Never Buy A Stripper A Drink

Another dose cummin’ atcha! If you’re just starting to check it out, but sure to start at the bottom of the page and work your way up through the parts to stay in the right order.
-jw

The familiar silver doors parted in front of John-7 laying the office out before him and as usual nothing was different. Mary-4 was sitting at her desk, head down, pencil moving furiously across some document, K-Tall brand cup filled with orange drink. John-7 walked past her to his desk not looking at all.

“Good morning,” she said. She did not look up, her pencil did not stop.

John-7 continued walking saying nothing in return, not even a nod of greeting. He went straight to his cubicle, placed his briefcase on the desk and waited to start the day. When the announcements sounded and the orange drink was passed out he repeated his plan being extra careful not to spill this time. With the deed done he placed his case at his feet and set to look as busy as he could. He had just brought up the file for his new proposals when his tiny door was darkened by Richard-1. He was smiling and holding a cup of coffee, the K-Tall logo screaming from its side.

“Good Morning John.”

“Good Morning sir.” John-7 turned his chair to face his director while he slowly pushed his briefcase even further under his desk out of sight.

Richard-1 took a large sip of coffee. “So, are we in good shape to have those proposals for me by tomorrow?”
He said “we” as if he had anything to do with the work besides presenting it to the higher ups. John-7 had forgotten that it was already Thursday and that his ideas were coming due, but he was not worried. They’d been completed since Tuesday, the rest of the week he had spent spinning his wheels looking busy.

“I’m just putting the finishing touches on them now sir. They’ll be ready for tomorrow.”

“Good work John. Keep it coming.” Richard-1 winked at John-7 when he said this and made a thrusting motion with his fist as if to imitate a train piston. Richard-1 then turned on his heels and headed toward another cubicle to deliver more lack luster motivation.

Once he was gone John-7 turned back to his monitor and stared blankly at it for several minutes before his eyelids grew heavy and he started nodding off. Just as he was getting comfortable he felt someone behind him and he quickly straightened up.

“Are you alright John?” Adam-10 was standing in the opening to his cubicle holding two cups. He didn’t even have to ask what they were, he could smell. His whole cubicle filled with a warm, sour stench. “I brought you a cup of coffee it looks like you need it.”

John-7 fought hard to repress the gag reflex. The coffee did not smell anything like he remembered it smelling like in the past. Adam-10 set the orange K-Tall mug on John’s desk.

“Uh . . . thanks I’ll be alright I just had a late night that’s all.” John-7 brought the mug to his lips to take a small sip to be polite, but was overcome by nausea so he instead feigned blowing to cool it off.

“You have your proposals ready for tomorrow? Richard-1’s putting the heat on everyone today.” Adam-10 was now leaning casually on John-7’s desk sipping his coffee.

He opened his mouth to answer and was overcome by the sick feeling. It was all returning to his nostrils now: the coffee, the portable toilet, the sewage plant. He stood up, pushed his way past Adam-10 and rushed to the men’s room. To get there he had to pass Mary-4’s desk. She did not even glance up as he darted past. Once there, he kicked open a stall, dropped to his knees, and vomited clutching the porcelain toilet. When he had finished he sat on the cold tile floor catching his breath. The substance that had come out of him was thick and black. It resembled nothing that he had eaten recently, or ever for that matter. John-7 flushed, got to his feet and went to the sink.

The men’s room was empty save for him, and he was glad. He splashed cold water on his face which he noticed was extremely pale. He had never had much color, but he realized that now he looked quite pasty, ill looking. He took several deep breaths before returning to the office. He passed Mary-4 once again receiving no reaction. He was glad that his cubicle was empty when he returned. He would explain his actions to Adam-10 some other time, but now he wanted to leave. Although the sick feeling had passed he was now hit with an overwhelming feeling to get away from the office. He wasn’t worried about his proposals; they had been done for days. As for taking the rest of the day off; he’d have to talk to Richard-1 about that.

John-7 packed his things into his briefcase and approached Richard-1’s door. He glanced over at Mary-4 before he knocked. She took a large sip of her orange drink, but did not avert her eyes from the work at her desk. John-7 knocked without asking.

“Come in.” Richard-1’s voice was muffled by the door. John-7 entered the office.

“Sir,” he started, “I’m really sorry but I’m just not feeling well today. I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave.”
Richard-1 was leaning against the front of his desk looking at a file folder which he now closed and dropped on his desk. He approached John-7.

“Good god son, you’re as white as a sheet. Did you see a ghost or something?” Richard-1 was now close enough to John-7 that he placed the back of his hand against his forehead. “You’re clammy as hell too. What did you get yourself into?”

“I don’t know sir. I think it may be something I ate; either that or its one of those twenty-four hour things that goes around from time to time. Whatever the case is, I’d rather just go home and try to rest up.”

“I’d love to let you son, but you know we have those . . .”
John-7 cut Richard-1 off. “Our proposals are due tomorrow sir, I know.”

With that John-7 set his briefcase upright on the chair to his right, opening it just enough to retrieve a folder from inside before shutting it up tight again. “Here are my ideas I finished them up early for you.”
Richard-1 took the folder from John-7 and flipped through its contents before closing it, and placing his hand on John-7’s shoulder.

“Good work son take the rest of the day off and get some rest, but I expect you back here bright and early tomorrow now.”

“Thank you sir.” He turned to leave, but was called back.

“Hold on a second, son.”

John-7 turned back to see Richard-1 holding a silver carafe that always sat at the corner of his desk. He picked up a tall, plastic K-Tall cup that was next to it very similar to the one Mary-4 drank from. Richard-1 poured into the cup from the carafe.

“Here, take this for the road. It’ll make you feel better.”
Richard-1 handed the cup to John-7 filled to the brim with K-Tall brand orange drink.

“Thank you sir.” John-7 tried hard to cover his disgust.

Richard-1 gave him one more solid pat on the shoulder and he was off. He held the cup the entire way down the elevator and through the lobby never drinking from it. Once he was out side he poured the orange drink onto one of the shrubberies that grew outside the entrance to the K-Tall Corporation. Halfway to his car he dropped the plastic cup and it rolled off into the parking lot. Once in his car John-7 caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. He was still much paler than usual, but at least his stomach had settled and he was going home.

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Sorry for the once again very long delay between posts. If anyone is interested in still reading, here is another installment . . .
-jw

The familiar silver doors parted in front of John-7 laying the office out before him, but something was different. Mary-4 was not at her desk, and he slowly walked past looking around to see if she was anywhere nearby. When John-7 looked in the direction of his cubicle he saw Mary-4 and Richard-1 both at the small opening of his work space.
John-7 swallowed hard, his mind raced. They must have found out about his orange drink scam. He was caught and now he was going to have to face the consequences. John-7 approached his desk.
“Good morning sir, Mary.”
The two stood blocking the entrance to his cubicle so he could not see behind them. Richard-1 looked at him sternly; Mary-4 looked at the floor.
“You shouldn’t have done that John. After all this company has done for you, after all that I’ve done for you.”
Mary-4 was silent.
John-7 looked back and forth between the two of them.
“Sir, I don’t think I understand what you’re . . .”
Richard-1’s voice rose. “You don’t understand? Well maybe this will clear it up for you.”
With that the two parted revealing the cubicle to John-7. There on the floor by his chair was the open trash bag he had filled the night before with the K-Tall brand coffee, and arranged on every bit of available space on his desk were small cups brimming with orange drink. Flies covered the walls and floor of the small cubicle crawling in and out of the cups, perched on their rims, and swarming the trash bag. Tiny white maggots were already squirming their way to freedom from the open bags of coffee. The intensity of the buzzing was almost deafening.
John-7 stepped back and dropped his briefcase. He looked at Mary-4 and saw that flies were crawling up and down her arms and around her hair as she stood unflinchingly staring at him. Richard-1’s lips parted in a giggling smile allowing flies to enter and exit his mouth. They were crawling out from behind the lapels of his suit, and the collar of his shirt occupying the fleshy underside of Richard-1’s neck.
John-7 realized that he could no longer draw in a breath. He heaved against tremendous pressure to try and breath but it was no use. He turned away from the cubicle and stared into total blackness. A blackness that pulsated and buzzed as the flies covered everything. He could see the tiny hair of the flies legs and bodies mingling together with each other, dripping filth.
John-7 was instantly transported back in time inside of his own mind. Once, when he was very young, six or seven, his father, who worked for the city, took him on a tour of the sewage treatment plant. In his youthful curiosity John-7 had asked where things went when he flushed them down the toilet and his dad decided to show him. Cashing in a favor owed to him by the director of the plant he was able to get them both in for an unofficial tour with no problem. John-7 remembered the pungency of the smell intensifying with each door they went through until it could get no stronger and they were in the center of the plant where all the human waste was processed.
John-7 had only smelled something similar one time in his short life, but it was nowhere near this bad. It was the previous summer when his parents took him to the fair that came through town each year. The temperature had reached record highs that summer, and that day was no exception with the thermometer topping out at 102 degrees. John-7 had been drinking cherry soda all day, a treat he indulged in every year at the fair, and by mid afternoon he had to go to the bathroom bad. His mother walked him over to where the portable toilets were set up and told him to go ahead while she waited outside.
He approached the light green box with caution, opened the door slowly, entered, and let it bang shut behind him. The first thing he became aware of was that he was in total darkness save for a small bit of light that streamed through tiny ventilation slats towards the ceiling. Then, the smell hit him. The sun had been high and hot in the sky for nearly the whole day turning the portable toilet into a kiln for baking all the shit and piss that had been deposited in it. As John-7’s eyes adjusted to the lack of light he was able to see the state of disarray the place was in. The entire area surrounding the opening of the toilet was wet with urine, as well as the floor in front of it. A piece of soiled toilet paper was next to John-7’s foot and he stepped to the side so it would not touch his sneaker. He approached the opening and peered down into it. Less then ten inches from the top were lumpy mounds of shit floating in a filthy blue liquid that was supposed to act as a sanitizing agent.
John-7 turned and pushed the heavy, spring bound door open squinting against the light as he ran over to his mother. He lied saying that he had gone because he did not want her to know he was made sick by the smell, a smell that was now in his clothes and robbed him of his appetite for the rest of the day. Not even the tempting greasy fair food could entice his appetite back.
John-7 clung desperately to his father’s hand as they walked out over the processing tanks. The walkway they were on was no more then three feet wide with a short railing protecting them on either side. John-7 was afraid to approach the side and look.
“Go ahead,” his father coaxed, “take a look at where things go when you flush them down the toilet.”
John-7 cautiously approached the rail, took hold of it, and looked over. Beneath him was a massive, flowing river of human shit that bubbled and pulsated as if it were a living entity. John-7 stared almost hypnotized by this spectacle, the shit itself involved in some alluring dance that beckoned him. The scent had now permeated every part of him, but he was unable to think about that, or that the portable toilet’s scent paled in comparison to it. His mind was disconnecting, giving in to the dancing swirl of the sewage, and that was what this was like.
John-7 stood there captivated by the living wall of flies that danced and swirled like the sea of human waste he had seen so many years ago. The stench was there too, not the overbearing shit smell but the sourness of the coffee was all around enveloping him in its unpleasant warmth. John-7 fell down on his hands and knees still trying to breathe, and finding that he could not. His arms gave out at his elbows and his head hit the ground with a thud.
John-7 opened his eyes and shot from the oversized recliner in his living room dripping with sweat and breathing erratically. It took him a moment to get his bearings and realize that he was not in the office, but at his own home. He was dreaming. It was something he hadn’t done in longer than he could remember, but dreaming none-the-less. He wasn’t sure weather to be excited that he had a dream, or horrified by its vivid grotesqueness. The clock on the book shelf read 6:35 and it was time for John to start getting ready for work anyway, but the whole morning he thought about his dream and what it could mean. He also began considering that he may be losing his mind with seeing these flies. Dreaming them was one thing; people dream strange things all the time, but the fact that he was actually seeing and hearing them made him worry.

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*-author’s note-
hello again, here the fourth installment in the series from my story ‘Company Loyalty‘. Be sure to catch up with the other parts first if you haven’t already. Thanks!
-jw

Catch up with part 3 here:
“Company Loyalty” - Part 3
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At home that night John-7 examined one of the many bags of K-Tall coffee in his pantry. He opened it, smelled it, poured some beans out in his hand and smelled those too. He dumped a healthy portion of the beans in the grinder and decided he’d make a pot to see if there was indeed something wrong with the batch from the office that day. When the brewing cycle of his K-Tall coffee machine had come to an end he poured a cup, and brought it to his nose to smell. It smelled the way his coffee normally did, but something was a little funny about it, a little off. Figuring he was just imagining it he took a healthy swig of the coffee and let it coat his entire pallet before swallowing. John-7 placed the cup on the counter in front of him and stared at it. There was no denying it now, the coffee had the same sour taste it had at work that day. An odd, unsettling feeling washed over John-7 as he stood there. He was beginning to realize something was not right, and it scared him.

He continued to stare into the black fluid of the cup when he saw a fly break the tension of the liquid and crawl out from the inside. John blinked his eyes hard and saw a second fly rise up out of the coffee. To the side of the cup he saw several other flies perched around the brim of his K-Tall coffee machine. He grabbed his cup, spilling some of it over the sides and onto his hand, and dumped it into the sink taking a step back as he did. He expected a swarm of flies to come at him from the sink, but there were none. He stepped back up to the sink and looked in, but the flies he had seen in his coffee only moments ago were not there. Looking back at his coffee machine he saw no flies there either.

John-7 dumped the rest of the coffee into the sink and turned toward his pantry. He grabbed an empty garbage bag and began filling it with all the bags of K-Tall brand coffee he had. There were nearly twenty of them and his bag was filled to the brim and heavy. He dragged it out to his trash can and slammed the lid down on top of it. One thing was for sure, John-7 would never drink K-Tall brand coffee again.

* * * *
That night John-7 could not sleep, though it was not for lack of trying. He lie in bed tossing, turning, and trying to think of anything else besides the events of that day. A couple of times he thought he heard the faint buzzing of flies coming from his kitchen, but after getting up to check it out twice, he decided his mind was playing tricks in him, or at least that’s what he hoped. After his second inspection he knew that sleep would not be an option for him this night so he sat in his oversized recliner with the current book he was attempting to read. John-7 attempted to read many books, but usually ended up getting only half to three quarters of the way through them before his interest waned. He used to be able to finish books when he was in college. He remembered enjoying reading at some point; at least he thought he remembered, but all that changed when he started working for K-Tall.

He found that many things that used to spark his interest no longer did, in fact he found that just about all of his hobbies had fallen by the wayside and reading was only one of them. He used to sit on the porch weekends and play his classical guitar, but it had been months since he had removed it from its stand in his den. He also used to take walks in the woods for hours almost trying to get lost just so he could find his way out again. Now he spent the bulk of his weekends watching television, and basically doing nothing much in general. His stomach was beginning to grow round with his apathy and he was sure that if he continued on this way he would have to by new pants by the fall. He was always going to start exercising tomorrow; or at least that’s what he told himself continually to ease his mind as he slowly moved further away from physical fitness.

John-7 was almost dozing when he heard the buzzing again. His book fell from his hands disappearing into the side of the recliner as he leaned forward. This time he knew that he distinctly heard it coming from outside. He stood up, listened, and headed toward the back door grabbing the wooden baseball bat he kept in the corner. The sound grew louder as he approached the backdoor. John-7 could see the trash can he had thrown all the coffee in earlier through the windows in his door, and he knew that without a doubt the buzzing was coming from there.

He placed his hand on the door knob, still clutching the bat in his free hand. The buzzing seemed to grow even louder as he turned the knob, but when he threw open the door he was greeted by the still silence of the night. John-7 cautiously stepped outside and turned toward the trash can. He held the bat up over his head in a striking pose as he reached for the lid with his other hand. His heart was racing and his hand clutched the bat so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. John-7 snatched the lid from the can and threw it aside, stepping back not sure what to expect. He peered into the can now holding the bat with both hands and saw nothing but the bag he had placed in there hours ago.

John-7 chuckled as he picked the lid up and placed it back where it belonged. He returned to the living room and settled into his chair once again closing his eyes and beckoning to the sandman until he finally arrived.

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*-author’s note-
Alright, sorry for the delay between posts for anyone whose been keeping up, but I’ve been . . . well . . . I’ve just been lazy about getting the new post up, but no more. Anyway, here is part 3 an I assure you I shall keep this section updated regularly from now on . . . semi-regularly . . . semi . . .
-jw

Catch up with part 2 here:
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“Company Loyalty” - Part 2
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John-7 sat at his desk, his briefcase in front of him; the locks unclasped ready to be opened. The intercom fired up and as he stood to join in the singing of the loyalty song he opened the case. Taking a quick look around, he could see that Richard-1 was across the office not paying any attention. Mary-4 placed a cup on his desk without so much as looking at him, and as soon as she was safely past he took action.

He already had the lid of the thermos unscrewed most of the way so as to save time, and it came off quite easily with a flick of his wrist. He gave one more careful glance around before pouring the contents of his small cup into the thermos with one hand, and then immediately screwing the lid on with the other. John-7 then brought the empty cup to his lips pretending to drink for the sake of anyone who may be watching. As he sat down he closed the lid of the briefcase and placed it at his feet, scooting the empty cup to corner of his desk to be collected. His body was pulsing at the very rebelliousness of his act. His heart raced as Mary-4 took his cup and continued past him as if nothing was wrong and he nearly squealed with excitement.

Unable to sit still he decided he would get a cup of coffee, and as he rose from his chair and exited his cubicle he ran right into an approaching Richard-1. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach and burned in the churning acid. He thought for sure he was caught, he didn’t know how but it didn’t matter. He didn’t figure there was anyway to fool the company and he was right.

“John, I was just coming to see if you’d made any progress on those proposals. Say, what’s that on your sleeve?” Richard-1 gestured down to the cuff on the right hand sleeve of John-7’s shirt. There, screaming up at him from his wrist were several bright orange stains. It must have splashed on him when he was pouring the drink into the thermos.
John-7 opened his mouth to answer, but all that came out was a soft cracking noise.
“Did you have a little accident with your orange drink this morning?”
“I was . . . uh . . . picking it up and . . . I . . .” John was fumbling with his shirt now, tugging at the stained sleeve trying to think of the simplest explanation for this.
“Is Mary filling the cups up to high again? I’ve talked to her about that before you know one day mine was filled to high and when I picked it up, it sloshed all over the front of my pants. Needless to say, I didn’t come out of my office too much that day. You should consider yourself lucky it only got on your sleeve.”
“Well, I guess I certainly am lucky.” John-7’s heart rate was beginning to slow now and his breathing returned to normal. “Anyway, I’m working on a few ideas right now. I could have something rough ready for you at the end of the day if you like.”
“That’s not necessary John, I’m just happy to see your still cranking ‘em out. Just have me a final version by Friday.”
“I will sir. I was just about to get some coffee, would you like some?”
“No thank you I have some things I need to take care of. Keep up the good work.”

Richard-1 slapped John-7 on the back hard as he turned to walk away. John-7 watched him head over to Mary-4’s desk and she looked up at attention as he approached. Richard-1 started saying something to her, gestured over to where John-7 was standing, and then down to his own pants. John-7 guessed he was recounting his spill story to her as well, and he looked away continuing into the break room. It was empty and the fluorescent lights buzzed softly over head. John-7 poured his coffee and headed back to his cubicle. He didn’t look in Mary-4’s direction but he could feel her glaring at him as he passed.

Once he was safely at his desk he examined the stain on his cuff, and saw that it was very bright against the grey color of the shirt. He wasn’t sure if it would come out or not but he also didn’t particularly care. He sipped his coffee as he booted up his computer and noticed something he hadn’t ever noticed before. The coffee had a strange taste to it. Not just different from how it tasted at home, but different then it usually tasted at work. He wandered if it was just the coffee from that day, like it was a bad batch or something. Just then Adam-10 passed John-7’s cubicle carrying a fresh cup of coffee. John-7 talked to Adam-10 on occasion in the break room or on the elevator, and he thought he was a fairly decent guy.

“Hey Adam,” said John-7 leaning back in his chair trying to flag him down as he passed. Adam-10 stopped and turned toward the opening of the cubicle.
“Hello John, how are you this morning? I saw you talking to Richard earlier, is everything all right?”
“Oh yeah, he was just checking on my progress. You know how he is.”
“I know all to well my friend, all to well.” As he spoke he took a sip of his coffee.
“Say Adam, do you notice anything different about the coffee this morning? I mean, does it taste a little off to you?”
Adam-10 sipped, thought for a moment, and sipped again.
“No not really, tastes like the same old stuff to me. Why, does it taste bad to you or something?”
John-7 took another sip, and then shook his head.
“No, your right I guess I was just imagining it. Well, I’ve got to get started here so I’ll talk to you later.”

With that Adam-10 nodded and continued on his way to his cubicle. John-7 took another sip of the coffee and decided once and for all that there was something different about it. It had sort of a sour taste to it. He pushed the cup to the corner of his desk and there it sat until he trashed it on his way out of the office that evening.

To be continued…

Let us know what you think. Leave feedback in our “J-Dub’s Freaky Fiction” thread in our forum or via voicemail @ (206)339-7771

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*-author’s note-
hello again all, in case you’re just joining the ‘Freaky Fiction’ category before you read this part go back and read part one. Otherwise you’ll be all sorts of confused! Anywho, thanks for coming back, and remember I welcome all feedback on these stories good or bad. Drop me a line in the forum and we’ll talk. Enjoy!
-jw

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Read part 1 of “COMPANY LOYALTY” here
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The button marked “7” lit up red and the shiny steel doors parted allowing John-7 to step off the elevator and into his office space. Mary-4 was at her desk as usual with her head down studying some form of work she had started for the day.

“Good morning,” she said mechanically as John-7 passed by. He said nothing figuring that she didn’t pay attention anyway. He noticed the same K-Tall cup on her desk in front of her filled to the top with orange drink. She took a sip as he continued on, her eyes never wavering from the documents in front of her.
John-7 was in a dismal mood this morning. When he had gone home the night before he couldn’t sleep very well, and the little sleep that he did get was black and dreamless. In fact, John-7 couldn’t remember the last time he had dreamt or even what it may have been about. He took his seat and booted up his computer. The familiar K-Tall logo appeared on the screen while he placed his briefcase on the floor at his feet, and attempted to mentally prepare himself for the new day.

Rick-12’s voice sounded over the intercom at exactly nine on the dot and Mary-4 was already pushing her cart down the aisle dispensing the orange drink to the other employees. She placed a cup on John-7’s desk without making eye contact and continued to the next desk. The company loyalty song was beginning to play and Richard-1’s voice was loud and booming as he sung along from the other side of the office. John-7 stood up, but did not even make an effort to pretend he was singing. As the song approached it’s end he picked up his small cup and held it to his lips like the rest of his fellow co-workers, but as they all tilted their heads back in unison to drink he stopped. He had decided right then and there that he was not going to drink this anymore simply on the grounds that he had to. Still holding the cup to his mouth he closed his lips tight and made a quick head motion to make it look as if he drank. John-7 sat down quickly behind the safe cover of his cubicle walls and looked the small space over.

His first instinct was to dump it in the trash can, but he knew that he would be easily found out doing that. He was sure that Mary-4 probably emptied each one herself and would surely turn him in. He could already hear the cart approaching to pick up his empty cup. One of the wheels squeaked as she pushed. John-7 grabbed the briefcase at his feet, opened it, dumped the contents of his cup into it, closed it again and set it back at his feet. He placed the empty cup on the corner of his desk just as Mary-4 appeared to collect it as usual. He typed on his keyboard pretending he didn’t even notice her in the same way she acted when at her own desk.

After she passed he glanced cautiously down at his briefcase. The beginnings of a small orange puddle were already forming around its base. He knew he was going to have to act quickly before the leak got out of hand. While still pretending to type something he decided he would get up, go to the break room for a cup of quality K-Tall coffee, and bring back pockets full of paper towels to clean up. John-7 swiveled his chair to the side and was about to stand when Richard-1 entered the tiny opening of his cubicle. John-7 could feel the blood rush to his face immediately as his heart jumped into his throat. He was unsure if he should remain seated hiding the leak with the position of his legs and chair, or try to stand leading Richard-1 out of the cubicle all together.

“Good morning sir,” said John-7. He stood quickly unable to yield to the adrenaline that had flooded his system. “I was just about to grab a cup of coffee, would you like to join me?”
John-7 was still standing in front of the slowly growing puddle, but was gesturing toward the break room.
“Actually, no thanks John. I’ve already had my coffee for the day, but I’ll walk you there.”
Relief washed over him as Richard-1 turned and exited his cubicle with him close behind.
“I just wanted to tell you,” said Richard-1, “not to be discouraged by those bastards rejecting your proposal yesterday.”
“Oh, no sir you don’t have to worry about me. I understand its all part of the job. You win some, you lose some.”
“That’s the attitude I wish everyone in this department had. I’m sure that what you’re working on now is going to knock them on their asses. Keep up the good work.”

With that Richard-1 headed in the direction of his office, leaving John-7 at the door to the break room. He watched his director walk away, and proceeded to the coffee machine. Minutes later he was back at his desk with a cup of coffee and half a roll of paper towels stuffed into his pants. He checked the aisle to make sure no one was approaching as he conducted his clean up mission. When he was sure the coast was clear, he turned the laid the briefcase down on the floor and opened it. The interior was a complete mess; the contents were soaked through and stained orange.

John-7 first went to work on wiping up the remnants of the puddle, and then set to work lining the case with towels to soak up the remainder and prevent any further leaks. John also placed all the towels he used to clean up with in the case before shutting it up and returning it to its home at his feet.

For the rest of the day he worked as usual, checking the floor around him ever so often for any further evidence of his deed, but there was none. As he became more comfortable he found that he was actually able to get some work done. He started the outlines for three more proposal ideas, and they were all pretty damn good. One was an elongated bastardization of his picnic idea in which you saw, through a series of jump cuts; the mother and newly added father figure grow old while the kids grew up. It was along the same lines as the first idea, but not so abstract so he thought they might buy into it. The second featured a woman going through belongings in the house of her recently deceased mother while a voice over told us so, reiterating the importance of having insurance for the benefit of your loved ones. The third idea featured an older couple traveling across country showing, once again through jump cuts, all the places they had stopped. The magical voice over would once again tell the viewer of how care free you can be when your covered by the K-Tall insurance umbrella.

John-7 hated all of these ideas, but he was sure that his director and the directors of the insurance division would love at least one of them. He thought of ways to look busy for the rest of the day as he went to the break room for another cup of coffee. Just as he neared the doorway he ran into Mary-4 coming out of the room he had been reprimanded for entering. They both stopped and she looked at him momentarily startled; her eyes widening then returning to their normal glaring size. She continued on her way without saying a word. John-7 noticed she was holding her K-Tall cup filled to the brim with orange drink.
John-7 sat at his desk for the remainder of the afternoon drinking coffee and doing half-assed rewrites of his proposals. As the work day dwindled down John-7 was sure of one thing; he was not going to drink that orange drink ever again. Even now he could glimpse Mary-4 at her desk sipping from that cup. Something just wasn’t right about her.

At home that night after a solid hour of cleaning out his briefcase and having to trash nearly its entire contents John-7 devised a way to dispose of his daily orange drink. He dug out an old thermos that he hadn’t used since he was in college that was perfect. It fit just right in his case and he was sure he would be able to get away with it. Not partaking of the daily drink seemed like a small thing, but it was the only time John-7 had ever done anything to go against K-Tall and it made him feel good.

He was so excited about the whole thing that he had trouble falling asleep that night, but when he finally did something out of the ordinary happened. He hadn’t had a single dream in as long as he could remember and this was no exception, but as he slept that night he could see something dancing on the horizon of where dreams live. He saw colors.

To be continued…

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