Free CLANK: A Book of Madness (Psychological Satire Novel) Unsettled Office Worker Loses the Last Screw by Draven Madpen Page B

thirty pounds. She’s got an athletic physique. A
hard body; muscled without being masculine in the least. And as such she easily
scoops me up off the floor and assists me into the break room. The last clank
is silenced as the door shuts with a bang.
     
    There I am in the break room,
sitting across from the beautiful Natasha. She looks irritated and not the
least bit concerned. Her arms are folded across her chest. She has elected to
remain standing instead of taking a chair. Obviously she won’t be staying long.
One leg is stiff and the other is slightly relaxed, which makes one side of her
hips rise giving the appearance of intense vexation. Her lips are pressed
firmly together. Looking over her entire body and noting the position of every
feature I can tell she is rather angry. Perhaps annoyed is a more accurate
description. Unhappy at any rate.
    “Well?” she finally says.
    Huh? I’m at a loss. What does
she expect from me?
    “Thanks…?” I say somewhat
unsurely.
    My answer does not appease
her. Natasha unfolds those toned arms as she places them on her hips, akimbo
style. Not a friendly posture either.
    “What happened to you?”
    Can I tell her the truth?
Would she believe me? Would anyone? An arrogant man eating his lunch out of a
large glass bowl drove me insane? It doesn’t sound like something a sane man
would say. I can just imagine how the Looney bin doctors would comment. They’d
want to lock me up. And I’ve had my share of padded cells for a lifetime.
    “Well, you see…” I begin.
“There was a, uh…”
    “A clank? You said a clank.”
    “Right, a clank. There was a
clank. My, uh, pencil rolled off the desk and fell onto the floor. I, uh, bent
down and, uh, picked it up. Well, I tried to anyway. Apparently I bumped,
smashed more like it, hit really hard, my head --- uh, against the desk and it
caused a clanking noise. It didn’t feel that painful at first but I must have
been knocked nearly unconscious and that’s why I stumbled into the hallway.”
Whew, this whopper of a lie left me breathless, wheezing for air.
    Natasha drops her head
incredulously. Then she shrugs her shoulder and heads for the door. It’s at
this very moment I notice a disconcerting observation -- one with critical
import. An unsettling realization… I have received no inspiration from our
encounter. Seeing, no, being touched by the beautiful and wondrous
Natasha? And I feel nothing! My mind is utterly consumed by the fading sounds
of spoon against glass.
    “Whatever. As long as you’re
alright. Are you?”
    “Sure. Thanks for helping me
out.”
    “Don’t mention it,” she says
before reiterating her point. “Really, don’t mention it.”
    I hold up a hand peacefully to
show I’ve gotten the message. The door shuts and she’s gone. Its loud clunk
smashing against the frame brings my mind back to awareness.
    Goddamnit… Wilmer’s got
another bowl!
     
    Chagrin: mental uneasiness caused by disappointment or humiliation.
     

14
     
    So… the big man thinks he can
push me around huh? Show ol’ J-man what’s what? I got rid of his bowl
and he has the temerity to go out and buy another? And not simply just any
other oversized glass bowl, but one that generates an even more irksome clank.
    I sit here in my chair looking
through his slightly opened door, peering in, observing the dastardly
replacement setting atop his desk beside a few muscle shakes. He’s clicking
away on his computer with a full belly. The bastard. Did I go through all of
that effort to be ridiculed? How dare he do this to me. It’s the final straw…
I feel like walking straight into his office, unzipping my pants and pissing
right into that glass cursed object. Drink up! Then I’d dump it out over
his head, watching the liquid dampen his filthy shiny perfect hair! And toss
the bowl through the window when I was done. That’s what I’d like to do.
     
    An irate ice-cream man hatches
a plot to exact revenge on bothersome soccer moms.