Deprivation (525 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 0 on 4 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Fleury (View user info) at 2005-01-17 15:53:01 EST
"Who turned out the goddam lights? Joanne, get Peter on the goddam phone, NOW!"
Everyone has "one of those days" once in while, and Herbert just happened to be having one on this cold January morning. It started with a meeting attended by his sales managers. It continued along with him yelling at his sales managers, and moved forward again with them leaving his office with their tails between their legs. After the meeting it persisted with him spilling his coffee on his favorite shirt, the large stain now old but still cold and wet against his chest.
This, being "one of those days," was just beginning. That's when the lights went out.
"Joanne, goddamit, I said get Peter on the phone, are you deaf?" His voice was loud and raspy, exhausted from the screaming that took place in the aforementioned meeting. Where the hell was she? If there was anything Herbert hated, it was when people weren't exactly where he thought they should be. And for good reason: he had a multi-million dollar company to run here, and if he wanted to talk to one of his staff they would have to be ready for his beckon call, please and thank you.
Herbert got up from his desk, his eyes wide, trying to adjust to the sudden blackness filling his office. He looked to the direction of where his window was, straining to see the familiar landscape of illuminated concrete and glass. But he saw nothing. No buildings, no lights. Just blackness. He couldn't even see the window.
'Jesus, the whole fuckin' town's out.' He thought. 'I guess the phones are out, too. What about the damn backup generator I paid an arm and a leg for? And where the hell is Peter?'
"Judy!!! Godammit Judy!!!!!" Herbert started walking towards his office door, or, rather, where he thought his office door was. It was so incredibly dark at this point he could only guess. He walked slowly and tentatively with his arms waving in front of him, blindly navigating his way through his room. After about a minute, Herbert came to a startling realization. He started to sweat: a cold, clammy sweat. His ulcer punched his guts in retaliation for the sudden influx of stomach acid. There was no door. In fact there was nothing at all. Nothing tangible or substantial. Vertigo ran it's icy hands through his guts and up to his brain.
'Jesus there is a door here. There is a door here. Just a few more steps.' He thought to himself, unconvincingly. 'Just a few more steps.' After another half a minute (or was it half an hour?) of slowly feeling his way forward, and not finding anything, Herbert could take it no longer. Desperate for something concrete, he dropped to his knees, just to feel the pain of his knees smashing down on the hard wood of his office floor. Pain is glorious when senses are deprived. Thankfully, the floor was still there. But that was all Herbert Colewood was thankful for, because ol' Herbert was starting to lose his faculties; a sped up mock of impending and imminent dementia.
He fell forward, rolling to his side. In the fetal position Herbert managed to let out a sqeak: "Joanne?" Even if he screamed, no one would have heard him.
User Reviews
Submitted by Fleury75 (user info) at 2005-02-06 10:12:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
dangit. i didnt write this post.
*note to self: lock computer when going on lunch!
Submitted by Fleury75 (user info) at 2005-02-06 10:11:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
doh!
Submitted by Socialist_Joe (user info) at 2005-02-06 09:59:04 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
nope
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2005-01-17 16:03:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
mee likee