CHAPTER 1
Post-it notes: proof that there is a god. The little multi-colored pieces of gluey paper were plastered like pinata papier-mache all over my office desk. Each one had little jots and reminders that leaked out of my head. One read, "Bleach the ketchup out" another, "Buy more post-it notes". I gave up thinking and let my body slouch in the soft black leather so neatly wrapped around my chair.
A hum of computer-generated music crept out of the monitor as if to say, "Hey gang! Rise and shine! E-mails are awaiting!" Then the noise stopped.
I lightly opened my eyelids; a cautious view of old horizon.
"In the history of language, the first obscenity was silence."
I had forgotten about that post-it note.
Ring!
The phone? Phone calls... post-it notes... I scoured over the rainbow of consciousness that adorned my cubicle. "Call your mother" This time the post-it note was pink.
Ring!
"Alright, alright. Hello, this is Tom Wheatley. How can I help you?"
"Ah yes, hello, my name is Janice Barber, of the Barber Foundation for Family Values, and I recently received a new printer from your company. It spewed ink all over my Mother's Day present and I demand a reparation!"
"Let me put you on hold, Ma'am."
"Don't you fu-"
Silence.
Mother's Day: proof that god doesn't exist.
CHAPTER 2
The white petals subtly accentuate the off-white walls of my enclosure. I tilted my head slowly like a confused dog, unsure of how to feel about the sight before me. I squinted, I rolled my chair back a bit, I leaned side to side. Nothing changed.
The object of my analysis was a Peace Lily. The florist said it was the perfect plant to put in the office, "it can perk you up on the dreariest of mondays". I was left with a cynical disappointment in its lackluster.
I slouched in my red, velvet chair and glanced around at my pathetic existence.
Ring!
Sigh of tire and relief, another complaint, but something to distract myself with.
Ring!
"Don't get your panties in a bunch. Hello, this is Jane Walter. How can I help you?"
"-cking put me on hold!"
"Hello?"
"Oh, hi, my name is Janice Barber, I recently bought a printer from your company. It doesn't work."
"What specifically isn't working, ma'am?"
"When I turned it on to print a card for my mother it erupted black ink all over the scarf I got her."
Shit. It's Mother's Day.
I whined to myself and frowned like a little girl.
"I'm going to have to put you on hold."
"Don't you dare put me on hold! I'm calling my law-"
Silence.
I think my mother likes peace lilies.
CHAPTER 3
I lifted my wrist up to my eyes and read my digital watch. It consisted of a bright LCD screen that could project the symbols used to represent numbers which I personally avail to count time. Interestingly enough, it was five o' clock.
I looked at the puddle of lukewarm coffee at the bottom of my white ceramic mug. At that temperature it must be overrun with little organisms invisible to the naked eye. I picked it up to bring home.
After locking my filing cabinet I stood up and surveyed my outpost like Caesar would survey the barbaric fields in the outer skirts of his empire. So I imagined it.
My borders looked safe and the Romans could sleep easy. I smirked briefly and pushed the power button on my computer.
Deja vu every day.
A guy briskly scurried by my cubicle and I saw his head swish by: a blur of brown hair. He paused, turned and smiled at me, "By Tom."
"Ya, later Jim."
Jim, Patty, Sandra, Ron, and that one girl all worked on my floor.
I grabbed my briefcase and left. Half awake, half asleep, half alive, half dead.
In the parking lot I slowly strode to my little black Corolla. I remembered when I was at the dealership, I couldn't find a car for the life of me. Then when I came across this one, all I could think was, man, this was so me. The car is me?
I scratched my head and gave up thinking. I dove my hand into my pockets and shuffled around for my keys, pulled them out habitually. As I retrieved the rusty chain it slipped right from my fingers and clanked on the concrete floor.
A whimper of monotonous exhaustion escaped my hanging jaw. I bent over and patted at the damp concrete floor, searching in the dim parking light.
Without any warning a hard, round object slammed into my side and the tip of a shoe jabbed my calf. The coffee mug catapulted from my grasp. Gravity gave it a big warm hug, and so did the pavement.
But that's not all that fell, a reddish brown pot shattered into a million fragments. Its contents, soil and plant-life, splayed onto the road ungracefully like a dead hooker.
"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" A lady's voice shot into my ear. My eyes opened wide thanks to the adrenaline. I forced myself up and stared at her.
"It's not your fault, besides it was only a coffee mug. There's only remnants left of your... Chamomile?"
"Peace Lily" She corrected me and kinda shrugged her lips if that's possible. "It was my last minute Mother's Day gift. Not sure what I'll do now."
"At least you don't have, 'ink spewing all over it!'" I said and chuckled.
She looked at me with a pleasantly surprised face and cracked a smile. "I talked to her too."
"My name's Tom by the way, I don't think we've met, you work on my floor, right?"
"Jane, I work in the cubicle to your left."
"Oh." I said embarrassed.
"Don't worry about it, I keep to myself."
"Well it's nice meeting you but I too have to get something for my beloved mother."
"Good luck." She said and we both turned around and walked our separate ways. Me to my Corolla.
I am hoping to get some preemptive feedback before I introduce their mothers and develop Jane and Tom more. All criticism is appreciated.
