So after thinking about Austin's post on fax machines, I suggested to him that he should write a novel about a modern day castle/fortress/dungeon that is really an average workplace. After much discussion, which lead me into theatrics in which my brother laughed at me, I'm going to have a go at the story. Somewhere in this story there will be a giant mutated porcupine that can shoot its quills on command and can cut a person in half with one mighty swipe of its claws. Cool, huh? Anyways, here’s the beginning. I had to start somewhere. I tried to emphasize how boring this guy is by playing down the names. Also his acquaintance Marie's full name is "Marie From Cubicle One." That's why it's all capitalized. I hope you guys like it. Let me know what you think. It helps with the writing process. If it just sounds plain stupid then there isn't a point in writing it. By the by, keep in mind that this is my first draft and I only briefly went over for spelling, grammar and tense. Bare with me.
He straightened his tie in the mirror, craning his neck for comfort. At six AM on a Tuesday morning, he could care less about his hair.
“Oh, Honey, you’re not wearing that striped tie with your plaid shirt again are you?” his wife said through a yawn. He heard her flop her head back down on the pillow.
“Pumpkin, no one really cares about what I wear when I sit in an office and write reports on unwanted animals all day. Besides, no one can see me in my cubicle anyway.”
“But it’s a purple tie and your shirt is brown and yellow.”
“You didn’t marry me for my great fashion sense,” he said as he kissed her goodbye. “It’s six fifteen and it sounds like Blue Girl needs to be taken out for a walk before the kids get up. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Alright, alright. The sun isn’t even up yet,” she complained. He managed to crack a smile in his early morning grogginess.
“I love you sweetheart.”
“I love you too Honey. Have a good day and don’t forget to kiss the kids goodbye,” she said as she pushed back the covers.
“I never do,” he told her, setting off down the hallway. Blue Girl trailed at his feet wagging her tail. “Not now Girl, Daddy has to go off to work so you can your nice fake bones and squeaky toys.”
The thirty-minute car ride to the office was monotonous as usual. The traffic was light, but fog kept the cars creeping along at twenty miles and hour. He hated winter. Christmas needed to hurry up and present itself at his front door with the newspaper. A break from his three gray walls and a hefty Christmas bonus was what he needed to lighten his spirit.
Rolling into his parking spot, the car breaks let out a loud moan of discomfort. He tried to let up on the pedal to ease up the noise, but it only made him jerk to a stop and announce to the world that he was attempting a quiet entrance without paying the two hundred bucks for new break pads. Grumbling to himself about getting the breaks fixed, he grabbed his briefcase and got out of the car. The window rattled when he slammed the door shut. He glared at the small car and went gloomily toward the front door.
Climbing the stairs five flights he finally made it to his floor. He stretched the neckline of his shirt and pushed open the heavy metal door.
“Good morning Bob,” said Marie From Cubicle One. “Susan wants you to start taking the stairs again?”
“Morning Marie. She said that she’s going to stop buying me new pants every time I gain an inch or two at the waist.” He gave her a grim look while patting his belly. He continued down the rows of cubicles. He took a right at the fifth box back and then a left at the third, finally getting to his desk at cubicle six row nine.
“Morning Jim,” he said.
“Morning Bob,” said his neighbor. “I heard you in the parking lot while I was getting my coffee. Still haven’t gotten those breaks replace I hear.”
“Well, it’s the holiday season. I have to think of the kids,” he replied in a dull tone. After working for Insect Corp. for fifteen years, he found himself unable to brag about his amazing career benefits, or lack there of. Jim passed him a page from his newspaper over the short wall.
“Read the one with the Viking and the fax machine. That’ll cheer you up. What a Putz” he said with a chuckle.
Bob took the newspaper and looked at the black and white boxes of funnies.