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Untitled Story. Chapter 1 – (Rough Draft) – (Thoughts?)

Chapter 1 – The Fear.

The man groaned. Slowly, quietly and creakily at first, but in the span of a few seconds, the little groaning whimper became much louder and accompanied by stretching limbs and eyelids flickering and struggling to open , a crescendo of pained awakening. The thin light beams lasering into the room through the blinds met the man’s barely opened eyes with the intensity of a welding torch’s flame.


The man’s hand lifted up into the musty air for a second or two, made a tight fist, then unmade the fist and all 3-and-a-half fingers and a crooked thumb stretched outwards with a few cracks and pops being met with a moan of relief. After this brief physical therapy session, the man’s hand fell back onto the floor, where the carpet should have been, but wasn’t – instead of soft, cushy carpet, the man’s hand fell onto the basic hardwood floor that conveniently came with the house, free-of-charge.

With more light beaming into the room with each passing moment, the man felt safe to try getting up. “Try” ended up being the key word, because his first attempt failed due to his head hitting a tall coat stand – a coat stand that was peculiarly sitting horizontally, parallel to the floor, so now it was more “long” than “tall” – with one end resting on the surface of the man’s ironing board, held in place with a power cord wrapped around it, and the other end resting on top of the man’s TV cabinet, nestled in place in one of the jagged V-shaped bits of wooden ornamentation.  “Why is that like that?”, he mumbled to himself, whilst simultaneously wondering where all his coats went.


With one hand on the ground and the other on his knee, he finally pushed himself up into a upright position. Now standing with his horizontal coat stand acting as a sort of impossibly narrow breakfast bar table in front of him, he was able to survey his room in its entirety. “Well, I’ve outdone myself this time”, he said out loud. “Yeah, we went fuckin’ hard last night……I guess, I can’t remember shit”, proclaimed a voice from the kitchen. The man swung his head around to face the general are the voice came from. Another man shuffled out from behind the dividing wall wearing a bathrobe, holding a coffee mug in one hand, and a ringing phone in the other. “Remember me? I met you in the bar earlier last night and we came back here, apparently”. “Oh fuck, yeah man, the last thing I remember was making fun of you for being a dude with the name ‘Jesse’…….sorry ’bout that, Jesse”. “Why don’t you answer your phone?” “Because this, is your phone, man”, Jesse declared.

The phone stopped ringing just before the man could answer it. His heart sank upon seeing it was his Boss ringing him, for the fifth time in the last thirty minutes. He immediately snapped out of his daze and realized he was late, very late, for work. In a fight-or-flight response, he chose ‘flight’. He dashed into his bedroom, put on his work pants over his shoes, slipped his work jacket over his muscle shirt and sprayed all the deodorant that was left in the can over the entirety of his arms, neck, butt and groin. Lastly, to complete the outfit, he put his clip-on tie around his neck, and with a flourish, fastened it tightly. His nametag, pinned onto his tie, was facing backwards. He flipped it around to face the right way. He looked at his nametag in the mirror and said aloud “Come on, you can do this, ‘eff U‘…….?” The letter J had worn off from his first name, Jeff reasoned. There was no time to forage around for a marker pen to draw a J on the nametag, frantic Jeff hastily got in his car and drove way too fast to work anyway, all he could do was hope to high hell that he’d be able to find a marker pen somewhere at work before his Boss saw him.


Chapter 2 –








About SarcasticGoat

Just a chilled out goat who likes sitting back, drinking lemonade and thinking about the world.


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