JacobF
08-08-2008, 10:16 PM
So, I'm probably younger and not as educated as most people on this board (I'm 16) but here's a story I wrote which I kind of like. It's a bit long, I know, and I'm sure there are some rough areas. But any comments/criticism is highly appreciated. Thanks.
Monday Morning.
Herbert Thicket opened the door to his office and strode towards his desk with a near limp. His hair as frazzled as his mind, he made a crevice between the mountain of loose papers on his desk and smacked his briefcase right in
the middle. He sat down and groggily sipped at his coffee, pondering whether he should take a moment or open his briefcase and get right to work.
Herbert chose the former, but a moment turned into fifteen minutes. I guess I don't have much to do today anyway, he thought to himself. The morning's sunrise scorched the shell of his suit creating an unpleasant heat, and he created a fortress against the bright light with his hands. Herbert's eyes settled atop his crossed arms, focusing on the tan lined finger on his left hand. His eyes rested there for a while, but not really a calming rest. More like a desperation. A pondering of where his life went wrong; where all his hopes and dreams turned to just tepid water winding down a dirty kitchen sink.
A garbled, barely noticeable female voice seeped through the grate of the intercom near Herbert's desk. But in Herbert's state, it was more of an eruption.
"They're here to see you now"
Herbert lowered his brow.
"I'm sorry, who?"
"Head Office. They want you to give them the collected data of regional monthly sales."
Herbert's rough voice came to a high pitched sort of squeal.
"No, no, that's on Wednesday."
"They're standing right in front of me," the garbled voice whispered. "They want to see you... today."
A cyclone of nervousness enveloped the confused Herbert, and the drum in his head climbed to a crescendo. He had barely started working on the project. He trembled for a quick answer.
"Tell them to wait a few moments" he stated, hastily.
He could have sworn that the work was due in two days. But he would need an entire search party to find the date in his ramshackle planner, and he knew from experience that he couldn't trust his memory. He twiddled his thumbs as his eyes darted round the room, trying to escape from an inevitable problem. As Herbert knew from other instances, Head Office would not let him off easily. The words, the bickering, the spite from past feuds were still anchored in the sea of his mind. Suddenly, beneath the colourful medley of troubling forms, a Hallmark card caught Herbert's eye. Filled with nostalgia, he rescued it between his fingers and opened it up.
"Best wishes Herbert, may your Mother rest in peace. She was such a kind woman, so full of grace and humbleness. Be well, dear.
-Aunt Rose"
A devious thought arose with this innocent sentiment. Herbert debated whether he should use the death of his Mother as an excuse for his accused procrastination, but the inner crusade he had with himself didn't last long. He decided that although he was a person rife with problems, he would never sink to that level of sleaze.
The memories of Herbert’s Mother innervated his troubled spirit. He remembered going to his Mother’s country home every summer, and feeling the stickiness of her lemon meringue pie and sweet ice tea on his lips. He remembered lying under his favourite tree, and the beautiful sunlight glinting through the branches while the rural breeze lulled him to sleep.
An abrupt knock on the door and an authoritative voice tuned Herbert out of his nostalgic daze. He was now more nervous than he's ever been. He quickly unlatched his briefcase, and a revolting stench along with broken glass had invaded the contents of it. Rum. In dismay, Herbert tried to conceal the crime in his briefcase by hiding it under his desk, but the stench still prevailed. The knock on the door turned into a slam, and the bullets of sweat ran down his face like blood from a butchered pig.
"Herbert, we know you're in there, just let us in," the voice said, teasingly.
Exasperated, Herbert walked towards the door and let the two brothers in, greeting them with a slight nod.
"Robert... James..."
The two worst enemies of Herbert's from Head Office, Robert and James, would show no mercy towards him.
"So, what have you got for us today?" asked Robert, the older brother.
"Well..." Herbert struggled for an answer.
"And what's that smell?"
"I bet I know what it is," replied James, the younger brother.
"Still on the rum, eh Herbert?"
Herbert went crimson, drawing a flat line in his brain. He looked away from the chuckling men and began to mumble something, scattering through loose papers. The men fell silent.
"I... think you... I forgot..."
As Herbert stumbled upon each phrase, the men looked at each other with bright smiles. Sweat slithered up Herbert's gelled hair and settled on the tips, like nectar attracting the swarm. Robert interrupted Herbert's embarrassing exhibition of speech.
"Ok, Herbert, you forgot about the project. We all forget things..." His patronizing tone made Herbert snap.
"You know that it's due on Wednesday! Don't stand here and lie!" he shouted.
"But the president of the company isn't going to believe you, is he?"
Relics of old feuds personified. Now, Herbert was like a glass cannon with a lot of gunpowder but no ammunition. He was screaming now.
"The president? Oh, you mean, your father. You little brats get anything you want, while hard-working people like me are constantly on the guillotine trying to make ends meet."
"You know, we need that data; without it we can't do our big presentation downtown." Robert replied, ignoring Herbert's rant.
"Well, that's too bad..." Herbert tried to mock Robert's tone. "I guess you can't do it then, because I don't have it. And you know full well that my work is due on Wednesday... you boys are probably just trying to get away with not doing any work."
"Why would we do that?" replied Robert.
"Yeah, why?" James added, impishly.
"We, unlike you, always finish what we start. We don't need to skimp out on work."
An awkward pause situated within the room.
"Just... leave," Herbert said with an eviscerated spirit. The men proceeded to walk out the door, chuckling in victory. Just as they made a triumphant exit, Herbert searched for some relief in the drawers of his desk...
Robert and James walked off the elevator and down the narrow hall leading to the president of the company's -- their Father's -- office. James rested his hand on the wall as Robert knocked on the door which seemed to be as large as a portcullis. The door opened automatically.
"Boys, boys!" their father said as he sat up from his throne-like desk chair and welcomed them with open arms. "How are things going? You got that big presentation coming up you know!" he said in a jovial tone. Robert walked towards his Father as James trailed behind him.
"Hello, Father. Yes, about that." Robert got right to the point. "One of the employees in market research refused to give us the data. So, we can't do the presentation."
"Oh, really? He refused?" Their Father was not pleased. "Well, who is this person's name? He will be taken care of, boys."
"His name is Herbert Thicket."
"He's a drunk, too," added James.
Their Father hunched over the telephone and made a few calls, and while he did, Robert and James wore bright smiles.
"All right, boys, it's been taken care of. You don't have to do the presentation on Wednesday. We will be promoting another staff member to Herbert’s position and they will overtake the project."
Robert and James were exuberant. "Thanks, Father!"
They both left their Father's office, smiling and chuckling at their ruler's naivety.
"I can't believe he fell for it."
"I know. The people in this office are idiots."
"Well, better for us; we don't have to do any work. The plan worked all along."
The boys laughed as the golden doors of the elevator opened and they planned where they were going to go on their new found free time.
"What do you think is going to happen to Herbert?" James asked.
"Off with his head!" exclaimed Robert, and they both sneered as they got off the elevator and headed towards the main exit. The bright light gilded the beautiful glass doors and a black hummer, bellowing dun smoke, was waiting outside, just for them.
Meanwhile, Herbert was packing up his things and peering at the pink slip on his desk as if it was staring back at him. His red tie slowly unfurled from his clenched, dead hands, and he began to pack up his things in a zombified daze. He strafed out the door of his office with a box containing his things, and as he left the building he expressed a cordial goodbye to the coffee machine. He began his march down the street and towards the subway station, wading through the currents of people and traffic and noise that he loathed.
After what seemed a treacherous journey, he finally arrived. Shuffling towards his train, Herbert began to stumble, oblivious to his untied shoes. The inevitable happened, and the box filled with a past life catapulted into a darker bower of the urban jungle. As Herbert laid there, immobilized by sheer apathy, a wretched looking man appeared from the shadows, and the booze on his breath was incomprehensible to the human senses.
“Oh, why... hello there big fellow!” The wretch looked down at Herbert, who was still lying in his own misery. “You look like you could use some cheering up! Hic! How about... I dance for you!”
The wretch began to flail his limbs wildly as if this was some form of entertainment, and he quickly began to scoop up anything that looked of value.
“I can juggle, too! I’ll show you another time!” The wretch wobbled away with most of Herbert’s things, as if he had just conducted a brilliant robbery scheme. Herbert laughed a little, and lay as a ruin on the floor of the subway station. Ignoring the passersby observing him, he craned his neck up at the buzzing advertisement towering above him. It was an ad for his old company.
“Crusader Technologies. Leading the crusade in a fast paced technological world since 1991.”
Herbert laughed a little, and the fluorescent buzz of what was now an old life settled him into a deep slumber at the bottom of the spiral.
Monday Morning.
Herbert Thicket opened the door to his office and strode towards his desk with a near limp. His hair as frazzled as his mind, he made a crevice between the mountain of loose papers on his desk and smacked his briefcase right in
the middle. He sat down and groggily sipped at his coffee, pondering whether he should take a moment or open his briefcase and get right to work.
Herbert chose the former, but a moment turned into fifteen minutes. I guess I don't have much to do today anyway, he thought to himself. The morning's sunrise scorched the shell of his suit creating an unpleasant heat, and he created a fortress against the bright light with his hands. Herbert's eyes settled atop his crossed arms, focusing on the tan lined finger on his left hand. His eyes rested there for a while, but not really a calming rest. More like a desperation. A pondering of where his life went wrong; where all his hopes and dreams turned to just tepid water winding down a dirty kitchen sink.
A garbled, barely noticeable female voice seeped through the grate of the intercom near Herbert's desk. But in Herbert's state, it was more of an eruption.
"They're here to see you now"
Herbert lowered his brow.
"I'm sorry, who?"
"Head Office. They want you to give them the collected data of regional monthly sales."
Herbert's rough voice came to a high pitched sort of squeal.
"No, no, that's on Wednesday."
"They're standing right in front of me," the garbled voice whispered. "They want to see you... today."
A cyclone of nervousness enveloped the confused Herbert, and the drum in his head climbed to a crescendo. He had barely started working on the project. He trembled for a quick answer.
"Tell them to wait a few moments" he stated, hastily.
He could have sworn that the work was due in two days. But he would need an entire search party to find the date in his ramshackle planner, and he knew from experience that he couldn't trust his memory. He twiddled his thumbs as his eyes darted round the room, trying to escape from an inevitable problem. As Herbert knew from other instances, Head Office would not let him off easily. The words, the bickering, the spite from past feuds were still anchored in the sea of his mind. Suddenly, beneath the colourful medley of troubling forms, a Hallmark card caught Herbert's eye. Filled with nostalgia, he rescued it between his fingers and opened it up.
"Best wishes Herbert, may your Mother rest in peace. She was such a kind woman, so full of grace and humbleness. Be well, dear.
-Aunt Rose"
A devious thought arose with this innocent sentiment. Herbert debated whether he should use the death of his Mother as an excuse for his accused procrastination, but the inner crusade he had with himself didn't last long. He decided that although he was a person rife with problems, he would never sink to that level of sleaze.
The memories of Herbert’s Mother innervated his troubled spirit. He remembered going to his Mother’s country home every summer, and feeling the stickiness of her lemon meringue pie and sweet ice tea on his lips. He remembered lying under his favourite tree, and the beautiful sunlight glinting through the branches while the rural breeze lulled him to sleep.
An abrupt knock on the door and an authoritative voice tuned Herbert out of his nostalgic daze. He was now more nervous than he's ever been. He quickly unlatched his briefcase, and a revolting stench along with broken glass had invaded the contents of it. Rum. In dismay, Herbert tried to conceal the crime in his briefcase by hiding it under his desk, but the stench still prevailed. The knock on the door turned into a slam, and the bullets of sweat ran down his face like blood from a butchered pig.
"Herbert, we know you're in there, just let us in," the voice said, teasingly.
Exasperated, Herbert walked towards the door and let the two brothers in, greeting them with a slight nod.
"Robert... James..."
The two worst enemies of Herbert's from Head Office, Robert and James, would show no mercy towards him.
"So, what have you got for us today?" asked Robert, the older brother.
"Well..." Herbert struggled for an answer.
"And what's that smell?"
"I bet I know what it is," replied James, the younger brother.
"Still on the rum, eh Herbert?"
Herbert went crimson, drawing a flat line in his brain. He looked away from the chuckling men and began to mumble something, scattering through loose papers. The men fell silent.
"I... think you... I forgot..."
As Herbert stumbled upon each phrase, the men looked at each other with bright smiles. Sweat slithered up Herbert's gelled hair and settled on the tips, like nectar attracting the swarm. Robert interrupted Herbert's embarrassing exhibition of speech.
"Ok, Herbert, you forgot about the project. We all forget things..." His patronizing tone made Herbert snap.
"You know that it's due on Wednesday! Don't stand here and lie!" he shouted.
"But the president of the company isn't going to believe you, is he?"
Relics of old feuds personified. Now, Herbert was like a glass cannon with a lot of gunpowder but no ammunition. He was screaming now.
"The president? Oh, you mean, your father. You little brats get anything you want, while hard-working people like me are constantly on the guillotine trying to make ends meet."
"You know, we need that data; without it we can't do our big presentation downtown." Robert replied, ignoring Herbert's rant.
"Well, that's too bad..." Herbert tried to mock Robert's tone. "I guess you can't do it then, because I don't have it. And you know full well that my work is due on Wednesday... you boys are probably just trying to get away with not doing any work."
"Why would we do that?" replied Robert.
"Yeah, why?" James added, impishly.
"We, unlike you, always finish what we start. We don't need to skimp out on work."
An awkward pause situated within the room.
"Just... leave," Herbert said with an eviscerated spirit. The men proceeded to walk out the door, chuckling in victory. Just as they made a triumphant exit, Herbert searched for some relief in the drawers of his desk...
Robert and James walked off the elevator and down the narrow hall leading to the president of the company's -- their Father's -- office. James rested his hand on the wall as Robert knocked on the door which seemed to be as large as a portcullis. The door opened automatically.
"Boys, boys!" their father said as he sat up from his throne-like desk chair and welcomed them with open arms. "How are things going? You got that big presentation coming up you know!" he said in a jovial tone. Robert walked towards his Father as James trailed behind him.
"Hello, Father. Yes, about that." Robert got right to the point. "One of the employees in market research refused to give us the data. So, we can't do the presentation."
"Oh, really? He refused?" Their Father was not pleased. "Well, who is this person's name? He will be taken care of, boys."
"His name is Herbert Thicket."
"He's a drunk, too," added James.
Their Father hunched over the telephone and made a few calls, and while he did, Robert and James wore bright smiles.
"All right, boys, it's been taken care of. You don't have to do the presentation on Wednesday. We will be promoting another staff member to Herbert’s position and they will overtake the project."
Robert and James were exuberant. "Thanks, Father!"
They both left their Father's office, smiling and chuckling at their ruler's naivety.
"I can't believe he fell for it."
"I know. The people in this office are idiots."
"Well, better for us; we don't have to do any work. The plan worked all along."
The boys laughed as the golden doors of the elevator opened and they planned where they were going to go on their new found free time.
"What do you think is going to happen to Herbert?" James asked.
"Off with his head!" exclaimed Robert, and they both sneered as they got off the elevator and headed towards the main exit. The bright light gilded the beautiful glass doors and a black hummer, bellowing dun smoke, was waiting outside, just for them.
Meanwhile, Herbert was packing up his things and peering at the pink slip on his desk as if it was staring back at him. His red tie slowly unfurled from his clenched, dead hands, and he began to pack up his things in a zombified daze. He strafed out the door of his office with a box containing his things, and as he left the building he expressed a cordial goodbye to the coffee machine. He began his march down the street and towards the subway station, wading through the currents of people and traffic and noise that he loathed.
After what seemed a treacherous journey, he finally arrived. Shuffling towards his train, Herbert began to stumble, oblivious to his untied shoes. The inevitable happened, and the box filled with a past life catapulted into a darker bower of the urban jungle. As Herbert laid there, immobilized by sheer apathy, a wretched looking man appeared from the shadows, and the booze on his breath was incomprehensible to the human senses.
“Oh, why... hello there big fellow!” The wretch looked down at Herbert, who was still lying in his own misery. “You look like you could use some cheering up! Hic! How about... I dance for you!”
The wretch began to flail his limbs wildly as if this was some form of entertainment, and he quickly began to scoop up anything that looked of value.
“I can juggle, too! I’ll show you another time!” The wretch wobbled away with most of Herbert’s things, as if he had just conducted a brilliant robbery scheme. Herbert laughed a little, and lay as a ruin on the floor of the subway station. Ignoring the passersby observing him, he craned his neck up at the buzzing advertisement towering above him. It was an ad for his old company.
“Crusader Technologies. Leading the crusade in a fast paced technological world since 1991.”
Herbert laughed a little, and the fluorescent buzz of what was now an old life settled him into a deep slumber at the bottom of the spiral.