This is just a thought so if anybody wants to or doesn't want to so be it. Remember when some of us played the Story Game where it was just this fun, non-sequiter story? I thought it might be kind of fun if anyone who wanted to try to come up with a decent story and not something silly. Here are my thoughts as to any type of rules:
You are not limited to writing just one word. Write as much or as little as you want but just try to write a story and not something totally unrelated to what was going on in the previous paragraphs.
There is a very strong possibility that two people will pick up at the same place and write very different scenarios. That's cool and so be it. What I suggest is when that happens, start a new thread and continue on with that story. This way nobody's ideas get omitted and the original story can go in multiple directions. When this does happen, I recommend creating a new thread with the title "Story Game by (the name of the person who took the story a different way)". Anybody interested? I will start and hopefully others will follow:
11:28am. I could never understand why John always conducted his morning meetings in the same manner even after our suggestions? I imagined he felt somewhat threatened by one of his subordinates having a suggestion that could take things a little out of his control. There the five of us would sit, in a glaze as he droned about the expected milestones we were supposed to hit for the first quarter. I gave the impression I was looking at him but I was really looking through him, through the conference room, through the office building, and to the days ahead. I doubt he suspected my disconnectedness....
Suddenly my distracted thoughts were brought back into focus by the furtive movement of Spencer’s hand. That little toady had brazenly taken the last jelly donut from the Krispy Kreme box in the center of the conference table. Now all that was left were the horrid plain donuts which were barely fit to give to the workers out on the shop floor. Damn that Spencer! As soon as John finishes this interminable, droning meeting I’ll fix Spencer’s little red wagon. He’s crossed me for the last time...
"So, if no-one has anything else to add," said John clasping his hands together, "lets get to work shall we?"
And with that he reached down to his seat and picked up his coat, before making his way towards the door. He paused half way to the door and glanced at the doughnuts, his right arm making a preparatory move towards them, before halting and then returning to his side. He looked over at me and raised an eyebrow in a disapproving manner.
"Took the last jelly one eh?"
My anger for Spencer would have no end after this, the weasely little, pig-faced, hippo. I grinned somewhat hopelessly and John turned and continued out of the room...
It was strange watching him eat the donut. I think for him it was almost sexual. I could swear I hear Spencer moan with each bite. He waddled through the corridor, engulfing his conquest and shutting out the rest of the outside world. I made sure the stapler was full and kept my distance in my pursuit....
I followed him through Accounts, and prayed that he would turn into the men's restroom. He paused at the corridor that led to the restrooms...then carried on towards Legal.
Damn! When would I get the chance to...I suddenly stopped and took stock of myself. What was I thinking? I was sweating, heart racing, and about to assault a workmate with a stapler. This was pretty far from a normal day for me - was I ill?
This last insult was just the final straw in a cumulation of small and petty slights by the waddling cess pool that is Spencer. Spencer's campaign to undermine me started months ago with a subtle jabs and devious tricks almost like the slow turning of a screw. Nothing anyone would notice mind you, a mysterious flat tire and a key mark down the side of my new Mazda, a large bite taken out of my sandwich in the breakroom fridge, 'lost' critical files for the James Account and worst of all the smug little bastard snatched up the South side window office when Davidson had left for Europe.
Spencer had artfully kept the pressure on, trying to force me out, but, instead forcing me to act swiftly and decisively. I have a long, slow fuse, but this final confrontation had the inevatibility of a freight train, nothing could stop it now. Spencer had mistakenly decided that I was a sheep, easily manipulated and pushed around at his whim. He would soon learn that even sheep have teeth. With the utter conviction of the righteous I firmed my grip on the heavy office stapler, savoring the feel of the plastic and steel in my slightly sweaty hand.
The timing was perfect, most of the floor had left for lunch dead on 11:30 to beat the rush and I almost expected a tumbleweed to blow down the corridor. The silence was deafening. The sound of our muffled foot steps on the carpet accented by the slightly rapid beating of my heart in my ears.
Spencer, with a final moan of satisfaction, had just shoved the last half of the donut into his grotesque piggy mouth. Not ten feet ahead someone had left the Janitors closet open. I quickly shifted into a full out run, grabbed Spencer by the scruff of his neck and the seat of his pants and drove him through the closet door. Spencer's cry of surprise was muffled by the jelly donut he'd jammed into his face as he sprawled onto the floor of the Janitor's neatly ordered domain.
As Spencer struggled to get to his feet I kicked the Janitors mop bucket into the back of his legs dumping its brown contents over his neatly pressed khakis. The mop itself was a weapon of opportunity and still holding the stapler I jammed the mop into Spencer's back like a knights lance.
I quickly shut the Janitor's closet and with only the light coming from under door to guide me I pounced on Spencer driving my knees into his ribs. Grabbing his hair and jamming the stapler up under Spencer's right ear I whisphered to him, "I own you now you pig. One word and I'll end your miserable life."
Spencer frantically spat out the remains of the donut and started to speak, "What! Are you out of your mind! Get off..." I triggered Helen's stapler into the nerve center under Spencer's ear and cut off his scream by shoving a dirty rag into his mouth. "Listen very carefully as I'm only going to say this once you Pig," I whispered, "You've played your games with me long enough. You're going to get cleaned up and this afternoon, you're going to tender your resignation to John. Do you understand?" I pulled the rag from his mouth to await a reply. Spencer squeeled, "Are you insane? I'm not doing anything of the sort." "You will and you'll do it with a smile on your face," I breathed, "Otherwise, I'll be leaving here and picking your daughter Katie up at St. Mary's and introducing her to a blowtorch and some pliers." Spencer started to object and I thrust the stapler up into his mouth effectively putting a stop to his blithering. Savoring the crack of his ribs as my knees pressed into them, I whispered, "Make no mistake you sniveling weasel, I'll burn your life to the ground, I'll take everything from you, your wife, your daughter even your dog. I'll cut your eyes from your head and dump you in the woods. You will do as I say or suffer swift and horrible retribution. Got it?" Spencer nodded his agreement and I got up kicking him in the balls as I did so.
Leaving Spencer huddled in a pool of mop water in the closet I smoothed my slightly rumpled clothes, ran my fingers through my hair and returned Helen's stapler, now wiped clean of any traces of the confrontation. Suddenly I felt as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I spotted James Tiptree, the Senior Design Engineer, at the copier and invited him to lunch, my treat of course....
I am now so engrossed in my violent fantasies that I didn’t even realize John’s meeting had ended and I was back in my cubicle. I heard the unmistakable rumbling of Spencer pass me no doubt to secure another donut. I’ve done this so many times now I often wonder which world I occupy more? I have gotten skillful enough to the point where my mind can enjoy the solace of this world I created while my physical body does what is necessary to survive in the other. When will the two worlds merge? When will I make it happen or ,more accurately, how long before it happens because I am afraid I have no control of either anymore.
"Maybe I should take the rest of the day off and go for a walk in the park or pick up something for dinner to surprise my wife. Yes thats the ticket." I thought to myself. Maybe I'd be able to resist driving by Spencer's daughter Katie's school this time.
A sudden urge to lob a molotov cocktail into Spencer's office surge up inside me. This further firmed my resolve to leave for the day. I made my excuses and took the elevator down to the parking garage. I made it to the Mazda without incident and savoured the new leather smell of the interior as I settled in to the seat. As a gripped the wheel, I found that my hand hurt, almost as if I really had had a death grip on Helen's stapler. I pushed this thought aside, I put the top down, pulled out of the building and headed towards the farmers market. I'd pick up some flowers for Mary and maybe some fresh fish for dinner. With any luck I'd beat Mary home and have everything ready when she showed up.
The farmer's market was a great idea. All the smells and colors were the perfect distraction from a day full of meetings and internal turmoil. I sipped a great cup of coffee as I wandered through the stalls and picked up ingredients. I ended my tour of the market by purchasing a large bouquet of spring flowers for Mary.
Getting back to my car I loaded everything in the trunk went to climb in the drivers side. A flash of red caught my eye as I opened the door. Helen's bright red stapler was sitting accussingly on the passenger seat almost like a bloody cut in the dark tan leather....
Quickly I called the office…..”Spencer Copeland, please”. Only a few hours have passed since I left but I wanted to make sure I heard his voice:
“Hello. You have reached the desk of Spencer Copeland. I am either away from my desk or on another call right now. Please leave your name, number and a detailed message and…”.
I thought I would just go back to the parking garage to see if his car was still there. I didn’t want to go back in the office and it was probably best that I didn’t. His car wasn’t in its normal spot but that doesn’t mean anything. ” What would happen if I went back to my desk?”. I could just say I forgot something and make sure Spencer was still there. I could also possibly return Helen’s stapler...
Best to just put this behind me, ditch the stapler on the way home and have a quite evening with Mary. I'm sure I just subconciously grabbed the stapler on my way out. It wouldn't be the first time I've walked out with office supplies by accident. Helen would just blame the missing stapler on one of the accounting folk, they're constantly thieving from the Engineering department. Anyway, if I really had done something to Spencer it would be best not to be caught with the evidence. "Plus," I laughed to myself, "all he'll have on me is a pair of badly swollen testicles and his word against mine. He'd sound like a raving madman in the face of my shocked denial."
Throwing the stapler into a nearby dumpster and heading for home was somewhat liberating. Home it was, even the drive seemed shorter than usual as I pulled up to the garage. Unfortunately Mary's car was already in the driveway and it looked like she'd beaten me home afterall. My own fault for cruising back by the office.
“You’re home early”, she said as I walked in the door. She was still in her business attire but she had untucked her blouse. I responded, “So are you.”
“Well how do you expect me to keep my affair going when you show up home in the middle of the day?” She goosed me from behind and was peaking in the grocery bags.
“What didja get me?”
I slapped her hand, “None of your business”. The phone rang and she looked at the caller id before the answering machine started, “It’s the office.”
Mary handed me the phone, “Hello?”
“Peter? It’s Rachel. I’m sorry to bother you at home with you not feeling well.”
“No, it’s no problem. What’s up?”
“Have you seen Spencer? I know he was in the meeting this morning but I haven’t seen him since. I have to do some follow up documentation on the Trivedi case he is working on. Weren’t you working on it as well?”
“Ummmm….no, no I wasn’t. You-you haven’t seen him all day?”
“Well since this morning. Anyway, sorry to bug you at home. Rest up and we’ll see you tomorrow”.
I saw him pass me. I know I did.
Mary started rifling through the grocery bags, “What was that all about?”
“Oh nothing. They were looking for Spencer.”
“And why would the office think you would know where he is? Is it because he takes all of your ideas and pawns them off as his own?”
I was feeling really faint at this point, “Who knows”. I have to check out the office. I can’t remember now if I dumped the stapler or not? Should I go and get it? What about the mop?
WAIT A MINUTE!!!! I saw him pass me for another donut. Nothing happened with the mop or stapler. NOTHING HAPPENED, right?
When I walked in through the front door Mary was standing in the living room, her face ashen and creased with worry. I took a few steps toward her before I saw the two police officers seated on the couch. “Oh, Hank,” she said, “I’m glad you’re here. We’ve been trying to get in touch with you, but you weren’t at the office.”
I took a long look at the two officers and exclaimed, “What’s all this about? Why are the cops here?” Mary started to say something, but one of the officers cut her short and said, “Why don’t you let us explain, Mrs. Buchanan?” The officer then rose and addressed me, “It seems there was a little trouble at your office today. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” When I didn’t answer right away he continued, “It seems there was a theft there today. We know that you were involved in some sort of altercation and left work early. That timing seems to coincide with the time of the theft. If you have anything to say, Mr. Buchanan, I think it would be in your best interest to come clean.”
I was stunned by how quickly events were unfolding. But surely all this couldn’t be about a silly stapler. Feigning ignorance I asked them what was stolen. The cop paused momentarily, as though having to speak of the crime caused him physical pain. Finally, in a barely audible whisper, he said, “A stapler, Mr. Buchanan. A stapler.”
Great Scott! How could they have found out about that already and traced it to me? I was stunned. Trying to buy some time I questioned why they would worry about a common stapler. Although the cop clearly relished the discomfort I appeared in, he decided he had toyed with me long enough. “It wasn’t just a common stapler, Mr. Buchanan,” He informed me. “Helen Meyer won that stapler in a company raffle twenty years ago. But she wasn’t the first person to own it. No, I’m afraid she wasn’t. Would you like to take a guess at who that stapler once belonged to, Mr. Buchanan?”
My mind was reeling. I could barely breathe. The blood pumped through my veins like hammers beating on anvils. The cop’s question raced through my mind, but I was powerless to speak. The cop took a step toward me. He was taller than me and seemed to hover over me, blocking out the light like some malevolent demon. “That stapler,” he finally said, “originally belonged to Traudl Junge. Not familiar with that name, Mr. Buchanan? Traudl Junge was Hitler’s personal secretary. That stapler was forged in the legendary SS stapler works at Berlin, Germany, shortly before the Red Army overran the the city, in 1945.”
Edit: Oops. I see Joe Fist beat me to the punch. This was supposed to be a continuation from the one before. I guess you can disregard it.
(STORY BREAK - No need to disregard what rwingett wrote. I am going to start another thread from his last post and that story can go on from there. I'm trying to make this as freeflowing as possible so anybody can add to any story. You will see what I mean in a few)
To keep this current story accurate, please continue from my post dated: 19 Mar '05 14:23 and disregard rwingett's just posted. To continue on with his, please post in the new thread. I plan to 🙂