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Light of a New Day

By Damian Forest Light

Light of a New Day

Unknoen Tower Entertainment 2016

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016906949
Createspace Independent Publishing Platform

TO MERLIN, THE STARS, THE SON, AND TO I

CROSSES BARED LAID

TO REST

I awoke in the morning to the fresh sunrise spilling through the curtain on my single window. The sun bled across the wall and the floor corner, onto and near my bed. I got up and looked out the window and looked out on the red sky. The street was filled with shadow, and the rooftops stretched forward into the distance. The day’s sounds were just beginning to circulate through the city streets.

I sat on a mat, on my rug and floor, and attempted to do some yogic breathing exercises; but I found myself distracted and my mind kept wandering to what was going on outside. I kept listening to the sounds of the busses going by in the street, not able to concentrate. People were yelling in the street. I tried to understand what they were saying, but it was in Spanish. I don’t speak very good Spanish, I speak French and Italian; and I took a couple of classes in Gaelic.

A rooster crowed in one of the buildings down the block, but it was normal that it would do so. I would listen to this rooster crow on certain mornings, and breathe for an hour right through it; following my breathing in and out, inhale and exhale. Inhale and also through to the exhale.

Nothing usually got in the way of oxygen entering my lungs, and letting my respiration leak, but this morning was a bit different. My mind kept wavering to thoughts of work, and what would happen there. Would my boss be mad at me? Was I going to mess up? Was I going to be late from trying to master my own Meditation? Was I going to break out into a yoga posture and breathing exercise in the middle of the lunch room, or at my desk? Were my coworkers going through some kind of difficulty and take it out on me? If so, how could I deal with it?

I got up dissatisfied, not able to continue with the yogic breathing. I got into the shower after dropping my robe and soaped up, rinsed and was out in the middle of my bathroom in less than a couple of minutes. I put my clothes on and collected my belongings for the day, keys, wallet, Train Pass, and work key card, which I swung around my neck, like a big electronic necklace, it swung. I realized it was not the electronic nature of my work key card that bothered me, it was the fact that it didn’t have to feel electronic, but that my boss preferred it be perceived in that way.

I took the metal key card necklace off my neck and put it in my jacket pocket that I put on briskly. I walked out of the door and locked it behind me.

I walked down the stairs and then out the front door, down the steps of my stoop, into the city streets. I turned out of my area gate, and down one street to the corner, where I crossed at the crosswalk, and down another block. I turned and went into Jay’s Fruit Market.

I often went into Jay’s in the morning in order to buy a Protein Shake or some Bananas for myself for breakfast. This kind of food kept me going pretty normally and readily until lunch. I always expended a lot of energy at work, and I was always amazed at how a few bananas kept me full and ready to handle many tasks on a day to day basis, until lunchtime. It always seemed like a miracle, that just a couple of bananas could handle my hunger, and settle my mind, and give me the wit to succeed at a day’s work.

My mornings were seemingly energetic and my mind quick to respond to the given tasks. The way my mind would work things out and get a result seemed like an instantaneous response from a computer. The outcome normally zealous and original.

My coworkers would chow down on the donuts and pastries that were given for free by my company. I used to also always indulge in the donuts for breakfast. I would not even bother thinking about it, but the donuts they used were not from the real donut shop, they were from some other candy factory and they used to use experimental sugars and glazes on them made of horse hooves.

I did not agree with the glaze and the cream in the donuts being made from the hooves of horses. The horses were potentially harmed during the making of the pastry supply. The hooves were pulled from the horses while they were awake, and then the horses given horse shoes by way of branding iron, hammer and nails.

I didn’t agree with the method of causing the horses and animals severe pain in order to create a new experimental donut glaze. Donuts were fine just the way they were from Hal-Chuck’s Donuts.

I remember eating Hal-Chucks Donuts when I was just a kid, always getting there on the way to school, when my parents would drop me off at the morning After School Program and stop there on their way to work. We would continually get there in the morning just as the donut makers would pull the donuts out of the fry oven. They were always warm and tingled my stomach with pleasure as I poured hot chocolate down my parched dry mouth.

The winters here were always so cold, and the winter mornings were especially warmed during the icy temperatures with the hot donuts, and the steam from the boiling hot chocolate kept both my throat and face warm.

My dad would smoke cigarettes as he walked with me holding my hand, with a cigarette in the other. We would combat the winter weather of sleet and hail and rain, and he would help me jump over the slushy puddles of the east coast winter mornings.

Snow and sleet would continually pour from the heavens filling the streets; until the sun would come out and warm the weather, melting all the snow into water.

I walked with my dad on most days, and on other days, it was my mom. Either way, we would stop at Hal-Chuck’s Donuts on the way to school, we were running early on most days, and indulged.

Now, I was forced to watch my peers indulge on the pain of extracting parts from horses while they cried and neighed very loudly, in order to make an ‘experimental’ pastry.

The Donuts and pastries came courtesy of ‘Ronnie’s Horses’ - Donuts and Pastries”, which was also experimenting with a new name. After they buy the company, it will be known as “Hal-chucks Donuts and Coffee’, and, ‘the experimental donut for the avid coffee drinker, and the regular sludge for the avid computer geek”; ‘tis the new slogan that the corporate designers are working on. Catchy, huh?

Only this morning was definitely going to be different. I was going to feed these horse hoof eaters something they would never forget. I was going to give them something they would definitely remember. It would be a day filled with ingenuity, smarts, integrity and innovation. The whole office would be moving forward in a positive direction, with everyone feeling the utmost in energy levels throughout the day.

I was going to feed them bananas and kiwis and strawberries. I would have them relating with each other while devouring Cherries and Grapes, along with fresh Cactus Berries. These would be released amongst my coworkers instead of these huge donuts made from horses, unlike the donuts I ate as a kid.

Donuts were not that good for you mind you, but I would not mind if my company did not employ this new chain of pastry delicacies made of horse remnants. I did not believe in the violence towards domesticated animals and other endangered species. Tigers, Horses, Dolphins, all made the world a better place, and since they were not resolved as the subject of some religion, they should remain away from being eaten.

I grabbed a few bunches of bananas, and while piling my basket up with cherries and coconuts, I decided to let my coworkers go for a day or two. I put the fruit back on the shelf. I gave up. I was chicken. I decided to mind my own business as far as telling my peers what breakfast foods to eat.

I put the basket down and walked out with a bunch of bananas and a protein shake. Instead of my coworkers getting the treat of a healthy breakfast, I was going to get double breakfast, and twice as much energy. I bought my meal and walked out.

I stood on the train platform, patiently waiting for a train to work. I was almost pissed off that I had to go in today. Of all days. The sun was out, the birds were chirping, and everyone was wearing green, dark green, or black.

Maybe they were being morbid servants, or maybe they were just crazy. Maybe they were depressed. Maybe they didn’t get laid. Who knows? On a bright sunny day, everyone wore black to work. Depressing. Anyway, the day had promise, but a mouse jumped on the bench across the platform and nibbled on the paper bag that sat on it, before disappearing into it and running around before exiting, and jumping onto the tracks.

There were no honeys on the platform waiting for the train. I got depressed just thinking about the day ahead of me, making calls, signing letters written by my boss asking for money and donations from big wigs. I mean, I committed forgery for a living, signing his name at the end of the letters, and that is how I saw it. Case closed.

My company asked for donations and sent out invitations to a dinner cruise at 3,000 dollars a plate and pretended my boss had signed the letter, towards the bottom to each invite. In actuality, a large room full of people, signed his name for him, and we got paid for it. I made taxable income every day, to make deliveries and sign papers with my boss’ signature on it. I was racing in thoughts of this situation, going over it again and again in my mind. This person was an asshole. No one would ever tell him though, including me, until today.

Well, it wasn’t time for that yet. I folded my newspaper that I found and saved from the rats, and walked up to the train as it pulled into the station. The doors opened, and I walked on and sat down. A loud beep had rang out, and the doors closed. I opened the paper and read it for three stops, and got off with a bunch of other people who were probably walking to the Tower, where we all worked.

I noticed that the crowd of people changed every so often, and new people seemed to work at the Tower. Maybe everyone died their hair. Maybe there was a high turnover rate. Maybe everyone had changed their shifts and departments except for me.

I bought new clothes recently and I could feel the cotton crease against my legs and I could smell the polyester as it mingled with the oxygen around me and the sweat on my back. Today was going to be a warm day.

We filed up the stairs and joined the crowd as it walked itself down the street on the sidewalk. Cars beeped at each other occasionally.

I turned down a side street, with a half hour to go before I had to clock in. I lit a spliff and enjoyed the morning scent against the polyester sweat and cotton mixed with scentless fresh oxygen. The buds were dry and the smell of marijuana caused an old man watering the tree outside his apartment to look up at me. I took a big hit and walked past the lot towards the health food store.

Outside the place there were some workers putting up the stand filled with flowers and fresh sale fruit that was about to go ripe.

I walked up to a tree and smashed the head off the cigarette, crushing the half burnt spliff. I put the cig in a tin that I had and passed it off to Ralph, who was setting up the scales outside the other health food store.

“Thanks.” He said

“No Sweat, Bro.”

Ralph and I grew up together. We smoked joints all through high school. I had watched him get laid on senior prom. There was nothing like dating the Hansen Sisters and that’s what he and I did that night. I got some, but this poor fucker lost his virginity to one of Jefferson High’s biggest sluts. You could not unglue the smile from off his face; although, when he saw her coming out of the men’s room Freshman Year at college with Randy Michaels, who was trailing behind her holding her hand, he near ripped the guy’s head off. Let’s just say that with one kick, the maintenance crew at Face College had to replace one of the water fountains next to the little boy’s room.

I smirked thinking about that water fountain as I pushed open the door to the place with a bell ringing above my head. A ring? Did I even like bells? Little did I know, I might not enter that health food store again after today.

I walked up and down the aisles looking for nothing in particular. I filled up a bag with some plums and ate up out of a bag of candied pineapple.

I picked up some tangerines and some Clementine’s. I grabbed grapes and my favorite can of nuts and walked up to the counter with a half a watermelon and my goodies. The counter girl smiled and rang up my stuff. I walked out of there zoned out of my skull and held a big paper bag in my hand. Lunch.

The walk to work was basically uneventful and that was alright by me. Who needed drama on the way to work? Once in a while there was traffic in the street, or an accident. Every once in a while, some guy walked by selling roses or candy bars, and what the hell? How much money could you make off of candy bars? Somebody said that he stole them and made pure profit selling them for a dollar each. But someone else said he bought them from a distributor and paid 50 cents for ‘em. Did he ever just sit there and eat a whole box, or was it strictly business and he had no taste for sugar or candy?

Maybe the asshole was a diabetic and he probably made more money than the president of my goddamn company. Fuck him.

I stopped at the market outside the Tower, and picked up a gallon of orange juice. The lady there gave me a dirty look because I walked in with a bag from a different store.

I would have gone upstairs since I was ten minutes early and dropped off my bag before going back down, but this way seemed to piss her off ten times more. Ah, the satisfaction of showing her the bag from the health food store. Fucking Cunt. Once in a while, she battled the other stores, and asked people to leave their bags behind. One time she did that and some guy wiped the whole counter of her stuff, leaving merchandise smashed on the floor after it crashed when had he waved his hand. That was funny. Since then, she has only given me a dirty look for another store’s bag.

I went upstairs the usual route, 36 flights up towards the sky about three hundred feet from the ground. Everything had begun to seem and look really little in the window outside the elevator. Like toy cars and little tiny people moving around a model city below.

I walked into the break room and breakfast was laid out. Donuts and Coffee. The donuts were set up in giant pyramids on platters, ready for everyone to consume. Sometimes they bought us bagels and cream cheese or had a caterer bring in hot breakfast, but usually it was just donuts.

They weren’t cake donuts, or the ones with chocolate pebbles on top. There weren’t even any cream donuts today. No horse hooves. I couldn’t bitch. Just pre- Ron’s glazed and Jelly. The pits. I hated donuts because they were deep fried and out of all the food they could feed us, they made us graze on donuts. Again, yadda, yadda, yadda. I went through this already.

I mean all we did all day long was make cold calls, sign papers and sit on our lard asses kissing up to the supervisors and to the boss. Scones would have been better, or pound cakes, or goddamn corn cakes and English muffins. But instead, they followed like a herd to the slaughter into the consummation of donuts. Lunches were better, but breakfast sucked.

I pulled a garbage bag out of the cupboard and dumped the platters into them, before opening the half window in the break room and chucking the goddamn garbage bag out of it. The bag splattered onto the balcony a few floors below the break room. Pigeons gathered and devoured the remains of the splattered and crushed fried flour donuts.

The door to the room opened. A group of employees entered. I was setting up the fruit on the trays.

‘What the hell is this? Fruit?” Asked a male employee.

“Do I look like I’m on a diet?” Asked another.

“No, but you look like you need one.” Was the response.

Laughs.

Everyone gathered food on their plates and sat at the tables in a semi-circle. Someone went over to the window and looked out onto the balcony below.

“Look, someone threw away a whole garbage bag filled with fresh donuts. And look, there’s another one.”

“Where?” Asked one of the other employees.

Everyone got up and looked, and gathered at the windows, looking below for more bags of donuts.

“Why the hell would anyone throw away whole garbage bags full of donuts for the birds below?”

“Maybe because they were old.” was someone’s response.

“Maybe someone doesn’t like donuts.” Said somebody else.

“I threw them away.” I said. Everyone turned and looked at me horrified.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because they suck. And you suck for eating them. Why give in to that crap? It’s such shit that you would stuff those things down your pipe hole every day, all morning long, because they don’t really cost anything to you. But you pack on those pounds.”

“Who are you to tell us what to do? What we eat is none of your business. They’re just breakfast cakes. It’s nice of them to buy those for us.”

“True, it is nice of them to buy breakfast for us, but why stuff us with deep fried fat?”

“Who cares? They’re deep fried? I thought that they baked donuts. You know, that they were baked.

“No. I believe that donuts are deep fried in oil and cook in about 45 seconds. “

“Why did you throw them down, onto the balcony?”

“For the birds. I don’t know. Because you’re a fat fuck and you don’t have the balls to go on a diet.”

“With the insults!”

“I’m calling security.” Said some woman who paraded off picking up a phone on the wall.

“Guys, what the hell has eaten you? What has eaten your soul out? Is it sloth? Is it lack of effort? Is it ignorance and stupidity mixed together? Is it God, your parents, your pedophile step fathers?”

“Ah.” Someone gagged. “Don’t make me puke. That’s gross.”

“What the hell are you going to do in ten years, when a bunch of vegetarians can come at you and beat you up? Or when your own 90 year old grandmother can beat you in a potato sack race? Or when your 85 year old grandfather can beat you up a flight of steps? What the hell is your problem? Why do you back down from your health and happiness, by eating that crap?”

“We’re eating the crap you brought us. I don’t know, its free breakfast.”

“Stop doing what you’re told.”

“Shut up, asshole.”

The group sat there eating their breakfast and I was satisfied. A group of soldiers dressed in red, walked in with big shot guns and stun guns, that had looked like shot guns.

I was brought into the office on the 50th floor to see the boss. It was a long carpeted hallway that laid within a door, which was down a long black tiled hallway. The carpet was red, the doors were white and off white mixed together and I was suddenly feeling like I was trapped in the 70’s. No rock and roll, just a bad heroine and hangover filled 1970’s. With someone’s broken disco tape as my only form of entertainment 70’s. God, this guy was an asshole.

He used to be a broker. Now he received his Master’s degree in Sports Marketing after ten years on Wall Street. An investment he scored big on, allowed him to build his run off of the GWB and government alliances. He bought most of this town and built the rest of it including the Great White Tower and the Great White Tower Corporation. The Tower we worked in was white and it was shit. It wasn’t purity, it wasn’t a nice lady or a good contractor Tower; this was an asshole Tower. It might as well be the fucking politically incorrect Klan Tower itself. I mean not only was it a goddamn eyesore, completely ugly and giant and white; it was owned by this asshole.

I mean how many buildings and businesses can you own? He didn’t own the health food store though. That was key to having your freedom in this city, going to the health food store and eating anything you wanted from its shelves without him getting all the profits. There were other stores sure, that he did not own, but he definitely didn’t own the health food store and that was my joy.

So here we go, I was about to meet this schmuck once more. This wasn’t the Christmas party but maybe he would throw me a bonus or a gift, maybe he would ask me for a healthy recipe, or maybe he would just give me a promotion. I hated his guts. Fuck him. This loser, I should have just kicked his ass, but I punked. I mean he has all these freaking guards standing down and up his ass all day, every day.

“Sit here.” One of the guards had led me to a couch. I sat.

I was surprised I was not in handcuffs. As far as I could tell, a promotion was definitely in order. That’s it. He has got to see the greater purpose and the real sincerity in my motives and actions. Fuck it, I was just being an ass wipe. I wanted to spite this rich fuck and his stupid rendition of breakfast.

I mean at least once a week they had Liquid Breakfast available, but these fat pricks drank it with their donuts. The scumbags that they were. That was my healthy Liquid Breakfast.

Ever since that yoga instructor chick pulled a strip show on the tables at breakfast, after she had drank a Liquid Breakfast, as she had done every Wednesday, these assholes started drinking it. I mean she got up on the tables and danced like no tomorrow shaking her ass in yoga tights, but we didn’t know why. She just did it, and we liked it.

Then one day security came in with their big red fatigues and hauled her away. “Rumor has it, she entered the sex trade in Thailand at the boss’ whim” stated Stan, my cell mate down in Cubicle 32. Who knows what happened to her? “She gave the boss a blow job beneath his desk, and got sent first class on a crate across the Pacific.” Stan stated.

“How did she get to the Pacific?” I asked.

“It’s called the INWO. You know, the fucking train man, the goddamn freight train. She was locked in a car with a bunch of dirty dykes on her way to Japan, to become a mail order bride for some Japanese aristocrat.” God, what would Stan say to me now? He had to be laughing his ass off at me. Get me the fuck out of here.

The boss was going to talk to me first, though. I mean what did this asshole have to say that was so important? I did not even get a Clementine for the road. I could not even eat a piece of pineapple! Oh, I had found the bag of dried apricot in my pocket and pulled the plastic bag apart to munch on this.

The guards walked around, some staring at me as they passed by. When would I get to see the bastard? Was he a faggot? I mean did he take it in the ass at all? Those guards had to have big dicks. I bet one of ‘em got him drunk one night and served him up good. I bet this asshole ate all of the steak in town! He had to order every piece of Sirloin and Angus our McDuffy’s burgers could serve, but I know he ate at the Outback steakhouse. He reminded me of some Aussi prick with a stick up his ass, ordering all the American Steak he could eat. I should eat kangaroo tonight just to piss off his stuffy ass and send it to kingdom come. God, I hated this individual. I wondered if when he died, the whole town would just shut down, electricity and all?

I mean, he seemed the type to put it in his will, that the electric company he owned would not operate without his daily permission and he would sit there in his faggot coffin, getting some kind of faggot parade in his dead honor, with the deed to the electric company in his soon to be buried dead hands, the windmills standing still. Everyone was now installing sunlight panels into their goddamn roofs because there wasn’t enough fucking electricity to go around anymore. Like the sea had shut down or something. That is how they make electricity isn’t it? With the sea water spinning in a wheel at the bottom of the ocean? No?

The guards came to the door and looked out a window. What? Like what? Get real, and if not, get a clue. Like, give me a break.

A secretary came out of the door. She was hot with brown hair and a short skirt. Damn. Did he get her to stuff a dildo up her trap or what? I would just hire a hooker that looked just like her and do what I want, but I did not need to suggest something like that, I mean this bastard was that rich, he could just hire somebody out or get some hot ass secretary to lick his puny rich cock.

When he came, he probably came in out dollars and cents, no better yet, he probably ejaculated spread sheets and stock projections, having visions of lottery numbers and dreams of potential investments; as a bunch of liquid shot out of his flaccid member onto his secretary’s work blouse. I wonder did this guy require his secretaries to wear like an x ray vest during private meetings, or did she have to use a reserve blouse and suit she kept in a closet somewhere in this living hell? Did she have a large cleaning bill and did the company pick up the tab or did she just do it in her bra? Do what?

Did she bone the guards too, or did he get greedy and keep her for himself? I should ask her. How did she like it? She shot me a dirty glance like the cunt in the market but hey, fuck her. Does he kick her ass every now and then just to show her whose boss? Maybe she liked it rough.

There was a buzz. She was sitting by now, and I didn’t even fantasize on her knees and shit. She looked at me. “Mr. DeSeate will see you now, sir.” The door opened on its own. I got up and walked across the carpeted lobby in through the door.

The boss sat there in a big leather Chair like some chairman. Some compatriot of some financial cause. He looked like Bill Clinton on a heaping pile of cocaine. His eyes brown and blue at the same time. Like he jacked off on his mother, callous filled with self-hatred and loathing. Like he jacked off on a frog or a giant snail riding the back of huge rat. What kind of individual smoked crack like this individual?

What the fuck’s his problem? His suit must be a thousand dollars, all stuffy and aristocratic, a can of hairspray in his white hair. He beamed at me with a grimace, made a face and played with a letter opener. Like this asshole drank anything but whiskey for breakfast. Drunk bastard. I was tempted to ask him if he ever saw his mother in a porno but I bit my tongue and barely made it.

I wanted to fuck him up. But like a big pussy, I let him alone. I let him breathe and I let him live, but I shouldn’t have.

“Would you like to explain to me the purpose of your behavior?” He asked.

“The purpose of my behavior? I’m not sure I understand what it is that you mean.”

“For one, the donuts on the balcony below, I mean what if there were people there? Would you like an anvil dropping on your head?”

“No I wouldn’t sir.”

“For two, what are these?” He placed a clementine on the desk in front of us. That did it.

“Clementine’s.” I said.

“Clementine’s? They are sweet, oh. Are these like tangerines? They taste like it.”

“They are.”

“But they aren’t tangerines are they? They are just a bit different, eh?”

“Yes, Sir but,”

He kept going. “They fit in with tangerines and even oranges, but they are not the same. They are like a different fit. Kind of like you. ‘We’ the corporate brand here, are like oranges to society. The workers here, whom we pay and employ, are like a case of tangerines. And together, we provide a service, fresh juice, a pleasant taste or smell, some energy. But then, you, like your precious eh, what is it? A Clementine; attempt to fit in with the tangerines, hoping to pass off as an orange, but then you are not a tangerine. So now, you come to work every day hoping to pass off as a tangerine, but you consider yourself different and special, like this Clementine.

“You sit there with the other tangerines hoping you can one day grow into an orange, but yet you are just a dwarf, a misfit, something smaller than the rest. Something ‘special’. Something we’d like to eat but when you do, it’s just so small, you know you will need another and another and another, until you get enough to eat. So what’s the difference? Do you get where I am going with this?”

“Sir?”

“What I’m saying is, you don’t fit in. Clear your desk. And don’t come back here looking for a job. We don’t need revolutionaries here. We don’t need people usurping authority. We don’t need people throwing donuts out the window for the birds, because the donuts cost money and the birds don’t. We just need them to eat worms and bugs so we don’t get infiltrated. Like in that movie ‘The Worms’. Ever see it? Of course not.”

I just sat there and stared at him wide eyed. Rage did not enter my mind. What was I going to do for money? How would I live? I have to get a new job? I should have just kicked his ass. I then dazed off into a vision of me kicking the hell out of the boss with a chair leg from the crappy chair I sat in. He had a nice chair. My chair was shit, like him. He was shit, and I now sat in shit. He kept talking.

“We don’t have time for nonsense and movements that rile people up into anything but what we tell them to. We make decisions for you and we tell you what to do. We own and control everything, and you have the authority to do one thing, follow our orders.”

“Who are we?” I asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Who is this we you are speaking of?

He laughed vindictively and I swore I saw smoke stream out his nostrils and devil horns form slowly on his forehead. “We are who we tell you we are. And when and why and because we said.”

Blow me. “So am I not employed here anymore?”

“That’s right. You’re a free man.”

I got up and walked out. I asked the secretary for her number on the way out. She gave it to me.

The guards lined the hallway standing completely still. I walked back onto the black tiled floor and business was as usual. I hit the end of the corridor and the elevator went ding.

I walked up to my desk, in my cubicle with a box in my hands that I had grabbed from the copy room. Stan was sitting at his desk. He looked over at me and noticed the box in my hands. “Going somewhere?’ he smirked. I just looked at him. “No!” He says, exaggerated. “They gave you the boot?”

“Yep.” I said. “I’m off to find greener pastures.”

“Well, that was some stunt you supposedly pulled. What’s with the wheat germ?”

“I just felt like something different, you know, something new.”

“Something new? You got to be kidding me. Buy a shirt, get a poster, and go to a club. Something new. That is a ridiculous understatement. What if someone had been out there cleaning the balcony?”

“I guess they would have a whole hell of a lot bigger breakfast on their plates. I don’t know.”

He grimaced. “Sure am going to miss you around here.”

“Thanks.” I said.

“Who am I going to talk to and play practical jokes with, on, with?”

“I’m sure you’ll find somebody.” I gathered my stuff together pretty quickly. “Try Rita in accounting, she’s always up for a good laugh.”

“Are you kidding? She’s like 70 years old!”

“Yeah, but she’s fun to be around.” I picked up an apple off my desk, the last remaining item and took a big bite out of it. There were security guards in big red jumpsuits all around my cubicle now.

“Boy, you sure pissed somebody off, did you? I mean what’s with the brigade.”

“I’m leaving. See you.” I said to Stan. “Goodbye, everybody.” I announced to the room. Stan stood up and was blocked by one of the guards. “Let go of me.” He said.

“Sir, sit down” said the guard.

There was a slight altercation. I stopped and looked back ready to slug the guard if he tried anything on Stan. One of the other boys in red had grabbed my arm holding the box. I snugged it away.

“You alright pal?” Asked Stan.

“Yeah.” I responded.

“Well, be good. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“I won’t.” The guard let down his hand as he tried to grab my arm again and I shrugged it away.

“Don’t hurt him” Stan said to the guard.

“Just sit down and shut up.” The guard responded.

“Alright, alright.” Stan said. “I won’t get your titties in an uproar. Calm down.”

“That’s the way to stick up for yourself!” I shouted back at Stan. “Be good. And I’ll tell the boss’ secretary you said hello.”

The guard blocking the cubicle looked sternly down at Stan. Everyone noticed. The rest of the guards escorted me out of my office, with everyone stopping to stare for a minute, until the half of the office I was walking on was completely preoccupied with our presence. Some of the guys from the lunch room ate on their tangerines and such. I even noticed a little plate filled with fruit on people’s desks. Next they would be buying plants for their desks and the office, but that was probably a long while away. Who knows what kind of revolution would be happening between now and then?

I was escorted down to the main lobby, the seven of us preoccupying an elevator so that no one could get on. There was room for more, but this was a security situation, and their Taser guns were as long as their arms and standing up above their shoulders. We walked down through the lobby and I exited through the revolving doors.

The sky was almost cloudless, the sun almost bright and the streets almost busy. Birds still chirped in the late morning air. What kind of day would this turn out to be?

After about two days of pondering what kind of job I should get, I put together a new resume, copied it at the local copy shop and delivered it to a bunch of places. I dropped it at a bar, a restaurant, a copy center, an office unlike the one I worked at, a major computer software company and of course, an internet search engine corporation. I figured out a new plan. I put together a comprehensive health analysis of myself.

Meanwhile, I packed my car with fresh and vacuum sealed foods, a bunch of camping gear and a small radio, a couple of newspapers and some books, my computer, and went forth to my parent’s vacation spot deep in the outer wilderness of ‘Erotica’. ‘Erotica’ was my home town, now grown into a huge industrial city complex. I drove out of the city, and over the bridge and across the lakes into a country freeway, where I sat in my car for three and a half hours to the cabin.

I unloaded the stuff from the car, and set out for a month or two of long term cabin camping. I paid the rent in advance and still had enough in my savings to last when I got back for a while. This was going to be fun.

Eight weeks of relaxation, fitness and getting my life together. No orders, no phone calls and no forgery. I was felony free and my conscience will be at ease. Aaaaahhhh. Can’t wait.

I looked at the stars, worked out in the morning, read my paper, my books, did Pilates, and ran through the wilderness like a lunatic. I collected wood, rocks and shot bow and arrows that my dad had left there with some big targets. I hunted, had drank cocoa and coffee, and made my food on a camping stove. I also used a wood burning grill to cook what I wanted. I ate chicken, beef, burgers, steaks and styled out like a vegetarian would, with lots of greens and healthy choices. I lifted bricks for exercise and did stretches. I felt great.

I chopped wood and once in a while went to town nearby.

At about four weeks through my camping, something strange had happened. I drove out of my near desolate wilderness, down the same country road I always did twice a week, to pick up newspapers, propane, food and supplies. Every time I went that road, I would see people once in a while, as well as trucks and cars, but it was a country road, and not completely populated.

The more times than not, I could make contact with a few folks, wave hello and maybe have a conversation or two with some of the locals. But this one morning in particular, the road was empty, which would happen also on a back country road.

When I got to the store, the lights were on, the door was open, but nobody was inside. I did my shopping, but when it came time to pay, there was no one. I waited and waited, filled my tank up with gas, and still no one showed.

There was no clerk in the front of the store, so I went looking in the back. There was a cigarette in the ashtray but it went out halfway through. No one showed up to get gas or make deliveries or buy anything. I took my groceries and left.

I showed up three days later, off an empty country road, and the same thing happened. I left in a huff because the newspapers were the same. I went to the back of the gas station market, and found a pile of old newspapers. I packed them into my car and drove off.

Needless to say, this happened twice a week for the next four weeks. The donuts were no longer fresh and I threw them away. I looted the store after the second week and returned a few days later to find no one there.

The radio seemed to have lost its signal, as nothing played over the radio, even the local AM stations were nowhere to be found. Life was peaceful, but what if I ran out of supplies? Would I raid the camping store in the town twenty miles from this town? I decided to check it out.

I went all the way to the next town, and there was nobody. Not a soul walked the street. I raided the camping store for supplies. I decided to check out some guns. I filled my car up with ammo, rifles, shotguns, bb’s and a bunch of knives. I snagged a better bow and arrows, along with astronaut food, and new shoes were on the list.

My car was crammed and no one could stop me and no one was around to see. I laughed at myself one day hysterically before I saw a payphone on the side of the road. I veered off to use the phone and called Stan. After three rings I got an answer:

“Hello?”

“Stan? Stan! Hey this is Hamil….”

“This is Stan. Leave a bleep at the beep and I’ll get even with ya. Bye.”

There was a beep. It was his stupid answering machine. I screamed at the top of my lungs and slammed the phone down. I would have called Ralph at the health food store, but I didn’t know the number.

I sat on the ground and sobbed. I went back to the cabin and ate some astronaut food and an MRE that I had stolen from the camping store. I stopped by a local market on the way but the veggies were going bad. I grabbed nothing.

A few days later, I got up the Gaul and drove back to my home city. I sped across the bridge through the toll with no clerk and past the sign that said, “Welcome to Erotica. City of eternal pleasure and enlightenment.” That was funny, as everything including erotica seemed taboo in this place. The highway was empty.

It was midafternoon by the time I reached my apartment. No one was around. As I fumbled for my keys, the wind blew lightly, and I barely noticed. Leaves began to blow by. The seasons were changing. I went upstairs and dropped my knapsack and keys on the table. I kicked off my shoes and collapsed on my bed. I slept peacefully and soundly. The day was gone and so was the next one. I didn’t bother to try and figure out what was going on. Maybe I would figure it out, and maybe I wouldn’t.

I got out of bed a few days later and took a shower. The water still worked. It was hot and I stayed in there for about an hour letting the water run off my body. I climbed out of the bathtub and dried off. My electricity still worked. There were lights on in some of the apartments that night, but no one walked in the streets. No cars, nothing. There were no blimps, no traffic, and no planes in the sky. There was no sound, and no one seemed to care.

I watched out my window as the traffic lights changed but no one drove through them. There were little cars in the street but there were cars parked along the curbside. There was no change as the sun came up, and the rush hour was null and devoid of life.

After staying up all night and watching the sun rise, I snuck down to my car and retrieved some of the guns. I packed the rest of them away in the trunk under blankets and put the bow and arrow, knives and some of the MRE’s and dried food into a duffel bag with a couple of pistols.

I locked myself in my room and went to sleep. I woke up late afternoon and waited for the sun to set before I watched from the window again. I repeated this day after day for about four days. About a week after I had returned, I made my way outside one night to see what it was like. There was nothing and it was uneventful.

I looted a couple of stores. I walked away with some electronics and computers but I was preoccupied with how to survive. I stocked up on goodies and snacks to keep my time. I hunted for people and animals, but I could barely find any bugs. There were some ants and flies around, but nothing much more than a couple of spiders. Spiders however, were not much fun, and were pretty dangerous I had found out.

I did an online search on spiders on one of the computers I had stolen, and the web site said that many spiders were poisonous and could randomly just bite on contact with flesh, causing you to need medication and even an operation or a procedure! That kind of thing turned me off real big. I hated bugs and bug bites,

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 27.06.2016
ISBN: 978-3-7396-6230-5

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