Waiting for an important flight to come in and nervous because the big boss is supervising. Poor Johnson and Waxx. Didn’t get any sleep last night. Who’s coming in? Dignitaries. That’s all J & W know. They’re suppose to look their sharpest but nerves shot that. “Makeup to the eyes, makeup to the eyes,” they panicked at 5:15 and 5:25 respectively, having to take turns in the single bathroom of their building. “Visene, Visene,” both exclaimed at 5:30, finally caving in and sharing a bathroom mirror because of the urgency to fix red eyes as well as baggy. At 5:35 they were on the deck. All Orange was waiting for them in the semi-darkness, sharp as a tack and dressed crisp and cleanly. He glanced at his watch. “5 minutes late, gents. Don’t let it happen again on my watch.” He looks up. “Get it?” He points to wrist. “Watch. Funny, eh?” Calm and cool; never panics this one doesn’t. But All Orange? Must be a renegade 5th. That would explain the perfection.
9:35. Main building. Everyone on standstill:
“Did you cast that spell yet, honey? Joey deserves it for sure.” Jack spots Gertrude walking toward the window, knows he’s in trouble. “Okay, erm, gotta run; luv ya.” He hang up. Gertrude stands at the window, pocketbook open. He knows what he has to do. Receptionist Jean Allbright rolls her eyes, having seen it before. The fall of the mighty.
High noon:
Sally, the part time temp receptionist, hauls an important ring binder upstairs to one of the big wigs while dreaming of hopping on her green 10 speed bike outside and riding the hell outta here, never to return. Maybe at one on her lunch break she’ll do just that, lunch break then being the final break — from the company. Oh about that. We’re at a Coast Guard installation, but of recent design, so much so that the 3rd story to the building Marsha Sally is walking up the stairs to the 2nd hasn’t been completed. A couple of people unfamiliar with the construction have already fallen attempting to reach the still nonexistent top floor via the stairs, including Jack the Tripper, Betina Clubfoot, and Marsha Losst. Especially interesting is Jack, since he died. See, it was a spell that erased the 3rd floor, and the 4th and the 5th because they too were present just the day before. Everyone just forgot. The base had been here 5 years. and All Orange had controlled each and every one of the five. The story is so sad we must stop. STOP
3:33 PM:
START 3rd floor has return; 4th and 5th still missing. The spell is wearing off. Somewhat less big boss Phillip Strevor (hi Phillip!) is watching Marsha Camel xerox a lot of papers. Phillip enjoys watching Marsha do this task so he weighs her down, usually about 1 in the afternoon when his own work load gets lighter. He purposely lowered the wheels to the thing again just the other day. She has to hunch over a bit more to do the deed. Phillip likes that. Maybe next week he’ll just take the wheels off completely; no one ever moves the copy machine anyway: he’s guessed it’s been in that one spot going on 5 years, maybe 6. And I believe now this use to be the office of All Orange, before he was promoted to Asst Vice Deputy Chancellor for Overseeing Watches. He must have sat at this same desk, stared at the same… task performing person, in all likelihood another woman of course, and of his “type.” Phillip understands this, man to man. A heavy creaking sound occurs. The 4th floor has suddenly manifested as well. Everyone’s roles shift.
Oh about the dignitary. Turns out they had the wrong day, another effect of the spell in all likelihood. Thursday was the day he was suppose to arrive, which was instead tomorrow. Looks like another night without sleep for the J & W boys.
(to be continued?)
Sunklands 