his voice, “where is the Queen? Is she safe? I have a lifelink to her! I would know if she was in danger, but I have not sensed anything!”
Kellway tried to rise from his knees, and almost lost his footing. Faron gripped the man, steadied him, and saw up close the deep scars upon his body, his missing ear, his clouded eye.
“The Queen, you say? Your daughter that you entrusted the Kingdom to?” asked Kellway. “The Bringer of Light, the Warmer of Hearts? She Who Loves, the Land’s Mother?” Kellway shook his head, and the tears spilled down his cheeks. He scrabbled for Faron’s sleeves, then pulled on them, desperately, angrily.
“She was the one who did this to us, Master Bitters. The benefactor has become the tyrant. Please, do what you did once for this land, and set it free again. Only you can stop her.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny | I walked in the door and sat down without shaking his extended hand. Didn't even show up until thirty minutes late with my hair ruffled and slouching in my chair before this suit&tie big boy. His response?
We need you.
Um.excuse me? You want to know my name first? I don't even remember who the lady said your name is.
You do what you want, not what you're expected to do. I was just like you.
Condescending. I gave him the middle finger.
Bold!
I put up another one.
I like that. We need a younger image. Agitate the status-quo, know what I mean?
I didn't say a word. I wanted to make this awkward.
Huh? Right? You know?
Oh, he feels it. Let's see if he sweats.
Okay....
He is getting up from his seat. He's walking toward me. Leaning at the front of his desk, hands folded at the front. He seems like a clean man. I'll insult his hygiene. Hey, Back up. You stink. Did you fart or do you always smell like this?
Honesty! Haha haha and humor!
He points at me and snaps. What is that. Stop talking! Your breath is offensive!
We'll make whatever accommodations you need.
Oh no. He's using sign language. I wish I didn't understand. I'll just pretend I don't.
When can you start?
I shrug my shoulders and lift my hands, showing I don't understand.
Then call me whenever you're ready. I'll reserve the position for you. Here's my daughter's business card too in case you're single.
She is hot. I signed back, I can start tomorrow.
Great to have you on board!
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | Sure I suppose this job is the opportunity to overcome my employment virginity that my family never fails to shame me over. I genuinely would really like to be employed and the lot, but I honestly couldn't work here, no, never. The walls are pasty, the ceiling fans are creaking, "only dumb nuts get into insurance anyways"
"Who are you calling a nut?" the bearded man with slightly too well groomed facial hair said through a mouth that was dimpled with pure joy. My face was anything but joyous, I mean sure I didn't want the job, but to be a jerk about it... how did that I let that slip out...
"Oh um uh..." all I could muster
"Hey now partner, I take no offence to your honesty, you really think I expect someone to be enthused about a male secretary position? I mean listen man its a paycheck , nothing more than that" Leaning in to shake my hand from his desk I failed to notice his warm posture signalling a greeting... I reciprocated darting like a lizard to his hand.
"Hey I'm uh real sorry"
"And I'm a real Rodney! Listen don't worry about it, lets just get started. How about that?"
"Well uh... to be honest then, I really don't want this job. I'm only here cause my my mom wants me to get a job an all that, listen you know the story I'll just go home, I really don't want to waste your time."
"Huh, hey man you know when I was your age, what are ya twenty?"
"Yeah around that, I'm twenty-two"
"Listen then, when I was your age all I did was question myself, I had no confidence, no drive, nothing kiddo!"
"Oh man, uh honestly I just think insurance is a boring gig, and being a male secretary is just a little not my speed" my head was swiveling in a jittery motion from my ever tightening neck. His face donned sympathy, I wasn't done... I couldn't just sink back in my chair at home and stair at my computer, no he was ready to accommodate me
"You know what kiddo! You need confidence and drive! Don't let the world shame you outta a job! Lucky for you your application has your moms contact info under emergency contacts, so you're getting this job regardless of your volition or intention." He was so proud of himself, he knew he was just a great person. I could tell he was satisfied. It seemed a little invasive, but you can't stop someone on a crusade sanctioned by the pope of empathy the twenty-second, god R/history is leaking into my thoughts maybe I really do need this job.
"Uh wow you are uh really insistent on this, I uh guess I can't really stop you, huh..." Well played almost slipped out too, but it wasn't a play I suppose. He Just a really wholesome dude.
"Listen squirt, You'll thank me later I promise! I'll call your mom tonight and make it more than clear to her the job is yours. You can head out now man, see you soon alright!" His manor of speaking increased in expediency and in a second I was walking out saying softly "Uh see you soon too" I felt a little violated, cause there would be no coming to head with my mom... Well damn I guess I'm employed now...
The phone rang, when the door to exit closed behind the newest employee walking to his car "Hey yup its Rodney, yeah get this! The emergency contact came through with the save, calling his mom tonight to tell her" The phone resting slyly on his ear awaiting a reply "Haha yup, guess he didn't read the reviews online! Hey his fault, we finally got the spot filled!"
| I could hear the florencent lights hum as I stared down at the offer sheet, the crisp white paper and bold dark print. The reward offered for this job was more than I made the entire time I was alive but yet I knew I shouldn’t take it, couldn’t take it.
“Are you not happy with the terms Jimmy? We can still do a little better, if that’s what it takes” says the weirdly cold but yet high pitched voice from across the steel table. The smile painted on his face is too wide to be real and could have only come from thousands of years of sitting in that same seat and saying that same line to the other Jimmys to make his acquaintance. Do you think they said yes, do you think they tried to get their pot sweetened?
I stammer out a no and try to push the offer back to him. “How many times do I have to explain that…” is all I can get out before he taps the edge of the table with his finger. This simple act, something I had done myself when bored, caused me to freeze mid-sentence. My tone quickly changed, knowing my body couldn’t handle what it meant to draw a second stroke of his long bony digit down on the table.
*first prompt, what the hell.
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | "You know, casual friday is not something we take lightly around here." As he stands from his comfortable leather chair, "it might seem odd to you, but the fact that you did your homework and came in with a spongebob bottom, batman top and loafers... Tells me you've prepared for this battle. Even though your feet are resting on my desk while you slurp a gogurt and continuously stare at your phone, that tells me you've come prepared..."
"But i......"
I was cut off by certainty and aplaud.
"What you don't understand captain underpants, is i've seen your type, and studied considerable applicants. And for you to come into my office for an interview wearing that atrocity is frankly.... Unnerving and a little disrespectful."
He opens up his calvin klein bathrobe to show me his answer.
Powerpuff girls shorts with a yu-gi-oh shirt and cookie monster socks..
" you are an amateur! But welcome! We are always hiring in the mail room." | I could hear the florencent lights hum as I stared down at the offer sheet, the crisp white paper and bold dark print. The reward offered for this job was more than I made the entire time I was alive but yet I knew I shouldn’t take it, couldn’t take it.
“Are you not happy with the terms Jimmy? We can still do a little better, if that’s what it takes” says the weirdly cold but yet high pitched voice from across the steel table. The smile painted on his face is too wide to be real and could have only come from thousands of years of sitting in that same seat and saying that same line to the other Jimmys to make his acquaintance. Do you think they said yes, do you think they tried to get their pot sweetened?
I stammer out a no and try to push the offer back to him. “How many times do I have to explain that…” is all I can get out before he taps the edge of the table with his finger. This simple act, something I had done myself when bored, caused me to freeze mid-sentence. My tone quickly changed, knowing my body couldn’t handle what it meant to draw a second stroke of his long bony digit down on the table.
*first prompt, what the hell.
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | Without a knock, I entered
a little office space.
Although a shock, she met me
with no sign of ill grace.
A hand outstretched, I slapped it
her eyes lit up with joy.
"Such arrogance is what we seek
in those that we employ!" | I could hear the florencent lights hum as I stared down at the offer sheet, the crisp white paper and bold dark print. The reward offered for this job was more than I made the entire time I was alive but yet I knew I shouldn’t take it, couldn’t take it.
“Are you not happy with the terms Jimmy? We can still do a little better, if that’s what it takes” says the weirdly cold but yet high pitched voice from across the steel table. The smile painted on his face is too wide to be real and could have only come from thousands of years of sitting in that same seat and saying that same line to the other Jimmys to make his acquaintance. Do you think they said yes, do you think they tried to get their pot sweetened?
I stammer out a no and try to push the offer back to him. “How many times do I have to explain that…” is all I can get out before he taps the edge of the table with his finger. This simple act, something I had done myself when bored, caused me to freeze mid-sentence. My tone quickly changed, knowing my body couldn’t handle what it meant to draw a second stroke of his long bony digit down on the table.
*first prompt, what the hell.
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[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | The bench wasn't comfortable.
It was cheep plastic with steel frame, the kind that just don't let sit and relax.
The secretary called my name and as I stood up I realized my pants and shirt where probably one size too big for me, I felt uncomfortable.
As I walk towards the door, every piece of me just ache to be back home with my dog. Why did I had to come here anyway?! Why did I even had to show up for this interview?!
I go into the room and he doesn't get up, he doesn't shake my hand. In fact he doesn't say or do anything.
I sit in the only available chair.
God, I wish my dad was here with me.
"Name?"
"Alex."
"What role you think you'll best fit in, Alex?"
"None. I don't even want to be here."
"I'm sure we can find something for you"
"Can't you just send me home?"
"It doesn't work like that Alex. You seem like a bright lad, it'll be perfect for you, you'll see."
"You don't understand. I dispies this place, nothing good will come out of this."
"Through the door to the right and strait all the way."
"What if i refuse? What if it doesn't work out?"
"It will. I promise" he said with a genuine smile. "Now through the door and strait all the way, please."
As I walk the coridor my shoes squeak and my belt clicks. I feel heavy and hot, I will never get used to this feeling.
I open the door and enter an open area that looks like a parking lot.
They are all dressed the same, with the same haircut, the same heavy shoes and sad faces.
"STAND IN FORMATION!" a booming voice came from the speakers mounted on the walls. "ROWS OF THREE. FACE TO THE LEFT!"
As we're forming lines a tall figure stands infront of us.
"Get on the bus ladies! You're coming back as men!"
An old bus get into the parking lot. A hand written sign is hanging on the door:
"BASIC TRAINING"
First promp. Sorry for the spelling, english isn't my native. | I could hear the florencent lights hum as I stared down at the offer sheet, the crisp white paper and bold dark print. The reward offered for this job was more than I made the entire time I was alive but yet I knew I shouldn’t take it, couldn’t take it.
“Are you not happy with the terms Jimmy? We can still do a little better, if that’s what it takes” says the weirdly cold but yet high pitched voice from across the steel table. The smile painted on his face is too wide to be real and could have only come from thousands of years of sitting in that same seat and saying that same line to the other Jimmys to make his acquaintance. Do you think they said yes, do you think they tried to get their pot sweetened?
I stammer out a no and try to push the offer back to him. “How many times do I have to explain that…” is all I can get out before he taps the edge of the table with his finger. This simple act, something I had done myself when bored, caused me to freeze mid-sentence. My tone quickly changed, knowing my body couldn’t handle what it meant to draw a second stroke of his long bony digit down on the table.
*first prompt, what the hell.
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[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | I walked into his office, he had a notepad out, "Oh hello, you must be Gareth, come in, sit down." The Mustached boss said as I walked through the door.
He seemed nice at first, but I didn't want to work at a Roadkill Removal service.
"Well, tell me Gareth, what do you like to do in your free time?" The man said as he brandished his notepad and clicked his pen.
I tried to think of the worst thing I could possibly do in my free time, "I run a prank channel on YouTube!" I said in a panic.
"Very Intriguing, what kind of pranks do you like to do?" He said as wrote down what I had just said.
"Kissing pranks, a lot of sexual stuff, my most popular one is titled 'Making out with peoples girlfriends in the hood (Gone Deadly)'." I replied.
"Hmm, sounds hot!" He creepily said whilst writing down the quote.
I was panicking, I had to think of something, "You know, I also like to start grass-fires, big ones! And sometimes I like to kill little rabbits, for no reason, I find it pleasureful." I said whilst trying to snatch my own intentional defeat from the jaws of defeat.
"Oh yeah, that's why I joined the force in the first place, I love seeing dead animals! I like you, kid! You remind me of a younger version of myself." The interviewer said enthusiastically.
He wrote it down, "You know I'm a racist, total skinhead, yep!" I said in an attempt to deter the boss from hiring me.
"Oh, no way, me too! Sieg Heil!!" he said whilst doing a Nazi salute.
I was shocked at this mans racism, "Wow, this guy is horrible!" I though as the man wrote down that I'm a skinhead.
"I'm also a Scientologist!" I said desperately to the boss.
"No way, you too!" I got up and left as he said that, I slammed the door and ran out of the building as fast as possible.
"Hmm, he seemed nice." I heard him say from outside his office. | I could hear the florencent lights hum as I stared down at the offer sheet, the crisp white paper and bold dark print. The reward offered for this job was more than I made the entire time I was alive but yet I knew I shouldn’t take it, couldn’t take it.
“Are you not happy with the terms Jimmy? We can still do a little better, if that’s what it takes” says the weirdly cold but yet high pitched voice from across the steel table. The smile painted on his face is too wide to be real and could have only come from thousands of years of sitting in that same seat and saying that same line to the other Jimmys to make his acquaintance. Do you think they said yes, do you think they tried to get their pot sweetened?
I stammer out a no and try to push the offer back to him. “How many times do I have to explain that…” is all I can get out before he taps the edge of the table with his finger. This simple act, something I had done myself when bored, caused me to freeze mid-sentence. My tone quickly changed, knowing my body couldn’t handle what it meant to draw a second stroke of his long bony digit down on the table.
*first prompt, what the hell.
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[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | "Hi, thanks for coming. You're our next candidate for reincarnation. We're very excited about sending you back, same make and model, just a second pass through."
"No, I'm pretty sure I fucked it up last time."
"Nah! I gotta good feeling about you. You'll do just fine this time around."
"How could I do just fine this time around?!? I screwed up basically every decision you can make in life!"
"But you learned something right?"
"No, I'm almost certain that I didn't! If I have to go back, let me be a cat, or a rock or something, please."
"I don't know, I really think human is the right fit for you."
"Based off of what?!? I spent my life anxious and depressed, antisocial, afraid of change, and terrified of decisions. What makes you think I'll be better at it this time around?"
"I'm sorry you feel that way, but you brought a lot to the people who cared about you, that adds to the universe in a meaningful way."
"What about me? What about how I felt?"
"That adds to the universe too."
"You're not gonna let me out of this one are you?"
"Frankly? No. And if you come back early again, we'll just put you back in again. That's the way these things go."
"So, what? I'm just a cog in the universal machine? Great."
"Perhaps, and perhaps not. To be honest, I haven't figured all of this out yet either, just like you, I'm learning as I go. So how about it? You ready?"
"No."
"Ha! That's what I thought, but what can I say? Life isn't voluntary. Off you go then! Good luck!" | I could hear the florencent lights hum as I stared down at the offer sheet, the crisp white paper and bold dark print. The reward offered for this job was more than I made the entire time I was alive but yet I knew I shouldn’t take it, couldn’t take it.
“Are you not happy with the terms Jimmy? We can still do a little better, if that’s what it takes” says the weirdly cold but yet high pitched voice from across the steel table. The smile painted on his face is too wide to be real and could have only come from thousands of years of sitting in that same seat and saying that same line to the other Jimmys to make his acquaintance. Do you think they said yes, do you think they tried to get their pot sweetened?
I stammer out a no and try to push the offer back to him. “How many times do I have to explain that…” is all I can get out before he taps the edge of the table with his finger. This simple act, something I had done myself when bored, caused me to freeze mid-sentence. My tone quickly changed, knowing my body couldn’t handle what it meant to draw a second stroke of his long bony digit down on the table.
*first prompt, what the hell.
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[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | [Contains Mild Vulgarity]
"Well Mr. Jones, I can see you're applying for our senior member position. I take it you've got the required ten years experience or some equivalent not listed on your resume?"
"Huh? No, uh, I actually just typed a hello world script once, no real world experience."
"Wonderful! Our HR staff wrote up these stupid requests but I really want an outsiders perspective on our team. Can you get started today?"
"Oh I've never done any sort of work other than manual labor. I would need at least a week of orientation. Maybe two depending on how I'm feeling."
"Sounds perfect! We can put you and our other new hire in a team to learn the ins and outs side by side! Those are exactly the kind of fresh ideas this company needs!"
"What? No, that was your idea."
"Modesty is the number one trait I look for in an underling!"
"Hey! I don't take kindly to being labeled by people who don't know me!"
"Straightforward take charge personalities are the number two trait!"
"I lied about having a job for three years on my resume expecting you to not even call my references. I've never held a job for more than three months!"
"Good, that means you're an open canvas to work with. We don't hire brainwashed goons here in our establishment."
"I mentioned I have a car? I don't, I was just planning to walk into work if I was feeling good enough that day, otherwise stay home."
"I can get you on medical as a priority to help with any chronic exhaustion or general sleepiness. Until you've fully recovered, take it one step at a time. We aim to avoid discrimination of those who wish to work."
"I think your face is stupid."
"Ha! Me too. I've been contemplating plastic surgery. I think this might just be the push I needed to go through with my decision. Thank you, you've saved me from a lifetime of wasted contemplation."
"Did Stacy put you up to this?! What did she offer you? Did she suck your cock?"
"I'm her dad."
"I'll take the job if you promise to forget I said that."
"Glad to have you." | I could hear the florencent lights hum as I stared down at the offer sheet, the crisp white paper and bold dark print. The reward offered for this job was more than I made the entire time I was alive but yet I knew I shouldn’t take it, couldn’t take it.
“Are you not happy with the terms Jimmy? We can still do a little better, if that’s what it takes” says the weirdly cold but yet high pitched voice from across the steel table. The smile painted on his face is too wide to be real and could have only come from thousands of years of sitting in that same seat and saying that same line to the other Jimmys to make his acquaintance. Do you think they said yes, do you think they tried to get their pot sweetened?
I stammer out a no and try to push the offer back to him. “How many times do I have to explain that…” is all I can get out before he taps the edge of the table with his finger. This simple act, something I had done myself when bored, caused me to freeze mid-sentence. My tone quickly changed, knowing my body couldn’t handle what it meant to draw a second stroke of his long bony digit down on the table.
*first prompt, what the hell.
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[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | I spiraled into a deep depression when Susan left me; one where I could no longer get out of bed to show up to work. Shortly after being fired from my job, I lost my house, and moved in with my well-off brother and his wife. They didn't have any children, so at first, they didn't mind taking me in and feeding me. After about a year of living off of them, my brother decided that if I'm going to continue living there. I need to get a job. He sat behind me as I wrote up a resume, and he sent it to several places that were hiring. I wasn't ready to work, but I also wasn't ready to confess to my brother that I have completely given up on life at the moment. So what to do other than botch the interview?
I got up right around 11 in the morning, just in time to roll out of bed, and catch the bus to the office I was interviewing at. I slapped on my old college sweater, my finest cargo shorts, knee high black socks, and the most luxurious sandals in my small collection.
I would have arrived on time, but I didn't want to get hungry mid-interview, so I stopped at Chipotle and got a burrito. I jammed it into the front pocket of my sweater, and figured I'd have at it whenever I was struck with hunger.
I arrived to the office and checked in with the receptionist. She quickly became snotty when she informed me that I was 15 minutes late, and that she would need to check in with the boss to see if they would proceed with the interview. She left to go speak with him, and arrived back shortly, saying, "Alright, he's ready for you." She led me to his small office. As I opened the door; the boss didn't stand or even greet me. He looked down at his papers and excused the receptionist.
He peeled his eyes from his desk and eyed me up and down with utter disdain.
"You've got a lot of nerve showing up here like that."
I replied by taking the burrito out of pocket, and beginning to eat it while still standing at the door.
"Ole' Penn State... I'm a Stanford man ya' know..."
With a mouthful of burrito, I exclaimed, "That must mean I'm the smart one then."
He let out a rouceous laugh and invited me to sit. I declined the offer; explaining that I'd prefer to stand, as my alpha status doesn't allow me to put myself in a submissive position.
The boss stood from his desk, put his head down and in hushed tones he said, "I'm glad you've made your position here clear. I myself am not a passive man, and as such, I respect your claim to dominance. But I will in no way abide to it. If you ever try to make me your bitch, I promise you, blood will flow through the halls of this office like rivers of red." He came around from behind his desk, "Come with me." As he passed by me, he grabbed the burrito from my hands and began to eat it. He opened the door, and I followed behind. What else was I supposed to do? I was in shock as to what has occurred.
We went through the office building without uttering a single word to one another; through the halls, down the stairs, and ultimately to the parking lot. He had taken a few more bites out of my burrito on the way down, but when we got to the middle of the parking lot, he spiked it. He wound up his arm, and with half the burrito remaining, he slammed it to the pavement like a football. He loosened the tie from his neck, rolled up his sleeves, and calmly said to me, "Now is your chance to prove yourself, tough guy. Lets see who the real big shot is..."
He stepped up to me with his arms spread out wide like an eagle, "Come on alpha... lets see who you really are."
I began to speak for the first time since I initially told him I'm the alpha. My lips and body weren't working though, so I only managed to let out something that was somewhere in between and apology and a quiver.
The boss, still in my face, lightly laughed to himself. "That's what I thought."
There was a few moments of silence I attempted to break, "I think it's time for me to..."
"Stop. Talking." He cut me off. "Bathe in my strength; feel the epinephrine fill your veins, and let your mind consider the things I could do to you."
I did as I was told. He spent the next minute an inch from my face; staring into my soul.
He began speaking again, "You're afraid. I can feel it. It's not me that you're afraid of, no. It's this moment. You don't know what to do. You let yourself become my bitch, and you did as you were told, because you didn't know what would happen. And because I am not afraid of this moment, I have complete control over you. I am your daddy."
He backed off slightly and put his hand on my shoulder; "But when I looked into your eyes; I saw a strength that's not human. I saw something unreal; something that would make the strongest men feint at it's presence. I saw a true alpha-male. A lord of all things natural. I can teach you how to harness it... you start on Monday. I am your master, you are my pupil. You are not to tell anyone of our arrangement; just stick to your desk, look busy, and I will call you into my office when the time is right."
He left.
I'm not sure what the fuck happened; but I guess I got the job.
| I could hear the florencent lights hum as I stared down at the offer sheet, the crisp white paper and bold dark print. The reward offered for this job was more than I made the entire time I was alive but yet I knew I shouldn’t take it, couldn’t take it.
“Are you not happy with the terms Jimmy? We can still do a little better, if that’s what it takes” says the weirdly cold but yet high pitched voice from across the steel table. The smile painted on his face is too wide to be real and could have only come from thousands of years of sitting in that same seat and saying that same line to the other Jimmys to make his acquaintance. Do you think they said yes, do you think they tried to get their pot sweetened?
I stammer out a no and try to push the offer back to him. “How many times do I have to explain that…” is all I can get out before he taps the edge of the table with his finger. This simple act, something I had done myself when bored, caused me to freeze mid-sentence. My tone quickly changed, knowing my body couldn’t handle what it meant to draw a second stroke of his long bony digit down on the table.
*first prompt, what the hell.
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[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | "I'm also a drug user. Copious amounts!" I can hear my own disbelief.
The interviewer shrugs. "You're in your prime, Mr. Johnson. Not many men can run the football quite as well as you."
"I have an arrest record."
"Yes, and a rushing record. That's why you're here."
"Wh...what? I'm saying I have a real problem, man. I'm a kid, mid to early 20's. I come from nothing. And now I've been given tens of millions of dollars. I don't know how to handle that kind of money or the attention that comes with it. I spent three years in a college that encouraged me to take the easiest fucking classes so I can pass and play. Most of my teammates read at a 5th grade level, some were illiterate. And now I'm... I'm in too deep, man. For fucks sake, I see my face on fucking billboards, I'm on tv! I'm a brand! My ego walks into the room before I do and it's palpable. Women throw themselves at me. And for what? It's no surprise I turn to drugs to cope. But that's what I'm saying, man. I need help... I got a problem."
"How's your knee holding up?"
"Excuse me?"
"Your knees, Mr. Johnson. They checked out in your physical but we want to hear it from you. How are your knees?"
"....They're fine, man."
"Fantastic! Sign here."
"Okay, okay. Wait... I've hit women in the past. I mean... I mean, I'm not proud of it. Not at all. I hate myself for it. Can you understand me though? My professional working life is spent pummeling others and getting pummeled on a weekly basis and tens of thousands of mongoloids watch and celebrate. Even since I was a fucking child, I have been praised by my ability to physically brutalize others. I'm not proud of it. No. But I just don't know how to handle my anger, my problems. I've never learned another way. Why? Because I've never needed to. I think I deserve something, I have an inflated sense of who I am. The truth is, I'm a barbarian. Its what people pay me to do, people like you."
"Just sign here, Mr. Johnson. Welcome to the team." | I could hear the florencent lights hum as I stared down at the offer sheet, the crisp white paper and bold dark print. The reward offered for this job was more than I made the entire time I was alive but yet I knew I shouldn’t take it, couldn’t take it.
“Are you not happy with the terms Jimmy? We can still do a little better, if that’s what it takes” says the weirdly cold but yet high pitched voice from across the steel table. The smile painted on his face is too wide to be real and could have only come from thousands of years of sitting in that same seat and saying that same line to the other Jimmys to make his acquaintance. Do you think they said yes, do you think they tried to get their pot sweetened?
I stammer out a no and try to push the offer back to him. “How many times do I have to explain that…” is all I can get out before he taps the edge of the table with his finger. This simple act, something I had done myself when bored, caused me to freeze mid-sentence. My tone quickly changed, knowing my body couldn’t handle what it meant to draw a second stroke of his long bony digit down on the table.
*first prompt, what the hell.
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[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | This happened to me in real life. I was unemployed, and going to school. (I got to collect unemployment because I was working full time while going to school, and got laid off). I didn't want to go back to work. Unemployment office sends me a job, that I'm qualified for. Go to interview in dirty clothes, no shave, etc. I walk in and the guy doing the hiring, was a guy I used to work with. Hired me on the spot. | I could hear the florencent lights hum as I stared down at the offer sheet, the crisp white paper and bold dark print. The reward offered for this job was more than I made the entire time I was alive but yet I knew I shouldn’t take it, couldn’t take it.
“Are you not happy with the terms Jimmy? We can still do a little better, if that’s what it takes” says the weirdly cold but yet high pitched voice from across the steel table. The smile painted on his face is too wide to be real and could have only come from thousands of years of sitting in that same seat and saying that same line to the other Jimmys to make his acquaintance. Do you think they said yes, do you think they tried to get their pot sweetened?
I stammer out a no and try to push the offer back to him. “How many times do I have to explain that…” is all I can get out before he taps the edge of the table with his finger. This simple act, something I had done myself when bored, caused me to freeze mid-sentence. My tone quickly changed, knowing my body couldn’t handle what it meant to draw a second stroke of his long bony digit down on the table.
*first prompt, what the hell.
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[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | I stared over my monitor at the newest recruit, probably for longer than absolutely necessary. I hid my sweating palms and my shaking hands behind my desk. It had gone on so long...
"Look. You have all the qualifications we're looking for. All I need is your signature, and you'll be set. But... how about we grab a coffee first?"
The young man smiled and agreed. What did he know? He wanted to get in good with whoever pulled enough weight he could make a paycheck. I understood that.
"Before you sign anything... This job isn't what you think it is. Frankly, I have no idea what it is. Nobody does. I started here almost twelve years ago. I didn't even want the position; my parents made me apply..."
---
Wearing a stained T-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, sporting a lovely three-day growth of untrimmed beard, I waltzed into Business Corporation Associates, Inc., and tossed a grubby resume on the secretary's desk. "Interview with wassname."
The secretary, full of professionalism, smiled warmly. "Mr. Manager is waiting in his office, please go through."
I shrugged through the door and plopped down sideways in a chair. Mr. Manager stood, offering his hand; I handed him my gum wrapper. All he did was chuckle and toss the wrapper in the trash. "Glad to see the youth are thinking about the environment these days," he rumbled. "Back in my day, kids just tossed their trash on the ground. Now, young man, I hear you're interested in a position here!"
I shrugged. "Meh. It wasn't my idea. Parents said I needed a job."
He chuckled again. "You listen to your parents, eh? If only my kids were as polite! Now, tell me - what are you looking for in our company?"
I locked eyes with him, holding my gaze until it was long past uncomfortable. "Nothing. Get it?"
He nodded as if I had made some deep comment, and answered, "Of course, of course. Ask not what your company can do for you, and all that. Very dedicated! What would you say to a management position?"
I stared at him incredulously. My plan had been another summer lounging around my parent's basement, playing video games. It almost sounded like this man was going to offer me a job in spite of my actions! I sat up. "No way, man. I'm not about to sign up to be some money-grubbing pencil-pusher like you."
I thought about it for a second, then just in case, added, "Corporate freak."
Mr. Manager grinned. "Good! I'm glad to hear it! Too many kids these days want a clear shot to the top, no effort. Working your way up from the bottom, that's the ticket! Learn from the little guy!"
He stood, rubbing his hands together. "Young man, I would like to introduce you to someone. Mr. Engineer. I think you'll hit it off just fine. Back in a tick, eh?"
He rounded his desk, pushed through the doors, and headed down the hall as I broke out in a cold sweat. I didn't know how to do... well, anything! Whatever they put me in, it would definitely not be video games. And if I *lost* a job... well, let's just say that it would be better to have never tried at all that to have tried and failed, no matter what . Dad was very particular about "honest work," and he was prepared to back that up. But if last year had taught me anything, it was that if I couldn't get a job, I was fine. I needed to do something. Anything. What was the worst thing I could do? I gave a sidelong glance at the leather-covered desk. Maybe... if I left an, er, gift? But just before I could unzip my pants, the door swung open. Startled and already more than a little jumpy, I whirled, bringing my fist around in a wide punch that smacked right into the face of, I presume, Mr. Engineer.
His head bounced off the wall, the door, and two chairs before it came to rest on the floor. Mr. Manager walked in to find me staring down at the unconscious, and likely wildly concussed, form. "Oh good heavens! Come with me, straight to security!"
Well, it wasn't what I'd planned, but as long as they didn't press charges, this was the best outcome I could have hoped for! Or at least, that's what I thought.
Jittery from the sudden influx of adrenaline, I missed the first part of what Mr. Manager told the security guard. I tuned in to hear him finish, "This young man laid him out with a single punch!"
Two other security officers had dashed upstairs half way through, likely trying to restore Mr. Engineer to life. The security man, a beefy, middle-aged fellow with a name tag the read "Security," and in smaller letters, "B. Security," held out his hand. Meekly, I held out both of mine... and blinked when he grabbed my right hand and started pumping it up and down. "Good work, son. I don't know how that man slipped past security, but if it wasn't for your quick wits, it might have been 1992 all over again."
As my jaw dropped in absolute horror, Mr. Manager clapped me on the shoulder. "You don't even need to sign anything, young man, we'll get it all sorted when you come in next week. Don't worry about coming in until Monday, you rest up! I'm sure this was quite the ordeal!"
I was hardly out the front door before the man I'd knocked out was being lead outside in cuffs. What had I gotten myself in to?
---
I stared down into my coffee cup. "That wasn't the worst of it, of course. When I started, I was trying to avoid work, but every time I slipped away, someone caught me brainstorming - that is, sleeping - or team-building - that is, playing video games on my work computer. Every move I made, I was praised. I got raise after raise..."
I lifted my eyes to those of the young man on the other side of the table. He seemed a little unsure of himself. "But... isn't that a dream come true?"
I leaned over the table. He flinched back. Good, he *should* be scared.
"No, kid, you don't get it. People call me every day, asking if the Paper Report is ready, or if the Sheet Documents have been signed. I make things up. I sat in on a random meeting because they had donuts, and somehow saved the company a million dollars. Or rubles. I don't know. Maybe it was Zimbabwean dollars. That's not the point, though. I've given presentations that were nothing but the blank templates, and gotten *standing ovations*. It's insane! It's mind boggling!"
The kid pushed his half-filled mug to the side, surreptitiously glancing at his watch. "So... uh... you really have no idea what you're doing?"
I shook my head. "You're not listening. *No one* knows what they're doing. No one! Everyone talks about nothing! They give vague figures, present charts and graphs that have been lifted off Google Image Search - like, the first images - and act like they know what they're doing! Everyone does it, and everyone else acts like they're the greatest thing since NASA! The whole company is mad - **mad** I tell you!"
I slumped weakly back against my chair, wiping the spittle from my lips. The kid looked a little more sure of himself, now. Maybe I gave him an out. Maybe the poor fool could get out, while there was still time.
He nodded sagely. "Ah! I understand what you're saying!"
I almost wept with relief. He understood! It wasn't just me! Finally, there was someone I could connect with, someone who-
"So you're saying it's a marketing firm - right? Awesome! When do I start?" | I could hear the florencent lights hum as I stared down at the offer sheet, the crisp white paper and bold dark print. The reward offered for this job was more than I made the entire time I was alive but yet I knew I shouldn’t take it, couldn’t take it.
“Are you not happy with the terms Jimmy? We can still do a little better, if that’s what it takes” says the weirdly cold but yet high pitched voice from across the steel table. The smile painted on his face is too wide to be real and could have only come from thousands of years of sitting in that same seat and saying that same line to the other Jimmys to make his acquaintance. Do you think they said yes, do you think they tried to get their pot sweetened?
I stammer out a no and try to push the offer back to him. “How many times do I have to explain that…” is all I can get out before he taps the edge of the table with his finger. This simple act, something I had done myself when bored, caused me to freeze mid-sentence. My tone quickly changed, knowing my body couldn’t handle what it meant to draw a second stroke of his long bony digit down on the table.
*first prompt, what the hell.
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | Sixteen-year-old Theodore Cruz slouched in the cheap plastic booth, sucking the last dregs of his soda with obnoxious zeal and using a ketchup packet to paint a frowny-face on the table. In preparation for this interview, he’d donned his “Sperm Donor” T-shirt and smeared a tablespoon of lard into his hair. The look he was going for, despite his parents’ entreaties to get a job, was “unhireable,” and he was *nailing* it.
“Hi, you must be Theodore. I’m Sharona, the manager.” A moderately-attractive woman in her mid-twenties had appeared, carrying a clipboard and wearing a bright smile.
He popped his gum at her and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Hi, baby. Nice jugs. They real?”
“Why, yes they are, thanks for asking.” Her smile didn’t slip a fraction. She slid into the seat across from him, careful to place her paperwork away from his ketchup puddle.
“So, why do you want to work for the Sandwich Duke? You left that question blank, along with most of the other questions.”
“I dunno. Guess I’d like to steal food when no one’s watching.” He pulled out his gum, examined it, and stuck it under the table.
“Ah, an opportunist. You’ll be happy to know that the camera beside the back fryer is broken, so you’ll be able to help yourself. Within reason, of course.” She made a tiny note on her clipboard.
“This question’s just for fun, to help me get to know you better: if you were a food, what would you be and why?”
“Dog. Chinks eat dogs, so why can’t we? I think it’d be cool to eat something that would make all those sissy animal lovers lose their shit.”
Sharona fiddled with the silver cat pin on her lapel and frowned, her composure cracking slightly for the first time. “Yes, well, alright…I like a man who can think outside the box. Last question: what would you say your greatest strength is?”
He yawned. “I’m really good at finding ways around the school firewall to stream porn in class. I sell my secrets to the other losers for beer money. Even though they’re totally loaded, my parents are real tightwads.”
“I see. It sounds like you’re a real entrepreneur. Good thing you’ll be drawing a real paycheck soon. Welcome aboard!” She stuck out a hand to shake, once more grinning broadly at him.
He gaped at her speechlessly, resembling a wide-mouth bass that has swallowed a hook. He was so stunned that he forgot to be rude as he accepted his new uniform and tentative schedule. Sharona watched the little asshat go, already calculating ways to maximize his misery for the three months she had him until school started again. She thought that scraping all of the gum out from under the tables would be a good place to start. Maybe the little toerag would quit – if he did, it wasn’t her fault.
She watched the kid climb into his dad’s brand-new sports car and marveled to herself at the peculiar behavior of the very rich. Who else would have paid her five grand to hire their stupid kid? For that kind of money, she would put up with a lot of bullshit for twenty hours a week. Maybe they'd even do it again next summer. | I could hear the florencent lights hum as I stared down at the offer sheet, the crisp white paper and bold dark print. The reward offered for this job was more than I made the entire time I was alive but yet I knew I shouldn’t take it, couldn’t take it.
“Are you not happy with the terms Jimmy? We can still do a little better, if that’s what it takes” says the weirdly cold but yet high pitched voice from across the steel table. The smile painted on his face is too wide to be real and could have only come from thousands of years of sitting in that same seat and saying that same line to the other Jimmys to make his acquaintance. Do you think they said yes, do you think they tried to get their pot sweetened?
I stammer out a no and try to push the offer back to him. “How many times do I have to explain that…” is all I can get out before he taps the edge of the table with his finger. This simple act, something I had done myself when bored, caused me to freeze mid-sentence. My tone quickly changed, knowing my body couldn’t handle what it meant to draw a second stroke of his long bony digit down on the table.
*first prompt, what the hell.
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | The water bottle was obviously full of something other than water. I took small sips in the waiting room, the smell of vodka stinging my eyes even with the orange juice to water it down.
I had somewhere to be and it wasn’t in a job interview.
“It’s good practice,” my wife had encouraged. “You just need to get back on that horse and give it a try.” She’d told me when I was asked to come in for the job.
“I don’t think I want it,” I’d confided in her. But there was no arguing with her at that point.
“Joseph Gordons?” The receptionist called my name. A tall thin man stood next to her, a dour look on his face. He shook my hand wordlessly and gestured for me to follow him. I ambled along behind him into a tight conference room. The lighting was fluorescent and room dingy. I half wanted to leave right then but I’d promised my wife I’d stay.
“Joseph, good of you to come in,” the man said. “I’m Hank Norbitt, I do the hiring for the programming department, I find that HR doesn’t really understand programmers.” His voice reminded me of Eeyore. Once I started thinking about the sad donkey I could also see a resemblance in his expression.
We settled into chairs on the corner of the table. I leaned my left arm on the table and set the water bottle down. Hank got comfortable as I began to speak.
“I understand that some programmers have social issues, I’m not really one of them. I paid for university working as a bartender and spent all kinds of time with people, at the bar, after the bar. The morning before going back to work,” I replied probably too honestly. I’d told my wife I’d give it an honest try but I wanted to tank the interview and go. “I met my wife bartending.”
“Was that a bar in town?”
“Yea, Phil’s by Laurier. I learned a lot of skills there I’ve found applicable in other places,” I took a sip of my screwdriver before continuing. Hank leaned forward seeming intrigued. I’d led him here and prepared to drop an answer that’ll have him excusing me. “I learned how to keep my mouth shut, the bikers used to deal coke out of the back and I needed to make sure I didn’t show up on their radar. I learned how to break up a fight – you never know when you’ll need to convince a man to drop a knife. Every Friday these days it seems.”
“You like to go out then? Party?” Hank’s eyes lit up, I was a little concerned that he was getting too into my answers.
“Sometimes. I don’t do drugs anymore, almost OD’d at my last job – that’s why I’m looking for work, had some trouble with painkillers and needed to take some time off, get better,” I was lying now.
“Now that’s interesting, you sound like you’re very good at recognizing your own flaws, that’s a strong quality in an employee,” Hank seemed far too into what I was saying and I wanted to get him to let me go.
“I can see where I’ve fallen down, unless I’ve had too much to drink!” I exclaimed and laughed a bit louder than I probably should have.
“Well, I do have some questions for you,” Hank glanced at the sheet in front of him, “first, if you could be any animal what would you be?”
“I’d be a duck, their penises are the ultimate multi-tool,” I replied, half-serious. The alcohol was having the desired effect and I wasn’t tasting the vodka as much now. I committed to myself that I’d answer the questions quickly and just move through this stupid formality. I glanced at my watch – I needed to be out of here in ten minutes.
“Oh that’s an original one, love that, I’ll have to use it sometime. Next what is your greatest weakness?” Hank asked with a smile.
“Alcoholism.”
“I appreciate the honesty. I like that in an employee. Now how many gas stations do you think are in the US?”
“At least 12.”
“Well you’re not wrong, and I supposed that’s what I get for asking a programmer that question – you’re up on your internet jokes right?” Hank laughed at his own comment, my grim expression started to break and I smiled with him for a moment. I took a swig of the alcohol. “Where do you see yourself in five years?”
Five years. I used to know where I’d be, until a week ago I’d have had an answer. “I don’t,” the smile that had been growing was lost again. Hank’s laid a hand on my arm.
“If you need to talk…”
“I think it’d be best if we move on with the questions, I don’t like to bring personal issues into work,” I interrupted. I didn’t know him and didn’t need this right now.
“Right, ok. How honest would you say you are?”
“Very,” I didn’t think I needed to elaborate, I’ve only told a couple lies so far.
“Alright, last one – how would your family feel about you working long hours?”
“I don’t have a family,” I replied without explanation.
“You mentioned your wife,” he began.
“She’s dead.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Hank replied. His look quizzical and I knew what was coming next. One of two questions that I’d been asked so many times recently.
“Drunk driver hit her car two days ago. She kicked it. I actually need to go now. Her visitation starts in half an hour and it’s a twenty minute drive,” I replied, standing. I wobbled a bit. I didn’t mean to but I did.
“Are you…”
“Driving? No, I’m not the goddamn moron who killed her.”
“I’ll give you a call, about the job, but can I ask one last question?” Hank watched me. I hesitated and nodded, “why did you take the interview? Why not cancel or reschedule?”
“I made my wife a promise that I’d come,” I replied. “I don’t think her death releases me from that.”
| I could hear the florencent lights hum as I stared down at the offer sheet, the crisp white paper and bold dark print. The reward offered for this job was more than I made the entire time I was alive but yet I knew I shouldn’t take it, couldn’t take it.
“Are you not happy with the terms Jimmy? We can still do a little better, if that’s what it takes” says the weirdly cold but yet high pitched voice from across the steel table. The smile painted on his face is too wide to be real and could have only come from thousands of years of sitting in that same seat and saying that same line to the other Jimmys to make his acquaintance. Do you think they said yes, do you think they tried to get their pot sweetened?
I stammer out a no and try to push the offer back to him. “How many times do I have to explain that…” is all I can get out before he taps the edge of the table with his finger. This simple act, something I had done myself when bored, caused me to freeze mid-sentence. My tone quickly changed, knowing my body couldn’t handle what it meant to draw a second stroke of his long bony digit down on the table.
*first prompt, what the hell.
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | Without a knock, I entered
a little office space.
Although a shock, she met me
with no sign of ill grace.
A hand outstretched, I slapped it
her eyes lit up with joy.
"Such arrogance is what we seek
in those that we employ!" | I looked up at the tall glass tower glinting in the sunlight, a trickle of malcontent running down my spine and into my stomach. Capital Corp spelled out in stainless steel cutouts over the 2 story tall glass and tile entrance looked down at me. I could feel their disdain drifting over me like a cloud of CO2, invisible and slightly breathtaking. I shook myself and remembered that the building didn't hate me, it was only my own disgust projecting from inside me. I gripped my resume tight in my fist putting deep rinkles in one side and smiled, maybe I could make myself look incompetent enough to never have to come back here again. I took one long breath in and slowly released it with my eyes closed. 'Let's do this', I thought, and took the 4 more steps it took to bring me inside.
It had been a month. A month since I left my last job and nothing to show for it. I stared at the computer screen through a haze of half-tears only really seeing the dark background colors of the website. Every single thing I had applied for this past week had made my stomach churn just imagining myself performing it, and there was no end in sight. The last job I had left had only lasted a month and was the 7th job I had landed in a little over 3 months. I have never loved a job but the fridge was empty save for a half bottle of barbeque sauce and my mom was on speaker phone shrilly outlining her reason for not sending more money to fill the thing. It was definitely time to pick up a few more interviews and that was the moment my phone gave a low tone signaling someone was on the other line. I switched the line over without warning to my mom and her lecture, answering with a simple hello.
"Hello, is this Jacob?" The young female voice asked.
"Yup."
"Hello sir, I was calling to offer you an appointment with Capital Corp, regarding a meet and greet with our hiring manager. Interested?" She sounded more hopeful than I had expected her to, if even just a little bit.
"Sure, I can come in. When were you thinking?" The words tasted like blood in my mouth, Capital Corp was the only resident of a 23 story building in the middle of downtown, right on the edge of the river. Everyone who walked in there wore a crisp suit. Cogs in the machine.
"I have an opening tomorrow at noon if that's ok with you?" Once again, it sounded like she thought she was talking to someone slightly famous, just a hint of wonder in her voice. Strange.
I replied with as little conviction as I could, "ugh, yeah. I think I might be able to make that..." I didn't want to work in some cubicle, I would end up killing someone within a year. The dread was already setting in and I hadn't even made it to the interview yet.
"Great! I'm sending you an email right now and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!" She hung up all at once, leaving me listening to my mother once again. She hadn't even realized she was on hold.
The air was fridged on my skin as I walked in the doors, my slender frame coiling even more than it had been immediately prior. I was the only person not in a suit, yet not the youngest person there at 22. I stopped just in the lobby and looked around. The lobby itself was 3 stories tall and 30 feet square with a 20 X 20 white marble platform in the middle of the floor on which was stationed a handful of black leather couches around a large planter box holding a palm tree. A 3' rock fountain trickled peacefully in one corner. I paused a moment to take it all in, the extravagance made me sneer a little. How frivolous this whole place was! Yet a small child within me couldn't help but find wonder in this peaceful little Oasis below a tower of offices doing who knows what. I sat down on one of these couches to check my phone and look at my confirmation email with the information on how to find my interview. I looked around and found the elevator. I started walking towards it but stopped dead in my tracks when I realized that the numbers 2-12 above the door meant that I wouldn't be making it to the 20th floor. So I quickly turned around in a 360 to reassess my options and found a twin of the elevator I had been walking towards on the opposite end of the lobby labeled 13-22. I started towards them and shook my head at myself. This really wasn't any place for a job hopper, they knew I had no office experience... right? Oh well, I wasn't actually going to make it through the interview anyway. The elevator immediately left my gut in my shoes as we rocketed up. The smell of suits strong in my nose from the 4 people in the elevator with me. I could only imagine what I smelled like to them, the only smoker in the building probably. One by one they all got off, each more dignified than the first and finally I was alone after the 18th floor. I began to wonder just what job I was being interviewed for on the 20th floor. The thought made my ankles ache, probably because my stomach was in knots and the elevator was rising so fast that the two areas had become one and the same. I stepped off into a small maroon hallway with pictures of flowers down the length of the wall. I padded down the Navy blue carpet staring at the zig zag pattern till I came to the very end of the hall the opened up into a small round waiting room not more than 10' across, black leather arm chairs on both walls. The people in those chairs struck me dumb, each and every one was about 5' 10" and 120lbs with red hair and sharp features including me. More than strange. So I sat down with my crumpled resume in one of the arm chairs and waited till my name was called.
As I walked into the small conference room I was greeted by 3 men in some of the nicest suits I have ever seen. 'yup, I won't last a minute In this interview' I thought to myself. Instead of sitting down at the table where the man on the right had gestured I wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling window and stared out over the river and the city beyond. You could see the snowcapped mountain in the distance and the whole of the east side of the city below, it really was awe inspiring. I made an impatient gesture behind me without looking so they would just get on with it and I got a belly laugh. I turned around slowly, confused. All three of them had big grins looking at me.
"Heya there Jacob! How're you today?" The man in the middle asked joyfully.
"Life's a struggle" I replied flatly, rolling my eyes at the question. What did they care?
"Well, I'm soon it'll all get better soon here." The man on the left replied hopefully.
"I'm sure." I stated sarcastically. This wasn't going anywhere near like I had expected so far. I was getting worried about their smiles and suddenly felt like sitting down.
"So Jacob, tell me a little about yourself. What are you looking for? What can we do for each other?" Asked the man on the right.
"Ha! Not an office job, that's for sure." I shot back. "I'm a well documented job hopper, I don't know what I want and I'm just picking up whatever I can to feed myself until I find something I do want. So what's the job?"
The three men grinned at each other as if privately, nodding to each other as if I had answered perfectly.
"The job is pretty much our personal assistant. You help us with whatever we need and you get paid for it. We've already decided we want you. We'll do anything it takes to make you ours, you see, I really like your attitude."
That was when I really started to feel claustrophobic and light headed, I was supposed to be laughed out by now, but I'm being told I'm already hired? So I switched gears. "I've got a problem with authority." I blurted. Their grins just got wider.
"And I'm always partying! I can't be sober to save my life and I don't even have any experience!"
"That's all good! Means you can keep up and we want you trained our way! Welcome to capital Corp!"
On the way out, I was so nervous about what had transpired that I barfed in the potted plant by the door. I couldn't wait to get paid.
So this is the first time I've ever posted in a writing prompt. sorry for the grammar and all that, it's been a long time since I wrote anything.
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | [Contains Mild Vulgarity]
"Well Mr. Jones, I can see you're applying for our senior member position. I take it you've got the required ten years experience or some equivalent not listed on your resume?"
"Huh? No, uh, I actually just typed a hello world script once, no real world experience."
"Wonderful! Our HR staff wrote up these stupid requests but I really want an outsiders perspective on our team. Can you get started today?"
"Oh I've never done any sort of work other than manual labor. I would need at least a week of orientation. Maybe two depending on how I'm feeling."
"Sounds perfect! We can put you and our other new hire in a team to learn the ins and outs side by side! Those are exactly the kind of fresh ideas this company needs!"
"What? No, that was your idea."
"Modesty is the number one trait I look for in an underling!"
"Hey! I don't take kindly to being labeled by people who don't know me!"
"Straightforward take charge personalities are the number two trait!"
"I lied about having a job for three years on my resume expecting you to not even call my references. I've never held a job for more than three months!"
"Good, that means you're an open canvas to work with. We don't hire brainwashed goons here in our establishment."
"I mentioned I have a car? I don't, I was just planning to walk into work if I was feeling good enough that day, otherwise stay home."
"I can get you on medical as a priority to help with any chronic exhaustion or general sleepiness. Until you've fully recovered, take it one step at a time. We aim to avoid discrimination of those who wish to work."
"I think your face is stupid."
"Ha! Me too. I've been contemplating plastic surgery. I think this might just be the push I needed to go through with my decision. Thank you, you've saved me from a lifetime of wasted contemplation."
"Did Stacy put you up to this?! What did she offer you? Did she suck your cock?"
"I'm her dad."
"I'll take the job if you promise to forget I said that."
"Glad to have you." | I looked up at the tall glass tower glinting in the sunlight, a trickle of malcontent running down my spine and into my stomach. Capital Corp spelled out in stainless steel cutouts over the 2 story tall glass and tile entrance looked down at me. I could feel their disdain drifting over me like a cloud of CO2, invisible and slightly breathtaking. I shook myself and remembered that the building didn't hate me, it was only my own disgust projecting from inside me. I gripped my resume tight in my fist putting deep rinkles in one side and smiled, maybe I could make myself look incompetent enough to never have to come back here again. I took one long breath in and slowly released it with my eyes closed. 'Let's do this', I thought, and took the 4 more steps it took to bring me inside.
It had been a month. A month since I left my last job and nothing to show for it. I stared at the computer screen through a haze of half-tears only really seeing the dark background colors of the website. Every single thing I had applied for this past week had made my stomach churn just imagining myself performing it, and there was no end in sight. The last job I had left had only lasted a month and was the 7th job I had landed in a little over 3 months. I have never loved a job but the fridge was empty save for a half bottle of barbeque sauce and my mom was on speaker phone shrilly outlining her reason for not sending more money to fill the thing. It was definitely time to pick up a few more interviews and that was the moment my phone gave a low tone signaling someone was on the other line. I switched the line over without warning to my mom and her lecture, answering with a simple hello.
"Hello, is this Jacob?" The young female voice asked.
"Yup."
"Hello sir, I was calling to offer you an appointment with Capital Corp, regarding a meet and greet with our hiring manager. Interested?" She sounded more hopeful than I had expected her to, if even just a little bit.
"Sure, I can come in. When were you thinking?" The words tasted like blood in my mouth, Capital Corp was the only resident of a 23 story building in the middle of downtown, right on the edge of the river. Everyone who walked in there wore a crisp suit. Cogs in the machine.
"I have an opening tomorrow at noon if that's ok with you?" Once again, it sounded like she thought she was talking to someone slightly famous, just a hint of wonder in her voice. Strange.
I replied with as little conviction as I could, "ugh, yeah. I think I might be able to make that..." I didn't want to work in some cubicle, I would end up killing someone within a year. The dread was already setting in and I hadn't even made it to the interview yet.
"Great! I'm sending you an email right now and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!" She hung up all at once, leaving me listening to my mother once again. She hadn't even realized she was on hold.
The air was fridged on my skin as I walked in the doors, my slender frame coiling even more than it had been immediately prior. I was the only person not in a suit, yet not the youngest person there at 22. I stopped just in the lobby and looked around. The lobby itself was 3 stories tall and 30 feet square with a 20 X 20 white marble platform in the middle of the floor on which was stationed a handful of black leather couches around a large planter box holding a palm tree. A 3' rock fountain trickled peacefully in one corner. I paused a moment to take it all in, the extravagance made me sneer a little. How frivolous this whole place was! Yet a small child within me couldn't help but find wonder in this peaceful little Oasis below a tower of offices doing who knows what. I sat down on one of these couches to check my phone and look at my confirmation email with the information on how to find my interview. I looked around and found the elevator. I started walking towards it but stopped dead in my tracks when I realized that the numbers 2-12 above the door meant that I wouldn't be making it to the 20th floor. So I quickly turned around in a 360 to reassess my options and found a twin of the elevator I had been walking towards on the opposite end of the lobby labeled 13-22. I started towards them and shook my head at myself. This really wasn't any place for a job hopper, they knew I had no office experience... right? Oh well, I wasn't actually going to make it through the interview anyway. The elevator immediately left my gut in my shoes as we rocketed up. The smell of suits strong in my nose from the 4 people in the elevator with me. I could only imagine what I smelled like to them, the only smoker in the building probably. One by one they all got off, each more dignified than the first and finally I was alone after the 18th floor. I began to wonder just what job I was being interviewed for on the 20th floor. The thought made my ankles ache, probably because my stomach was in knots and the elevator was rising so fast that the two areas had become one and the same. I stepped off into a small maroon hallway with pictures of flowers down the length of the wall. I padded down the Navy blue carpet staring at the zig zag pattern till I came to the very end of the hall the opened up into a small round waiting room not more than 10' across, black leather arm chairs on both walls. The people in those chairs struck me dumb, each and every one was about 5' 10" and 120lbs with red hair and sharp features including me. More than strange. So I sat down with my crumpled resume in one of the arm chairs and waited till my name was called.
As I walked into the small conference room I was greeted by 3 men in some of the nicest suits I have ever seen. 'yup, I won't last a minute In this interview' I thought to myself. Instead of sitting down at the table where the man on the right had gestured I wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling window and stared out over the river and the city beyond. You could see the snowcapped mountain in the distance and the whole of the east side of the city below, it really was awe inspiring. I made an impatient gesture behind me without looking so they would just get on with it and I got a belly laugh. I turned around slowly, confused. All three of them had big grins looking at me.
"Heya there Jacob! How're you today?" The man in the middle asked joyfully.
"Life's a struggle" I replied flatly, rolling my eyes at the question. What did they care?
"Well, I'm soon it'll all get better soon here." The man on the left replied hopefully.
"I'm sure." I stated sarcastically. This wasn't going anywhere near like I had expected so far. I was getting worried about their smiles and suddenly felt like sitting down.
"So Jacob, tell me a little about yourself. What are you looking for? What can we do for each other?" Asked the man on the right.
"Ha! Not an office job, that's for sure." I shot back. "I'm a well documented job hopper, I don't know what I want and I'm just picking up whatever I can to feed myself until I find something I do want. So what's the job?"
The three men grinned at each other as if privately, nodding to each other as if I had answered perfectly.
"The job is pretty much our personal assistant. You help us with whatever we need and you get paid for it. We've already decided we want you. We'll do anything it takes to make you ours, you see, I really like your attitude."
That was when I really started to feel claustrophobic and light headed, I was supposed to be laughed out by now, but I'm being told I'm already hired? So I switched gears. "I've got a problem with authority." I blurted. Their grins just got wider.
"And I'm always partying! I can't be sober to save my life and I don't even have any experience!"
"That's all good! Means you can keep up and we want you trained our way! Welcome to capital Corp!"
On the way out, I was so nervous about what had transpired that I barfed in the potted plant by the door. I couldn't wait to get paid.
So this is the first time I've ever posted in a writing prompt. sorry for the grammar and all that, it's been a long time since I wrote anything.
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | I stared over my monitor at the newest recruit, probably for longer than absolutely necessary. I hid my sweating palms and my shaking hands behind my desk. It had gone on so long...
"Look. You have all the qualifications we're looking for. All I need is your signature, and you'll be set. But... how about we grab a coffee first?"
The young man smiled and agreed. What did he know? He wanted to get in good with whoever pulled enough weight he could make a paycheck. I understood that.
"Before you sign anything... This job isn't what you think it is. Frankly, I have no idea what it is. Nobody does. I started here almost twelve years ago. I didn't even want the position; my parents made me apply..."
---
Wearing a stained T-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, sporting a lovely three-day growth of untrimmed beard, I waltzed into Business Corporation Associates, Inc., and tossed a grubby resume on the secretary's desk. "Interview with wassname."
The secretary, full of professionalism, smiled warmly. "Mr. Manager is waiting in his office, please go through."
I shrugged through the door and plopped down sideways in a chair. Mr. Manager stood, offering his hand; I handed him my gum wrapper. All he did was chuckle and toss the wrapper in the trash. "Glad to see the youth are thinking about the environment these days," he rumbled. "Back in my day, kids just tossed their trash on the ground. Now, young man, I hear you're interested in a position here!"
I shrugged. "Meh. It wasn't my idea. Parents said I needed a job."
He chuckled again. "You listen to your parents, eh? If only my kids were as polite! Now, tell me - what are you looking for in our company?"
I locked eyes with him, holding my gaze until it was long past uncomfortable. "Nothing. Get it?"
He nodded as if I had made some deep comment, and answered, "Of course, of course. Ask not what your company can do for you, and all that. Very dedicated! What would you say to a management position?"
I stared at him incredulously. My plan had been another summer lounging around my parent's basement, playing video games. It almost sounded like this man was going to offer me a job in spite of my actions! I sat up. "No way, man. I'm not about to sign up to be some money-grubbing pencil-pusher like you."
I thought about it for a second, then just in case, added, "Corporate freak."
Mr. Manager grinned. "Good! I'm glad to hear it! Too many kids these days want a clear shot to the top, no effort. Working your way up from the bottom, that's the ticket! Learn from the little guy!"
He stood, rubbing his hands together. "Young man, I would like to introduce you to someone. Mr. Engineer. I think you'll hit it off just fine. Back in a tick, eh?"
He rounded his desk, pushed through the doors, and headed down the hall as I broke out in a cold sweat. I didn't know how to do... well, anything! Whatever they put me in, it would definitely not be video games. And if I *lost* a job... well, let's just say that it would be better to have never tried at all that to have tried and failed, no matter what . Dad was very particular about "honest work," and he was prepared to back that up. But if last year had taught me anything, it was that if I couldn't get a job, I was fine. I needed to do something. Anything. What was the worst thing I could do? I gave a sidelong glance at the leather-covered desk. Maybe... if I left an, er, gift? But just before I could unzip my pants, the door swung open. Startled and already more than a little jumpy, I whirled, bringing my fist around in a wide punch that smacked right into the face of, I presume, Mr. Engineer.
His head bounced off the wall, the door, and two chairs before it came to rest on the floor. Mr. Manager walked in to find me staring down at the unconscious, and likely wildly concussed, form. "Oh good heavens! Come with me, straight to security!"
Well, it wasn't what I'd planned, but as long as they didn't press charges, this was the best outcome I could have hoped for! Or at least, that's what I thought.
Jittery from the sudden influx of adrenaline, I missed the first part of what Mr. Manager told the security guard. I tuned in to hear him finish, "This young man laid him out with a single punch!"
Two other security officers had dashed upstairs half way through, likely trying to restore Mr. Engineer to life. The security man, a beefy, middle-aged fellow with a name tag the read "Security," and in smaller letters, "B. Security," held out his hand. Meekly, I held out both of mine... and blinked when he grabbed my right hand and started pumping it up and down. "Good work, son. I don't know how that man slipped past security, but if it wasn't for your quick wits, it might have been 1992 all over again."
As my jaw dropped in absolute horror, Mr. Manager clapped me on the shoulder. "You don't even need to sign anything, young man, we'll get it all sorted when you come in next week. Don't worry about coming in until Monday, you rest up! I'm sure this was quite the ordeal!"
I was hardly out the front door before the man I'd knocked out was being lead outside in cuffs. What had I gotten myself in to?
---
I stared down into my coffee cup. "That wasn't the worst of it, of course. When I started, I was trying to avoid work, but every time I slipped away, someone caught me brainstorming - that is, sleeping - or team-building - that is, playing video games on my work computer. Every move I made, I was praised. I got raise after raise..."
I lifted my eyes to those of the young man on the other side of the table. He seemed a little unsure of himself. "But... isn't that a dream come true?"
I leaned over the table. He flinched back. Good, he *should* be scared.
"No, kid, you don't get it. People call me every day, asking if the Paper Report is ready, or if the Sheet Documents have been signed. I make things up. I sat in on a random meeting because they had donuts, and somehow saved the company a million dollars. Or rubles. I don't know. Maybe it was Zimbabwean dollars. That's not the point, though. I've given presentations that were nothing but the blank templates, and gotten *standing ovations*. It's insane! It's mind boggling!"
The kid pushed his half-filled mug to the side, surreptitiously glancing at his watch. "So... uh... you really have no idea what you're doing?"
I shook my head. "You're not listening. *No one* knows what they're doing. No one! Everyone talks about nothing! They give vague figures, present charts and graphs that have been lifted off Google Image Search - like, the first images - and act like they know what they're doing! Everyone does it, and everyone else acts like they're the greatest thing since NASA! The whole company is mad - **mad** I tell you!"
I slumped weakly back against my chair, wiping the spittle from my lips. The kid looked a little more sure of himself, now. Maybe I gave him an out. Maybe the poor fool could get out, while there was still time.
He nodded sagely. "Ah! I understand what you're saying!"
I almost wept with relief. He understood! It wasn't just me! Finally, there was someone I could connect with, someone who-
"So you're saying it's a marketing firm - right? Awesome! When do I start?" | I looked up at the tall glass tower glinting in the sunlight, a trickle of malcontent running down my spine and into my stomach. Capital Corp spelled out in stainless steel cutouts over the 2 story tall glass and tile entrance looked down at me. I could feel their disdain drifting over me like a cloud of CO2, invisible and slightly breathtaking. I shook myself and remembered that the building didn't hate me, it was only my own disgust projecting from inside me. I gripped my resume tight in my fist putting deep rinkles in one side and smiled, maybe I could make myself look incompetent enough to never have to come back here again. I took one long breath in and slowly released it with my eyes closed. 'Let's do this', I thought, and took the 4 more steps it took to bring me inside.
It had been a month. A month since I left my last job and nothing to show for it. I stared at the computer screen through a haze of half-tears only really seeing the dark background colors of the website. Every single thing I had applied for this past week had made my stomach churn just imagining myself performing it, and there was no end in sight. The last job I had left had only lasted a month and was the 7th job I had landed in a little over 3 months. I have never loved a job but the fridge was empty save for a half bottle of barbeque sauce and my mom was on speaker phone shrilly outlining her reason for not sending more money to fill the thing. It was definitely time to pick up a few more interviews and that was the moment my phone gave a low tone signaling someone was on the other line. I switched the line over without warning to my mom and her lecture, answering with a simple hello.
"Hello, is this Jacob?" The young female voice asked.
"Yup."
"Hello sir, I was calling to offer you an appointment with Capital Corp, regarding a meet and greet with our hiring manager. Interested?" She sounded more hopeful than I had expected her to, if even just a little bit.
"Sure, I can come in. When were you thinking?" The words tasted like blood in my mouth, Capital Corp was the only resident of a 23 story building in the middle of downtown, right on the edge of the river. Everyone who walked in there wore a crisp suit. Cogs in the machine.
"I have an opening tomorrow at noon if that's ok with you?" Once again, it sounded like she thought she was talking to someone slightly famous, just a hint of wonder in her voice. Strange.
I replied with as little conviction as I could, "ugh, yeah. I think I might be able to make that..." I didn't want to work in some cubicle, I would end up killing someone within a year. The dread was already setting in and I hadn't even made it to the interview yet.
"Great! I'm sending you an email right now and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day!" She hung up all at once, leaving me listening to my mother once again. She hadn't even realized she was on hold.
The air was fridged on my skin as I walked in the doors, my slender frame coiling even more than it had been immediately prior. I was the only person not in a suit, yet not the youngest person there at 22. I stopped just in the lobby and looked around. The lobby itself was 3 stories tall and 30 feet square with a 20 X 20 white marble platform in the middle of the floor on which was stationed a handful of black leather couches around a large planter box holding a palm tree. A 3' rock fountain trickled peacefully in one corner. I paused a moment to take it all in, the extravagance made me sneer a little. How frivolous this whole place was! Yet a small child within me couldn't help but find wonder in this peaceful little Oasis below a tower of offices doing who knows what. I sat down on one of these couches to check my phone and look at my confirmation email with the information on how to find my interview. I looked around and found the elevator. I started walking towards it but stopped dead in my tracks when I realized that the numbers 2-12 above the door meant that I wouldn't be making it to the 20th floor. So I quickly turned around in a 360 to reassess my options and found a twin of the elevator I had been walking towards on the opposite end of the lobby labeled 13-22. I started towards them and shook my head at myself. This really wasn't any place for a job hopper, they knew I had no office experience... right? Oh well, I wasn't actually going to make it through the interview anyway. The elevator immediately left my gut in my shoes as we rocketed up. The smell of suits strong in my nose from the 4 people in the elevator with me. I could only imagine what I smelled like to them, the only smoker in the building probably. One by one they all got off, each more dignified than the first and finally I was alone after the 18th floor. I began to wonder just what job I was being interviewed for on the 20th floor. The thought made my ankles ache, probably because my stomach was in knots and the elevator was rising so fast that the two areas had become one and the same. I stepped off into a small maroon hallway with pictures of flowers down the length of the wall. I padded down the Navy blue carpet staring at the zig zag pattern till I came to the very end of the hall the opened up into a small round waiting room not more than 10' across, black leather arm chairs on both walls. The people in those chairs struck me dumb, each and every one was about 5' 10" and 120lbs with red hair and sharp features including me. More than strange. So I sat down with my crumpled resume in one of the arm chairs and waited till my name was called.
As I walked into the small conference room I was greeted by 3 men in some of the nicest suits I have ever seen. 'yup, I won't last a minute In this interview' I thought to myself. Instead of sitting down at the table where the man on the right had gestured I wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling window and stared out over the river and the city beyond. You could see the snowcapped mountain in the distance and the whole of the east side of the city below, it really was awe inspiring. I made an impatient gesture behind me without looking so they would just get on with it and I got a belly laugh. I turned around slowly, confused. All three of them had big grins looking at me.
"Heya there Jacob! How're you today?" The man in the middle asked joyfully.
"Life's a struggle" I replied flatly, rolling my eyes at the question. What did they care?
"Well, I'm soon it'll all get better soon here." The man on the left replied hopefully.
"I'm sure." I stated sarcastically. This wasn't going anywhere near like I had expected so far. I was getting worried about their smiles and suddenly felt like sitting down.
"So Jacob, tell me a little about yourself. What are you looking for? What can we do for each other?" Asked the man on the right.
"Ha! Not an office job, that's for sure." I shot back. "I'm a well documented job hopper, I don't know what I want and I'm just picking up whatever I can to feed myself until I find something I do want. So what's the job?"
The three men grinned at each other as if privately, nodding to each other as if I had answered perfectly.
"The job is pretty much our personal assistant. You help us with whatever we need and you get paid for it. We've already decided we want you. We'll do anything it takes to make you ours, you see, I really like your attitude."
That was when I really started to feel claustrophobic and light headed, I was supposed to be laughed out by now, but I'm being told I'm already hired? So I switched gears. "I've got a problem with authority." I blurted. Their grins just got wider.
"And I'm always partying! I can't be sober to save my life and I don't even have any experience!"
"That's all good! Means you can keep up and we want you trained our way! Welcome to capital Corp!"
On the way out, I was so nervous about what had transpired that I barfed in the potted plant by the door. I couldn't wait to get paid.
So this is the first time I've ever posted in a writing prompt. sorry for the grammar and all that, it's been a long time since I wrote anything.
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | Without a knock, I entered
a little office space.
Although a shock, she met me
with no sign of ill grace.
A hand outstretched, I slapped it
her eyes lit up with joy.
"Such arrogance is what we seek
in those that we employ!" | Sure I suppose this job is the opportunity to overcome my employment virginity that my family never fails to shame me over. I genuinely would really like to be employed and the lot, but I honestly couldn't work here, no, never. The walls are pasty, the ceiling fans are creaking, "only dumb nuts get into insurance anyways"
"Who are you calling a nut?" the bearded man with slightly too well groomed facial hair said through a mouth that was dimpled with pure joy. My face was anything but joyous, I mean sure I didn't want the job, but to be a jerk about it... how did that I let that slip out...
"Oh um uh..." all I could muster
"Hey now partner, I take no offence to your honesty, you really think I expect someone to be enthused about a male secretary position? I mean listen man its a paycheck , nothing more than that" Leaning in to shake my hand from his desk I failed to notice his warm posture signalling a greeting... I reciprocated darting like a lizard to his hand.
"Hey I'm uh real sorry"
"And I'm a real Rodney! Listen don't worry about it, lets just get started. How about that?"
"Well uh... to be honest then, I really don't want this job. I'm only here cause my my mom wants me to get a job an all that, listen you know the story I'll just go home, I really don't want to waste your time."
"Huh, hey man you know when I was your age, what are ya twenty?"
"Yeah around that, I'm twenty-two"
"Listen then, when I was your age all I did was question myself, I had no confidence, no drive, nothing kiddo!"
"Oh man, uh honestly I just think insurance is a boring gig, and being a male secretary is just a little not my speed" my head was swiveling in a jittery motion from my ever tightening neck. His face donned sympathy, I wasn't done... I couldn't just sink back in my chair at home and stair at my computer, no he was ready to accommodate me
"You know what kiddo! You need confidence and drive! Don't let the world shame you outta a job! Lucky for you your application has your moms contact info under emergency contacts, so you're getting this job regardless of your volition or intention." He was so proud of himself, he knew he was just a great person. I could tell he was satisfied. It seemed a little invasive, but you can't stop someone on a crusade sanctioned by the pope of empathy the twenty-second, god R/history is leaking into my thoughts maybe I really do need this job.
"Uh wow you are uh really insistent on this, I uh guess I can't really stop you, huh..." Well played almost slipped out too, but it wasn't a play I suppose. He Just a really wholesome dude.
"Listen squirt, You'll thank me later I promise! I'll call your mom tonight and make it more than clear to her the job is yours. You can head out now man, see you soon alright!" His manor of speaking increased in expediency and in a second I was walking out saying softly "Uh see you soon too" I felt a little violated, cause there would be no coming to head with my mom... Well damn I guess I'm employed now...
The phone rang, when the door to exit closed behind the newest employee walking to his car "Hey yup its Rodney, yeah get this! The emergency contact came through with the save, calling his mom tonight to tell her" The phone resting slyly on his ear awaiting a reply "Haha yup, guess he didn't read the reviews online! Hey his fault, we finally got the spot filled!"
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | I walked into his office, he had a notepad out, "Oh hello, you must be Gareth, come in, sit down." The Mustached boss said as I walked through the door.
He seemed nice at first, but I didn't want to work at a Roadkill Removal service.
"Well, tell me Gareth, what do you like to do in your free time?" The man said as he brandished his notepad and clicked his pen.
I tried to think of the worst thing I could possibly do in my free time, "I run a prank channel on YouTube!" I said in a panic.
"Very Intriguing, what kind of pranks do you like to do?" He said as wrote down what I had just said.
"Kissing pranks, a lot of sexual stuff, my most popular one is titled 'Making out with peoples girlfriends in the hood (Gone Deadly)'." I replied.
"Hmm, sounds hot!" He creepily said whilst writing down the quote.
I was panicking, I had to think of something, "You know, I also like to start grass-fires, big ones! And sometimes I like to kill little rabbits, for no reason, I find it pleasureful." I said whilst trying to snatch my own intentional defeat from the jaws of defeat.
"Oh yeah, that's why I joined the force in the first place, I love seeing dead animals! I like you, kid! You remind me of a younger version of myself." The interviewer said enthusiastically.
He wrote it down, "You know I'm a racist, total skinhead, yep!" I said in an attempt to deter the boss from hiring me.
"Oh, no way, me too! Sieg Heil!!" he said whilst doing a Nazi salute.
I was shocked at this mans racism, "Wow, this guy is horrible!" I though as the man wrote down that I'm a skinhead.
"I'm also a Scientologist!" I said desperately to the boss.
"No way, you too!" I got up and left as he said that, I slammed the door and ran out of the building as fast as possible.
"Hmm, he seemed nice." I heard him say from outside his office. | Sure I suppose this job is the opportunity to overcome my employment virginity that my family never fails to shame me over. I genuinely would really like to be employed and the lot, but I honestly couldn't work here, no, never. The walls are pasty, the ceiling fans are creaking, "only dumb nuts get into insurance anyways"
"Who are you calling a nut?" the bearded man with slightly too well groomed facial hair said through a mouth that was dimpled with pure joy. My face was anything but joyous, I mean sure I didn't want the job, but to be a jerk about it... how did that I let that slip out...
"Oh um uh..." all I could muster
"Hey now partner, I take no offence to your honesty, you really think I expect someone to be enthused about a male secretary position? I mean listen man its a paycheck , nothing more than that" Leaning in to shake my hand from his desk I failed to notice his warm posture signalling a greeting... I reciprocated darting like a lizard to his hand.
"Hey I'm uh real sorry"
"And I'm a real Rodney! Listen don't worry about it, lets just get started. How about that?"
"Well uh... to be honest then, I really don't want this job. I'm only here cause my my mom wants me to get a job an all that, listen you know the story I'll just go home, I really don't want to waste your time."
"Huh, hey man you know when I was your age, what are ya twenty?"
"Yeah around that, I'm twenty-two"
"Listen then, when I was your age all I did was question myself, I had no confidence, no drive, nothing kiddo!"
"Oh man, uh honestly I just think insurance is a boring gig, and being a male secretary is just a little not my speed" my head was swiveling in a jittery motion from my ever tightening neck. His face donned sympathy, I wasn't done... I couldn't just sink back in my chair at home and stair at my computer, no he was ready to accommodate me
"You know what kiddo! You need confidence and drive! Don't let the world shame you outta a job! Lucky for you your application has your moms contact info under emergency contacts, so you're getting this job regardless of your volition or intention." He was so proud of himself, he knew he was just a great person. I could tell he was satisfied. It seemed a little invasive, but you can't stop someone on a crusade sanctioned by the pope of empathy the twenty-second, god R/history is leaking into my thoughts maybe I really do need this job.
"Uh wow you are uh really insistent on this, I uh guess I can't really stop you, huh..." Well played almost slipped out too, but it wasn't a play I suppose. He Just a really wholesome dude.
"Listen squirt, You'll thank me later I promise! I'll call your mom tonight and make it more than clear to her the job is yours. You can head out now man, see you soon alright!" His manor of speaking increased in expediency and in a second I was walking out saying softly "Uh see you soon too" I felt a little violated, cause there would be no coming to head with my mom... Well damn I guess I'm employed now...
The phone rang, when the door to exit closed behind the newest employee walking to his car "Hey yup its Rodney, yeah get this! The emergency contact came through with the save, calling his mom tonight to tell her" The phone resting slyly on his ear awaiting a reply "Haha yup, guess he didn't read the reviews online! Hey his fault, we finally got the spot filled!"
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | [Contains Mild Vulgarity]
"Well Mr. Jones, I can see you're applying for our senior member position. I take it you've got the required ten years experience or some equivalent not listed on your resume?"
"Huh? No, uh, I actually just typed a hello world script once, no real world experience."
"Wonderful! Our HR staff wrote up these stupid requests but I really want an outsiders perspective on our team. Can you get started today?"
"Oh I've never done any sort of work other than manual labor. I would need at least a week of orientation. Maybe two depending on how I'm feeling."
"Sounds perfect! We can put you and our other new hire in a team to learn the ins and outs side by side! Those are exactly the kind of fresh ideas this company needs!"
"What? No, that was your idea."
"Modesty is the number one trait I look for in an underling!"
"Hey! I don't take kindly to being labeled by people who don't know me!"
"Straightforward take charge personalities are the number two trait!"
"I lied about having a job for three years on my resume expecting you to not even call my references. I've never held a job for more than three months!"
"Good, that means you're an open canvas to work with. We don't hire brainwashed goons here in our establishment."
"I mentioned I have a car? I don't, I was just planning to walk into work if I was feeling good enough that day, otherwise stay home."
"I can get you on medical as a priority to help with any chronic exhaustion or general sleepiness. Until you've fully recovered, take it one step at a time. We aim to avoid discrimination of those who wish to work."
"I think your face is stupid."
"Ha! Me too. I've been contemplating plastic surgery. I think this might just be the push I needed to go through with my decision. Thank you, you've saved me from a lifetime of wasted contemplation."
"Did Stacy put you up to this?! What did she offer you? Did she suck your cock?"
"I'm her dad."
"I'll take the job if you promise to forget I said that."
"Glad to have you." | Sure I suppose this job is the opportunity to overcome my employment virginity that my family never fails to shame me over. I genuinely would really like to be employed and the lot, but I honestly couldn't work here, no, never. The walls are pasty, the ceiling fans are creaking, "only dumb nuts get into insurance anyways"
"Who are you calling a nut?" the bearded man with slightly too well groomed facial hair said through a mouth that was dimpled with pure joy. My face was anything but joyous, I mean sure I didn't want the job, but to be a jerk about it... how did that I let that slip out...
"Oh um uh..." all I could muster
"Hey now partner, I take no offence to your honesty, you really think I expect someone to be enthused about a male secretary position? I mean listen man its a paycheck , nothing more than that" Leaning in to shake my hand from his desk I failed to notice his warm posture signalling a greeting... I reciprocated darting like a lizard to his hand.
"Hey I'm uh real sorry"
"And I'm a real Rodney! Listen don't worry about it, lets just get started. How about that?"
"Well uh... to be honest then, I really don't want this job. I'm only here cause my my mom wants me to get a job an all that, listen you know the story I'll just go home, I really don't want to waste your time."
"Huh, hey man you know when I was your age, what are ya twenty?"
"Yeah around that, I'm twenty-two"
"Listen then, when I was your age all I did was question myself, I had no confidence, no drive, nothing kiddo!"
"Oh man, uh honestly I just think insurance is a boring gig, and being a male secretary is just a little not my speed" my head was swiveling in a jittery motion from my ever tightening neck. His face donned sympathy, I wasn't done... I couldn't just sink back in my chair at home and stair at my computer, no he was ready to accommodate me
"You know what kiddo! You need confidence and drive! Don't let the world shame you outta a job! Lucky for you your application has your moms contact info under emergency contacts, so you're getting this job regardless of your volition or intention." He was so proud of himself, he knew he was just a great person. I could tell he was satisfied. It seemed a little invasive, but you can't stop someone on a crusade sanctioned by the pope of empathy the twenty-second, god R/history is leaking into my thoughts maybe I really do need this job.
"Uh wow you are uh really insistent on this, I uh guess I can't really stop you, huh..." Well played almost slipped out too, but it wasn't a play I suppose. He Just a really wholesome dude.
"Listen squirt, You'll thank me later I promise! I'll call your mom tonight and make it more than clear to her the job is yours. You can head out now man, see you soon alright!" His manor of speaking increased in expediency and in a second I was walking out saying softly "Uh see you soon too" I felt a little violated, cause there would be no coming to head with my mom... Well damn I guess I'm employed now...
The phone rang, when the door to exit closed behind the newest employee walking to his car "Hey yup its Rodney, yeah get this! The emergency contact came through with the save, calling his mom tonight to tell her" The phone resting slyly on his ear awaiting a reply "Haha yup, guess he didn't read the reviews online! Hey his fault, we finally got the spot filled!"
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | I spiraled into a deep depression when Susan left me; one where I could no longer get out of bed to show up to work. Shortly after being fired from my job, I lost my house, and moved in with my well-off brother and his wife. They didn't have any children, so at first, they didn't mind taking me in and feeding me. After about a year of living off of them, my brother decided that if I'm going to continue living there. I need to get a job. He sat behind me as I wrote up a resume, and he sent it to several places that were hiring. I wasn't ready to work, but I also wasn't ready to confess to my brother that I have completely given up on life at the moment. So what to do other than botch the interview?
I got up right around 11 in the morning, just in time to roll out of bed, and catch the bus to the office I was interviewing at. I slapped on my old college sweater, my finest cargo shorts, knee high black socks, and the most luxurious sandals in my small collection.
I would have arrived on time, but I didn't want to get hungry mid-interview, so I stopped at Chipotle and got a burrito. I jammed it into the front pocket of my sweater, and figured I'd have at it whenever I was struck with hunger.
I arrived to the office and checked in with the receptionist. She quickly became snotty when she informed me that I was 15 minutes late, and that she would need to check in with the boss to see if they would proceed with the interview. She left to go speak with him, and arrived back shortly, saying, "Alright, he's ready for you." She led me to his small office. As I opened the door; the boss didn't stand or even greet me. He looked down at his papers and excused the receptionist.
He peeled his eyes from his desk and eyed me up and down with utter disdain.
"You've got a lot of nerve showing up here like that."
I replied by taking the burrito out of pocket, and beginning to eat it while still standing at the door.
"Ole' Penn State... I'm a Stanford man ya' know..."
With a mouthful of burrito, I exclaimed, "That must mean I'm the smart one then."
He let out a rouceous laugh and invited me to sit. I declined the offer; explaining that I'd prefer to stand, as my alpha status doesn't allow me to put myself in a submissive position.
The boss stood from his desk, put his head down and in hushed tones he said, "I'm glad you've made your position here clear. I myself am not a passive man, and as such, I respect your claim to dominance. But I will in no way abide to it. If you ever try to make me your bitch, I promise you, blood will flow through the halls of this office like rivers of red." He came around from behind his desk, "Come with me." As he passed by me, he grabbed the burrito from my hands and began to eat it. He opened the door, and I followed behind. What else was I supposed to do? I was in shock as to what has occurred.
We went through the office building without uttering a single word to one another; through the halls, down the stairs, and ultimately to the parking lot. He had taken a few more bites out of my burrito on the way down, but when we got to the middle of the parking lot, he spiked it. He wound up his arm, and with half the burrito remaining, he slammed it to the pavement like a football. He loosened the tie from his neck, rolled up his sleeves, and calmly said to me, "Now is your chance to prove yourself, tough guy. Lets see who the real big shot is..."
He stepped up to me with his arms spread out wide like an eagle, "Come on alpha... lets see who you really are."
I began to speak for the first time since I initially told him I'm the alpha. My lips and body weren't working though, so I only managed to let out something that was somewhere in between and apology and a quiver.
The boss, still in my face, lightly laughed to himself. "That's what I thought."
There was a few moments of silence I attempted to break, "I think it's time for me to..."
"Stop. Talking." He cut me off. "Bathe in my strength; feel the epinephrine fill your veins, and let your mind consider the things I could do to you."
I did as I was told. He spent the next minute an inch from my face; staring into my soul.
He began speaking again, "You're afraid. I can feel it. It's not me that you're afraid of, no. It's this moment. You don't know what to do. You let yourself become my bitch, and you did as you were told, because you didn't know what would happen. And because I am not afraid of this moment, I have complete control over you. I am your daddy."
He backed off slightly and put his hand on my shoulder; "But when I looked into your eyes; I saw a strength that's not human. I saw something unreal; something that would make the strongest men feint at it's presence. I saw a true alpha-male. A lord of all things natural. I can teach you how to harness it... you start on Monday. I am your master, you are my pupil. You are not to tell anyone of our arrangement; just stick to your desk, look busy, and I will call you into my office when the time is right."
He left.
I'm not sure what the fuck happened; but I guess I got the job.
| Sure I suppose this job is the opportunity to overcome my employment virginity that my family never fails to shame me over. I genuinely would really like to be employed and the lot, but I honestly couldn't work here, no, never. The walls are pasty, the ceiling fans are creaking, "only dumb nuts get into insurance anyways"
"Who are you calling a nut?" the bearded man with slightly too well groomed facial hair said through a mouth that was dimpled with pure joy. My face was anything but joyous, I mean sure I didn't want the job, but to be a jerk about it... how did that I let that slip out...
"Oh um uh..." all I could muster
"Hey now partner, I take no offence to your honesty, you really think I expect someone to be enthused about a male secretary position? I mean listen man its a paycheck , nothing more than that" Leaning in to shake my hand from his desk I failed to notice his warm posture signalling a greeting... I reciprocated darting like a lizard to his hand.
"Hey I'm uh real sorry"
"And I'm a real Rodney! Listen don't worry about it, lets just get started. How about that?"
"Well uh... to be honest then, I really don't want this job. I'm only here cause my my mom wants me to get a job an all that, listen you know the story I'll just go home, I really don't want to waste your time."
"Huh, hey man you know when I was your age, what are ya twenty?"
"Yeah around that, I'm twenty-two"
"Listen then, when I was your age all I did was question myself, I had no confidence, no drive, nothing kiddo!"
"Oh man, uh honestly I just think insurance is a boring gig, and being a male secretary is just a little not my speed" my head was swiveling in a jittery motion from my ever tightening neck. His face donned sympathy, I wasn't done... I couldn't just sink back in my chair at home and stair at my computer, no he was ready to accommodate me
"You know what kiddo! You need confidence and drive! Don't let the world shame you outta a job! Lucky for you your application has your moms contact info under emergency contacts, so you're getting this job regardless of your volition or intention." He was so proud of himself, he knew he was just a great person. I could tell he was satisfied. It seemed a little invasive, but you can't stop someone on a crusade sanctioned by the pope of empathy the twenty-second, god R/history is leaking into my thoughts maybe I really do need this job.
"Uh wow you are uh really insistent on this, I uh guess I can't really stop you, huh..." Well played almost slipped out too, but it wasn't a play I suppose. He Just a really wholesome dude.
"Listen squirt, You'll thank me later I promise! I'll call your mom tonight and make it more than clear to her the job is yours. You can head out now man, see you soon alright!" His manor of speaking increased in expediency and in a second I was walking out saying softly "Uh see you soon too" I felt a little violated, cause there would be no coming to head with my mom... Well damn I guess I'm employed now...
The phone rang, when the door to exit closed behind the newest employee walking to his car "Hey yup its Rodney, yeah get this! The emergency contact came through with the save, calling his mom tonight to tell her" The phone resting slyly on his ear awaiting a reply "Haha yup, guess he didn't read the reviews online! Hey his fault, we finally got the spot filled!"
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | "I'm also a drug user. Copious amounts!" I can hear my own disbelief.
The interviewer shrugs. "You're in your prime, Mr. Johnson. Not many men can run the football quite as well as you."
"I have an arrest record."
"Yes, and a rushing record. That's why you're here."
"Wh...what? I'm saying I have a real problem, man. I'm a kid, mid to early 20's. I come from nothing. And now I've been given tens of millions of dollars. I don't know how to handle that kind of money or the attention that comes with it. I spent three years in a college that encouraged me to take the easiest fucking classes so I can pass and play. Most of my teammates read at a 5th grade level, some were illiterate. And now I'm... I'm in too deep, man. For fucks sake, I see my face on fucking billboards, I'm on tv! I'm a brand! My ego walks into the room before I do and it's palpable. Women throw themselves at me. And for what? It's no surprise I turn to drugs to cope. But that's what I'm saying, man. I need help... I got a problem."
"How's your knee holding up?"
"Excuse me?"
"Your knees, Mr. Johnson. They checked out in your physical but we want to hear it from you. How are your knees?"
"....They're fine, man."
"Fantastic! Sign here."
"Okay, okay. Wait... I've hit women in the past. I mean... I mean, I'm not proud of it. Not at all. I hate myself for it. Can you understand me though? My professional working life is spent pummeling others and getting pummeled on a weekly basis and tens of thousands of mongoloids watch and celebrate. Even since I was a fucking child, I have been praised by my ability to physically brutalize others. I'm not proud of it. No. But I just don't know how to handle my anger, my problems. I've never learned another way. Why? Because I've never needed to. I think I deserve something, I have an inflated sense of who I am. The truth is, I'm a barbarian. Its what people pay me to do, people like you."
"Just sign here, Mr. Johnson. Welcome to the team." | Sure I suppose this job is the opportunity to overcome my employment virginity that my family never fails to shame me over. I genuinely would really like to be employed and the lot, but I honestly couldn't work here, no, never. The walls are pasty, the ceiling fans are creaking, "only dumb nuts get into insurance anyways"
"Who are you calling a nut?" the bearded man with slightly too well groomed facial hair said through a mouth that was dimpled with pure joy. My face was anything but joyous, I mean sure I didn't want the job, but to be a jerk about it... how did that I let that slip out...
"Oh um uh..." all I could muster
"Hey now partner, I take no offence to your honesty, you really think I expect someone to be enthused about a male secretary position? I mean listen man its a paycheck , nothing more than that" Leaning in to shake my hand from his desk I failed to notice his warm posture signalling a greeting... I reciprocated darting like a lizard to his hand.
"Hey I'm uh real sorry"
"And I'm a real Rodney! Listen don't worry about it, lets just get started. How about that?"
"Well uh... to be honest then, I really don't want this job. I'm only here cause my my mom wants me to get a job an all that, listen you know the story I'll just go home, I really don't want to waste your time."
"Huh, hey man you know when I was your age, what are ya twenty?"
"Yeah around that, I'm twenty-two"
"Listen then, when I was your age all I did was question myself, I had no confidence, no drive, nothing kiddo!"
"Oh man, uh honestly I just think insurance is a boring gig, and being a male secretary is just a little not my speed" my head was swiveling in a jittery motion from my ever tightening neck. His face donned sympathy, I wasn't done... I couldn't just sink back in my chair at home and stair at my computer, no he was ready to accommodate me
"You know what kiddo! You need confidence and drive! Don't let the world shame you outta a job! Lucky for you your application has your moms contact info under emergency contacts, so you're getting this job regardless of your volition or intention." He was so proud of himself, he knew he was just a great person. I could tell he was satisfied. It seemed a little invasive, but you can't stop someone on a crusade sanctioned by the pope of empathy the twenty-second, god R/history is leaking into my thoughts maybe I really do need this job.
"Uh wow you are uh really insistent on this, I uh guess I can't really stop you, huh..." Well played almost slipped out too, but it wasn't a play I suppose. He Just a really wholesome dude.
"Listen squirt, You'll thank me later I promise! I'll call your mom tonight and make it more than clear to her the job is yours. You can head out now man, see you soon alright!" His manor of speaking increased in expediency and in a second I was walking out saying softly "Uh see you soon too" I felt a little violated, cause there would be no coming to head with my mom... Well damn I guess I'm employed now...
The phone rang, when the door to exit closed behind the newest employee walking to his car "Hey yup its Rodney, yeah get this! The emergency contact came through with the save, calling his mom tonight to tell her" The phone resting slyly on his ear awaiting a reply "Haha yup, guess he didn't read the reviews online! Hey his fault, we finally got the spot filled!"
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | I stared over my monitor at the newest recruit, probably for longer than absolutely necessary. I hid my sweating palms and my shaking hands behind my desk. It had gone on so long...
"Look. You have all the qualifications we're looking for. All I need is your signature, and you'll be set. But... how about we grab a coffee first?"
The young man smiled and agreed. What did he know? He wanted to get in good with whoever pulled enough weight he could make a paycheck. I understood that.
"Before you sign anything... This job isn't what you think it is. Frankly, I have no idea what it is. Nobody does. I started here almost twelve years ago. I didn't even want the position; my parents made me apply..."
---
Wearing a stained T-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, sporting a lovely three-day growth of untrimmed beard, I waltzed into Business Corporation Associates, Inc., and tossed a grubby resume on the secretary's desk. "Interview with wassname."
The secretary, full of professionalism, smiled warmly. "Mr. Manager is waiting in his office, please go through."
I shrugged through the door and plopped down sideways in a chair. Mr. Manager stood, offering his hand; I handed him my gum wrapper. All he did was chuckle and toss the wrapper in the trash. "Glad to see the youth are thinking about the environment these days," he rumbled. "Back in my day, kids just tossed their trash on the ground. Now, young man, I hear you're interested in a position here!"
I shrugged. "Meh. It wasn't my idea. Parents said I needed a job."
He chuckled again. "You listen to your parents, eh? If only my kids were as polite! Now, tell me - what are you looking for in our company?"
I locked eyes with him, holding my gaze until it was long past uncomfortable. "Nothing. Get it?"
He nodded as if I had made some deep comment, and answered, "Of course, of course. Ask not what your company can do for you, and all that. Very dedicated! What would you say to a management position?"
I stared at him incredulously. My plan had been another summer lounging around my parent's basement, playing video games. It almost sounded like this man was going to offer me a job in spite of my actions! I sat up. "No way, man. I'm not about to sign up to be some money-grubbing pencil-pusher like you."
I thought about it for a second, then just in case, added, "Corporate freak."
Mr. Manager grinned. "Good! I'm glad to hear it! Too many kids these days want a clear shot to the top, no effort. Working your way up from the bottom, that's the ticket! Learn from the little guy!"
He stood, rubbing his hands together. "Young man, I would like to introduce you to someone. Mr. Engineer. I think you'll hit it off just fine. Back in a tick, eh?"
He rounded his desk, pushed through the doors, and headed down the hall as I broke out in a cold sweat. I didn't know how to do... well, anything! Whatever they put me in, it would definitely not be video games. And if I *lost* a job... well, let's just say that it would be better to have never tried at all that to have tried and failed, no matter what . Dad was very particular about "honest work," and he was prepared to back that up. But if last year had taught me anything, it was that if I couldn't get a job, I was fine. I needed to do something. Anything. What was the worst thing I could do? I gave a sidelong glance at the leather-covered desk. Maybe... if I left an, er, gift? But just before I could unzip my pants, the door swung open. Startled and already more than a little jumpy, I whirled, bringing my fist around in a wide punch that smacked right into the face of, I presume, Mr. Engineer.
His head bounced off the wall, the door, and two chairs before it came to rest on the floor. Mr. Manager walked in to find me staring down at the unconscious, and likely wildly concussed, form. "Oh good heavens! Come with me, straight to security!"
Well, it wasn't what I'd planned, but as long as they didn't press charges, this was the best outcome I could have hoped for! Or at least, that's what I thought.
Jittery from the sudden influx of adrenaline, I missed the first part of what Mr. Manager told the security guard. I tuned in to hear him finish, "This young man laid him out with a single punch!"
Two other security officers had dashed upstairs half way through, likely trying to restore Mr. Engineer to life. The security man, a beefy, middle-aged fellow with a name tag the read "Security," and in smaller letters, "B. Security," held out his hand. Meekly, I held out both of mine... and blinked when he grabbed my right hand and started pumping it up and down. "Good work, son. I don't know how that man slipped past security, but if it wasn't for your quick wits, it might have been 1992 all over again."
As my jaw dropped in absolute horror, Mr. Manager clapped me on the shoulder. "You don't even need to sign anything, young man, we'll get it all sorted when you come in next week. Don't worry about coming in until Monday, you rest up! I'm sure this was quite the ordeal!"
I was hardly out the front door before the man I'd knocked out was being lead outside in cuffs. What had I gotten myself in to?
---
I stared down into my coffee cup. "That wasn't the worst of it, of course. When I started, I was trying to avoid work, but every time I slipped away, someone caught me brainstorming - that is, sleeping - or team-building - that is, playing video games on my work computer. Every move I made, I was praised. I got raise after raise..."
I lifted my eyes to those of the young man on the other side of the table. He seemed a little unsure of himself. "But... isn't that a dream come true?"
I leaned over the table. He flinched back. Good, he *should* be scared.
"No, kid, you don't get it. People call me every day, asking if the Paper Report is ready, or if the Sheet Documents have been signed. I make things up. I sat in on a random meeting because they had donuts, and somehow saved the company a million dollars. Or rubles. I don't know. Maybe it was Zimbabwean dollars. That's not the point, though. I've given presentations that were nothing but the blank templates, and gotten *standing ovations*. It's insane! It's mind boggling!"
The kid pushed his half-filled mug to the side, surreptitiously glancing at his watch. "So... uh... you really have no idea what you're doing?"
I shook my head. "You're not listening. *No one* knows what they're doing. No one! Everyone talks about nothing! They give vague figures, present charts and graphs that have been lifted off Google Image Search - like, the first images - and act like they know what they're doing! Everyone does it, and everyone else acts like they're the greatest thing since NASA! The whole company is mad - **mad** I tell you!"
I slumped weakly back against my chair, wiping the spittle from my lips. The kid looked a little more sure of himself, now. Maybe I gave him an out. Maybe the poor fool could get out, while there was still time.
He nodded sagely. "Ah! I understand what you're saying!"
I almost wept with relief. He understood! It wasn't just me! Finally, there was someone I could connect with, someone who-
"So you're saying it's a marketing firm - right? Awesome! When do I start?" | Sure I suppose this job is the opportunity to overcome my employment virginity that my family never fails to shame me over. I genuinely would really like to be employed and the lot, but I honestly couldn't work here, no, never. The walls are pasty, the ceiling fans are creaking, "only dumb nuts get into insurance anyways"
"Who are you calling a nut?" the bearded man with slightly too well groomed facial hair said through a mouth that was dimpled with pure joy. My face was anything but joyous, I mean sure I didn't want the job, but to be a jerk about it... how did that I let that slip out...
"Oh um uh..." all I could muster
"Hey now partner, I take no offence to your honesty, you really think I expect someone to be enthused about a male secretary position? I mean listen man its a paycheck , nothing more than that" Leaning in to shake my hand from his desk I failed to notice his warm posture signalling a greeting... I reciprocated darting like a lizard to his hand.
"Hey I'm uh real sorry"
"And I'm a real Rodney! Listen don't worry about it, lets just get started. How about that?"
"Well uh... to be honest then, I really don't want this job. I'm only here cause my my mom wants me to get a job an all that, listen you know the story I'll just go home, I really don't want to waste your time."
"Huh, hey man you know when I was your age, what are ya twenty?"
"Yeah around that, I'm twenty-two"
"Listen then, when I was your age all I did was question myself, I had no confidence, no drive, nothing kiddo!"
"Oh man, uh honestly I just think insurance is a boring gig, and being a male secretary is just a little not my speed" my head was swiveling in a jittery motion from my ever tightening neck. His face donned sympathy, I wasn't done... I couldn't just sink back in my chair at home and stair at my computer, no he was ready to accommodate me
"You know what kiddo! You need confidence and drive! Don't let the world shame you outta a job! Lucky for you your application has your moms contact info under emergency contacts, so you're getting this job regardless of your volition or intention." He was so proud of himself, he knew he was just a great person. I could tell he was satisfied. It seemed a little invasive, but you can't stop someone on a crusade sanctioned by the pope of empathy the twenty-second, god R/history is leaking into my thoughts maybe I really do need this job.
"Uh wow you are uh really insistent on this, I uh guess I can't really stop you, huh..." Well played almost slipped out too, but it wasn't a play I suppose. He Just a really wholesome dude.
"Listen squirt, You'll thank me later I promise! I'll call your mom tonight and make it more than clear to her the job is yours. You can head out now man, see you soon alright!" His manor of speaking increased in expediency and in a second I was walking out saying softly "Uh see you soon too" I felt a little violated, cause there would be no coming to head with my mom... Well damn I guess I'm employed now...
The phone rang, when the door to exit closed behind the newest employee walking to his car "Hey yup its Rodney, yeah get this! The emergency contact came through with the save, calling his mom tonight to tell her" The phone resting slyly on his ear awaiting a reply "Haha yup, guess he didn't read the reviews online! Hey his fault, we finally got the spot filled!"
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | The water bottle was obviously full of something other than water. I took small sips in the waiting room, the smell of vodka stinging my eyes even with the orange juice to water it down.
I had somewhere to be and it wasn’t in a job interview.
“It’s good practice,” my wife had encouraged. “You just need to get back on that horse and give it a try.” She’d told me when I was asked to come in for the job.
“I don’t think I want it,” I’d confided in her. But there was no arguing with her at that point.
“Joseph Gordons?” The receptionist called my name. A tall thin man stood next to her, a dour look on his face. He shook my hand wordlessly and gestured for me to follow him. I ambled along behind him into a tight conference room. The lighting was fluorescent and room dingy. I half wanted to leave right then but I’d promised my wife I’d stay.
“Joseph, good of you to come in,” the man said. “I’m Hank Norbitt, I do the hiring for the programming department, I find that HR doesn’t really understand programmers.” His voice reminded me of Eeyore. Once I started thinking about the sad donkey I could also see a resemblance in his expression.
We settled into chairs on the corner of the table. I leaned my left arm on the table and set the water bottle down. Hank got comfortable as I began to speak.
“I understand that some programmers have social issues, I’m not really one of them. I paid for university working as a bartender and spent all kinds of time with people, at the bar, after the bar. The morning before going back to work,” I replied probably too honestly. I’d told my wife I’d give it an honest try but I wanted to tank the interview and go. “I met my wife bartending.”
“Was that a bar in town?”
“Yea, Phil’s by Laurier. I learned a lot of skills there I’ve found applicable in other places,” I took a sip of my screwdriver before continuing. Hank leaned forward seeming intrigued. I’d led him here and prepared to drop an answer that’ll have him excusing me. “I learned how to keep my mouth shut, the bikers used to deal coke out of the back and I needed to make sure I didn’t show up on their radar. I learned how to break up a fight – you never know when you’ll need to convince a man to drop a knife. Every Friday these days it seems.”
“You like to go out then? Party?” Hank’s eyes lit up, I was a little concerned that he was getting too into my answers.
“Sometimes. I don’t do drugs anymore, almost OD’d at my last job – that’s why I’m looking for work, had some trouble with painkillers and needed to take some time off, get better,” I was lying now.
“Now that’s interesting, you sound like you’re very good at recognizing your own flaws, that’s a strong quality in an employee,” Hank seemed far too into what I was saying and I wanted to get him to let me go.
“I can see where I’ve fallen down, unless I’ve had too much to drink!” I exclaimed and laughed a bit louder than I probably should have.
“Well, I do have some questions for you,” Hank glanced at the sheet in front of him, “first, if you could be any animal what would you be?”
“I’d be a duck, their penises are the ultimate multi-tool,” I replied, half-serious. The alcohol was having the desired effect and I wasn’t tasting the vodka as much now. I committed to myself that I’d answer the questions quickly and just move through this stupid formality. I glanced at my watch – I needed to be out of here in ten minutes.
“Oh that’s an original one, love that, I’ll have to use it sometime. Next what is your greatest weakness?” Hank asked with a smile.
“Alcoholism.”
“I appreciate the honesty. I like that in an employee. Now how many gas stations do you think are in the US?”
“At least 12.”
“Well you’re not wrong, and I supposed that’s what I get for asking a programmer that question – you’re up on your internet jokes right?” Hank laughed at his own comment, my grim expression started to break and I smiled with him for a moment. I took a swig of the alcohol. “Where do you see yourself in five years?”
Five years. I used to know where I’d be, until a week ago I’d have had an answer. “I don’t,” the smile that had been growing was lost again. Hank’s laid a hand on my arm.
“If you need to talk…”
“I think it’d be best if we move on with the questions, I don’t like to bring personal issues into work,” I interrupted. I didn’t know him and didn’t need this right now.
“Right, ok. How honest would you say you are?”
“Very,” I didn’t think I needed to elaborate, I’ve only told a couple lies so far.
“Alright, last one – how would your family feel about you working long hours?”
“I don’t have a family,” I replied without explanation.
“You mentioned your wife,” he began.
“She’s dead.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Hank replied. His look quizzical and I knew what was coming next. One of two questions that I’d been asked so many times recently.
“Drunk driver hit her car two days ago. She kicked it. I actually need to go now. Her visitation starts in half an hour and it’s a twenty minute drive,” I replied, standing. I wobbled a bit. I didn’t mean to but I did.
“Are you…”
“Driving? No, I’m not the goddamn moron who killed her.”
“I’ll give you a call, about the job, but can I ask one last question?” Hank watched me. I hesitated and nodded, “why did you take the interview? Why not cancel or reschedule?”
“I made my wife a promise that I’d come,” I replied. “I don’t think her death releases me from that.”
| Sure I suppose this job is the opportunity to overcome my employment virginity that my family never fails to shame me over. I genuinely would really like to be employed and the lot, but I honestly couldn't work here, no, never. The walls are pasty, the ceiling fans are creaking, "only dumb nuts get into insurance anyways"
"Who are you calling a nut?" the bearded man with slightly too well groomed facial hair said through a mouth that was dimpled with pure joy. My face was anything but joyous, I mean sure I didn't want the job, but to be a jerk about it... how did that I let that slip out...
"Oh um uh..." all I could muster
"Hey now partner, I take no offence to your honesty, you really think I expect someone to be enthused about a male secretary position? I mean listen man its a paycheck , nothing more than that" Leaning in to shake my hand from his desk I failed to notice his warm posture signalling a greeting... I reciprocated darting like a lizard to his hand.
"Hey I'm uh real sorry"
"And I'm a real Rodney! Listen don't worry about it, lets just get started. How about that?"
"Well uh... to be honest then, I really don't want this job. I'm only here cause my my mom wants me to get a job an all that, listen you know the story I'll just go home, I really don't want to waste your time."
"Huh, hey man you know when I was your age, what are ya twenty?"
"Yeah around that, I'm twenty-two"
"Listen then, when I was your age all I did was question myself, I had no confidence, no drive, nothing kiddo!"
"Oh man, uh honestly I just think insurance is a boring gig, and being a male secretary is just a little not my speed" my head was swiveling in a jittery motion from my ever tightening neck. His face donned sympathy, I wasn't done... I couldn't just sink back in my chair at home and stair at my computer, no he was ready to accommodate me
"You know what kiddo! You need confidence and drive! Don't let the world shame you outta a job! Lucky for you your application has your moms contact info under emergency contacts, so you're getting this job regardless of your volition or intention." He was so proud of himself, he knew he was just a great person. I could tell he was satisfied. It seemed a little invasive, but you can't stop someone on a crusade sanctioned by the pope of empathy the twenty-second, god R/history is leaking into my thoughts maybe I really do need this job.
"Uh wow you are uh really insistent on this, I uh guess I can't really stop you, huh..." Well played almost slipped out too, but it wasn't a play I suppose. He Just a really wholesome dude.
"Listen squirt, You'll thank me later I promise! I'll call your mom tonight and make it more than clear to her the job is yours. You can head out now man, see you soon alright!" His manor of speaking increased in expediency and in a second I was walking out saying softly "Uh see you soon too" I felt a little violated, cause there would be no coming to head with my mom... Well damn I guess I'm employed now...
The phone rang, when the door to exit closed behind the newest employee walking to his car "Hey yup its Rodney, yeah get this! The emergency contact came through with the save, calling his mom tonight to tell her" The phone resting slyly on his ear awaiting a reply "Haha yup, guess he didn't read the reviews online! Hey his fault, we finally got the spot filled!"
| |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | Without a knock, I entered
a little office space.
Although a shock, she met me
with no sign of ill grace.
A hand outstretched, I slapped it
her eyes lit up with joy.
"Such arrogance is what we seek
in those that we employ!" | "You know, casual friday is not something we take lightly around here." As he stands from his comfortable leather chair, "it might seem odd to you, but the fact that you did your homework and came in with a spongebob bottom, batman top and loafers... Tells me you've prepared for this battle. Even though your feet are resting on my desk while you slurp a gogurt and continuously stare at your phone, that tells me you've come prepared..."
"But i......"
I was cut off by certainty and aplaud.
"What you don't understand captain underpants, is i've seen your type, and studied considerable applicants. And for you to come into my office for an interview wearing that atrocity is frankly.... Unnerving and a little disrespectful."
He opens up his calvin klein bathrobe to show me his answer.
Powerpuff girls shorts with a yu-gi-oh shirt and cookie monster socks..
" you are an amateur! But welcome! We are always hiring in the mail room." | |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | [Contains Mild Vulgarity]
"Well Mr. Jones, I can see you're applying for our senior member position. I take it you've got the required ten years experience or some equivalent not listed on your resume?"
"Huh? No, uh, I actually just typed a hello world script once, no real world experience."
"Wonderful! Our HR staff wrote up these stupid requests but I really want an outsiders perspective on our team. Can you get started today?"
"Oh I've never done any sort of work other than manual labor. I would need at least a week of orientation. Maybe two depending on how I'm feeling."
"Sounds perfect! We can put you and our other new hire in a team to learn the ins and outs side by side! Those are exactly the kind of fresh ideas this company needs!"
"What? No, that was your idea."
"Modesty is the number one trait I look for in an underling!"
"Hey! I don't take kindly to being labeled by people who don't know me!"
"Straightforward take charge personalities are the number two trait!"
"I lied about having a job for three years on my resume expecting you to not even call my references. I've never held a job for more than three months!"
"Good, that means you're an open canvas to work with. We don't hire brainwashed goons here in our establishment."
"I mentioned I have a car? I don't, I was just planning to walk into work if I was feeling good enough that day, otherwise stay home."
"I can get you on medical as a priority to help with any chronic exhaustion or general sleepiness. Until you've fully recovered, take it one step at a time. We aim to avoid discrimination of those who wish to work."
"I think your face is stupid."
"Ha! Me too. I've been contemplating plastic surgery. I think this might just be the push I needed to go through with my decision. Thank you, you've saved me from a lifetime of wasted contemplation."
"Did Stacy put you up to this?! What did she offer you? Did she suck your cock?"
"I'm her dad."
"I'll take the job if you promise to forget I said that."
"Glad to have you." | "You know, casual friday is not something we take lightly around here." As he stands from his comfortable leather chair, "it might seem odd to you, but the fact that you did your homework and came in with a spongebob bottom, batman top and loafers... Tells me you've prepared for this battle. Even though your feet are resting on my desk while you slurp a gogurt and continuously stare at your phone, that tells me you've come prepared..."
"But i......"
I was cut off by certainty and aplaud.
"What you don't understand captain underpants, is i've seen your type, and studied considerable applicants. And for you to come into my office for an interview wearing that atrocity is frankly.... Unnerving and a little disrespectful."
He opens up his calvin klein bathrobe to show me his answer.
Powerpuff girls shorts with a yu-gi-oh shirt and cookie monster socks..
" you are an amateur! But welcome! We are always hiring in the mail room." | |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | I stared over my monitor at the newest recruit, probably for longer than absolutely necessary. I hid my sweating palms and my shaking hands behind my desk. It had gone on so long...
"Look. You have all the qualifications we're looking for. All I need is your signature, and you'll be set. But... how about we grab a coffee first?"
The young man smiled and agreed. What did he know? He wanted to get in good with whoever pulled enough weight he could make a paycheck. I understood that.
"Before you sign anything... This job isn't what you think it is. Frankly, I have no idea what it is. Nobody does. I started here almost twelve years ago. I didn't even want the position; my parents made me apply..."
---
Wearing a stained T-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, sporting a lovely three-day growth of untrimmed beard, I waltzed into Business Corporation Associates, Inc., and tossed a grubby resume on the secretary's desk. "Interview with wassname."
The secretary, full of professionalism, smiled warmly. "Mr. Manager is waiting in his office, please go through."
I shrugged through the door and plopped down sideways in a chair. Mr. Manager stood, offering his hand; I handed him my gum wrapper. All he did was chuckle and toss the wrapper in the trash. "Glad to see the youth are thinking about the environment these days," he rumbled. "Back in my day, kids just tossed their trash on the ground. Now, young man, I hear you're interested in a position here!"
I shrugged. "Meh. It wasn't my idea. Parents said I needed a job."
He chuckled again. "You listen to your parents, eh? If only my kids were as polite! Now, tell me - what are you looking for in our company?"
I locked eyes with him, holding my gaze until it was long past uncomfortable. "Nothing. Get it?"
He nodded as if I had made some deep comment, and answered, "Of course, of course. Ask not what your company can do for you, and all that. Very dedicated! What would you say to a management position?"
I stared at him incredulously. My plan had been another summer lounging around my parent's basement, playing video games. It almost sounded like this man was going to offer me a job in spite of my actions! I sat up. "No way, man. I'm not about to sign up to be some money-grubbing pencil-pusher like you."
I thought about it for a second, then just in case, added, "Corporate freak."
Mr. Manager grinned. "Good! I'm glad to hear it! Too many kids these days want a clear shot to the top, no effort. Working your way up from the bottom, that's the ticket! Learn from the little guy!"
He stood, rubbing his hands together. "Young man, I would like to introduce you to someone. Mr. Engineer. I think you'll hit it off just fine. Back in a tick, eh?"
He rounded his desk, pushed through the doors, and headed down the hall as I broke out in a cold sweat. I didn't know how to do... well, anything! Whatever they put me in, it would definitely not be video games. And if I *lost* a job... well, let's just say that it would be better to have never tried at all that to have tried and failed, no matter what . Dad was very particular about "honest work," and he was prepared to back that up. But if last year had taught me anything, it was that if I couldn't get a job, I was fine. I needed to do something. Anything. What was the worst thing I could do? I gave a sidelong glance at the leather-covered desk. Maybe... if I left an, er, gift? But just before I could unzip my pants, the door swung open. Startled and already more than a little jumpy, I whirled, bringing my fist around in a wide punch that smacked right into the face of, I presume, Mr. Engineer.
His head bounced off the wall, the door, and two chairs before it came to rest on the floor. Mr. Manager walked in to find me staring down at the unconscious, and likely wildly concussed, form. "Oh good heavens! Come with me, straight to security!"
Well, it wasn't what I'd planned, but as long as they didn't press charges, this was the best outcome I could have hoped for! Or at least, that's what I thought.
Jittery from the sudden influx of adrenaline, I missed the first part of what Mr. Manager told the security guard. I tuned in to hear him finish, "This young man laid him out with a single punch!"
Two other security officers had dashed upstairs half way through, likely trying to restore Mr. Engineer to life. The security man, a beefy, middle-aged fellow with a name tag the read "Security," and in smaller letters, "B. Security," held out his hand. Meekly, I held out both of mine... and blinked when he grabbed my right hand and started pumping it up and down. "Good work, son. I don't know how that man slipped past security, but if it wasn't for your quick wits, it might have been 1992 all over again."
As my jaw dropped in absolute horror, Mr. Manager clapped me on the shoulder. "You don't even need to sign anything, young man, we'll get it all sorted when you come in next week. Don't worry about coming in until Monday, you rest up! I'm sure this was quite the ordeal!"
I was hardly out the front door before the man I'd knocked out was being lead outside in cuffs. What had I gotten myself in to?
---
I stared down into my coffee cup. "That wasn't the worst of it, of course. When I started, I was trying to avoid work, but every time I slipped away, someone caught me brainstorming - that is, sleeping - or team-building - that is, playing video games on my work computer. Every move I made, I was praised. I got raise after raise..."
I lifted my eyes to those of the young man on the other side of the table. He seemed a little unsure of himself. "But... isn't that a dream come true?"
I leaned over the table. He flinched back. Good, he *should* be scared.
"No, kid, you don't get it. People call me every day, asking if the Paper Report is ready, or if the Sheet Documents have been signed. I make things up. I sat in on a random meeting because they had donuts, and somehow saved the company a million dollars. Or rubles. I don't know. Maybe it was Zimbabwean dollars. That's not the point, though. I've given presentations that were nothing but the blank templates, and gotten *standing ovations*. It's insane! It's mind boggling!"
The kid pushed his half-filled mug to the side, surreptitiously glancing at his watch. "So... uh... you really have no idea what you're doing?"
I shook my head. "You're not listening. *No one* knows what they're doing. No one! Everyone talks about nothing! They give vague figures, present charts and graphs that have been lifted off Google Image Search - like, the first images - and act like they know what they're doing! Everyone does it, and everyone else acts like they're the greatest thing since NASA! The whole company is mad - **mad** I tell you!"
I slumped weakly back against my chair, wiping the spittle from my lips. The kid looked a little more sure of himself, now. Maybe I gave him an out. Maybe the poor fool could get out, while there was still time.
He nodded sagely. "Ah! I understand what you're saying!"
I almost wept with relief. He understood! It wasn't just me! Finally, there was someone I could connect with, someone who-
"So you're saying it's a marketing firm - right? Awesome! When do I start?" | "You know, casual friday is not something we take lightly around here." As he stands from his comfortable leather chair, "it might seem odd to you, but the fact that you did your homework and came in with a spongebob bottom, batman top and loafers... Tells me you've prepared for this battle. Even though your feet are resting on my desk while you slurp a gogurt and continuously stare at your phone, that tells me you've come prepared..."
"But i......"
I was cut off by certainty and aplaud.
"What you don't understand captain underpants, is i've seen your type, and studied considerable applicants. And for you to come into my office for an interview wearing that atrocity is frankly.... Unnerving and a little disrespectful."
He opens up his calvin klein bathrobe to show me his answer.
Powerpuff girls shorts with a yu-gi-oh shirt and cookie monster socks..
" you are an amateur! But welcome! We are always hiring in the mail room." | |
[WP] You were forced to attend an interview for a job you do not want, but, no matter how hard you try to screw up the interview, the interviewer just becomes more keen to hire you. | [Contains Mild Vulgarity]
"Well Mr. Jones, I can see you're applying for our senior member position. I take it you've got the required ten years experience or some equivalent not listed on your resume?"
"Huh? No, uh, I actually just typed a hello world script once, no real world experience."
"Wonderful! Our HR staff wrote up these stupid requests but I really want an outsiders perspective on our team. Can you get started today?"
"Oh I've never done any sort of work other than manual labor. I would need at least a week of orientation. Maybe two depending on how I'm feeling."
"Sounds perfect! We can put you and our other new hire in a team to learn the ins and outs side by side! Those are exactly the kind of fresh ideas this company needs!"
"What? No, that was your idea."
"Modesty is the number one trait I look for in an underling!"
"Hey! I don't take kindly to being labeled by people who don't know me!"
"Straightforward take charge personalities are the number two trait!"
"I lied about having a job for three years on my resume expecting you to not even call my references. I've never held a job for more than three months!"
"Good, that means you're an open canvas to work with. We don't hire brainwashed goons here in our establishment."
"I mentioned I have a car? I don't, I was just planning to walk into work if I was feeling good enough that day, otherwise stay home."
"I can get you on medical as a priority to help with any chronic exhaustion or general sleepiness. Until you've fully recovered, take it one step at a time. We aim to avoid discrimination of those who wish to work."
"I think your face is stupid."
"Ha! Me too. I've been contemplating plastic surgery. I think this might just be the push I needed to go through with my decision. Thank you, you've saved me from a lifetime of wasted contemplation."
"Did Stacy put you up to this?! What did she offer you? Did she suck your cock?"
"I'm her dad."
"I'll take the job if you promise to forget I said that."
"Glad to have you." | Without a knock, I entered
a little office space.
Although a shock, she met me
with no sign of ill grace.
A hand outstretched, I slapped it
her eyes lit up with joy.
"Such arrogance is what we seek
in those that we employ!" |
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