• Dzama

Time to Move On

My plan was to resign just as soon as I had something else. No new job had panned out yet, so here I was, walking down the carpeted hall with a styrofoam cup of dishwater-flavored coffee in my hand. I was the first one in the conference room so I took one of the executive chairs and kicked back, drawing a series of puking skulls on my notepad to kill time. The usual guys filed in, making sarcastic remarks to each other. “Why you gotta break my eggs,” asked Mellon but it was not really a question at all- breaking each other’s balls was the protocol. I stayed out of the fray and elaborated on the skull/puke pattern that had spread across the meeting agenda.

The new guy showed up, a skinny programmer who had basically taken the lowest offer, underbidding his competition. “Hi,” he said and I nodded. “Welcome,” said Barney. “My one piece of advice to you is avoid this asshole.” He gestured to Mellon. “The only reason he’s here is he provides intimate sexual favors for Matil—.” and he stopped as Matilda came in, slamming her briefcase down on the table. The new guy gave a start and his eyes locked with Matilda’s. Everyone could just feel the pure hatred between them. I actually got the chills just sitting there, which never happens.

Then they sprang at each other like two wildcats with rabies. Their glasses went flying off their faces and they crashed across the table, laptops and coffees flying everywhere. They were alternately strangling and scratching at each other and everyone else was too shocked to do anything. One of Matilda’s high heels swiped Barney’s cheek and drew blood. He let out a high-pitched squeak. The two combatants rolled across the conference table, pulling hair and punching each other. All Mellon could do was keep repeating, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” The other guys tried to rescue their laptops but arms and legs were wildly flailing and they couldn’t get close enough.

I did the only thing a respectable technical support dispatcher could do- I pulled out my camera phone and began documenting the battle. I got them crashing through the mini-blinds and the floor-to-ceiling windows on video- I could not believe my luck.

That’s when the new guy started to change. His face was red and scratched as Matilda straddled him, her bloody hands locked around his skinny neck. But then he transformed- dark, coarse hair sprouted from his cheeks and forehead. His nose and mouth stretched, forming a snout, and his teeth grew to became huge wolf teeth. He hurled Matilda back through the window and she landed on top of me- both of us crashing to the floor in a pile beside the conference table.

The new guy/wolfman was on top of us, tearing Matilda apart. Soon we were both drenched in Matilda’s blood. She kept trying to reach for her briefcase and, since I was closer, I grabbed it for her. She got a small, shiny gun halfway out of the purse before the wolf-creature swung his terrible claws and took her head clean off. I reached and grabbed the gun from her gory fingers. Before the wolf-guy could attack me I fired a series of shots into his heart and they must have been silver bullets or something because he went right down, transforming slowly back into the new guy.

I rolled the headless Matilda off me and struggled to my feet, wiping the thick coating of blood off my face with my sleeve. I was alone in the decimated conference room, stepping over broken glass and smashed electronics. On complete autopilot, I picked up Matilda’s head and set it above her neck, where it should have been attached. I even found myself trying to clean up in there, putting broken laptops into a pile on the table. But upon hearing sirens I snapped out of it and ran for the fire escape. Today would be the day I finally quit that job and never came back. Too bad I needed something major like that to make me finally do it.

On my way to the freeway the cop cars and fire engine rushed by me, unaware they were losing a key witness literally dripping with evidence. I hit the 5 North, turned up the music, and never looked back.

 

 

Copyright © 2008. All Rights Reserved.

This entry was posted in Short Story. Bookmark the permalink. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

*
*