Sweets

Sweets

He arrived on time to work for the first time in over a month. Their leniency made him chuckle, although he often wished they’d lay him off so he could get away from there and collect unemployment for a while. Placing his lunch in the office refrigerator, he noticed an aluminum container on the counter. He lifted the lid out of curiosity and found an array of baked pastries. Being as he had decided to swear off of sweets, he closed the lid and walked out of the office toward his shop to do a day’s worth of nothing.

Around 11 a.m. he decided to head back over to the office to grab a snack to keep him until lunchtime. Glancing at the bakery tray on the counter, he noticed that all but three cookies had been devoured. “The people here are SUCH gluttons!” he thought judgmentally. After he quickly imbibed his snack in the break room, he realized it was about time to “hit the train station” because “the train was coming through”. He and his buddy used these phrases to describe going into the bathroom and everything that generally happened while in there.

Walking down the hall, the office seemed awfully quiet. He went into the bathroom, did his business, and decided to swing over to his buddy’s cubicle for a quick chat. On the way, he noticed that the I.T. lady was not at her desk. “How typical”, he mused scornfully. “She’s never actually doing anything.” He turned the corner to the right and then again at the end of the faux-walls that imprisoned every wage slave in the place. He walked into Jim’s cube.

It took him a second to process the fact that Jim was slumped over in his chair. “Wake up, asshole!” he said in a soft voice so as not to alert everyone in the surrounding cubes to his presence. Jim did not respond. He leaned over the desk and gently slapped Jim’s buzz-cut head. No response. “Jim? Jim? Oh shit! Jim!” he spouted frantically.

He sprinted out of the cubicle to find help. Mike did not appear to be in his office on the left, but Dana, in the office next to him, was slumped over her desk. He wondered aloud, “what the fuck is happening!?” Two of the customer service ladies were lying on the floor next to their chairs. There was no blood.

In the next five offices in a row he saw John motionless in his chair, two vacancies, the president half hanging out of his, and the clownish head-of-sales with his forehead down on the particle board. The secretary had fallen out of her chair, which was neatly positioned on top of her. As seconds passed, his panic began to increase. He pushed the button for the elevator, but when it opened he was greeted by Lindsay the marketing woman’s lifeless body on the floor.

Having no idea what to do, he ran outside, jumped in his truck and left the premises until the end of his shift. Returning at 5, he jumped in his car and sped home. He thought himself an obvious suspect in the apparent murders of his co-workers, even though he had not the slightest idea what had just happened that day. Walking through the door of his home, he took his shoes and pants off and lay down upon the couch with the t.v. remote. The media had already gotten wind of what had happened and the story was all over the television. He assumed he would not be expected to report to work tomorrow, the thought of which made him smile ever-so-slightly.