George arrived at the office a few minutes early this morning, so he headed over to the employee break room to grab some breakfast before starting his day. The hardwood floorboards swished cold and smooth beneath the soles of his bare feet, and from the way the wintery chill seeped into his skin and settled into the marrow of his aching knees, he could tell the new office manager had forgotten to turn the heat on.

A few moments later, George stepped into the employee break room. Here he saw a man sitting at the lunch table, eating a bowl of corn flakes. George had never seen this man before, but from the rumors he’d recently heard floating around the hallways, he figured this had to be Greene’s new office manager. For the past few days, everyone around the office, including George, had been in an uproar over how young and inexperienced Greene’s new office manager was rumored to be, and now, finally meeting the man face to face, George felt even more angry. This man looked to be no older than thirty or thirty-five, nearly twenty years younger than George’s fifty-four. And as if that wasn’t infuriating enough, this kid had come into work wearing nothing but a pair of old sweatpants and a ratty white t-shirt with a stretched-out collar. Seeing this, George clenched his teeth and made a mental note to have a serious talk with his son Randall this afternoon after the boy’s track meet. Young men need discipline and structure, and this dunce sitting before him was living proof that twelve years old was absolutely not too early to start educating his boy about professionalism and accountability in the workplace.

“Morning Dad,” the new office manager said to George. “How are you feeling today?”

A thick fog of anger collected in George’s head as he walked over to the toaster oven in the corner of the room. A jar of grape jam, a freshly sliced bagel, and a clean butter knife sat neatly arranged on the counter in front of the toaster. While George’s hands picked up the bagel, slipped it into the toaster, and set the dial to medium-brown, he turned his head and fixed an angry stare at the kid sitting at the table.

“That’s how you show up for work on your first day?” George said to the new office manager. “In your goddamn underwear?”

“Oh okay, so we’re at the office already,” the new office manager said, nodding to himself. “Got it.”

“It’s six fifty-one on Monday morning. Where the hell else would we be?” George said.

Moments later, as George turned back to the toaster, he caught a glimpse of his stalker watching him through the break room window. The image had been nothing more than a flicker of movement in the dark, a split-second flash of a pair of eyes behind the glass, but George knew his stalker was out there. He had seen those gray-blue eyes so many times over the past year he’d be able to recognize them in his sleep. So to throw that murderous bastard off his trail, George pretended he hadn’t seen anything, and instead waited for the heating bars inside the toaster to glow a brilliant, neon orange.

“You’re right, George, I’m sorry about that,” the new office manager said. “My dad always told me that the best way to get ahead in life is to keep my mouth shut and my ears open, so I’ll be sure to do that from now on.”

“Damn right. I tell my boy the exact same thing every day. Not sure how good he listens since he’s only twelve, but I still make sure to tell him,” George said. “Your father sounds like a smart man.”

“Yeah,” the new office manager said, looking at George with a tired smile. “He was.”

From here George noticed that the new office manager’s eyes had suddenly gone red and watery, as if the man was about to cry, so he looked away. Public displays of emotion had always made him uncomfortable. But when he saw the man’s dreadful personal appearance for a second time, his anger rushed back in an instant.

 “Too bad he didn’t teach you anything about professionalism or presenting yourself in the right way.”

“Yeah,” the new office manager said, turning back to his cereal. His voice was quiet and thin. “I overslept this morning, so I didn’t have the chance to get every single thing ready for you. Sorry about that.”

George shook his head in disgust.

“Well, excuses are like assholes. Everybody’s got one. And if you think me or Howard Greene or anyone else in this office is going to tolerate excuses, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Now George looked down at the toaster. Though the dial was still set on medium brown, the heating bars inside the toaster were black and cold. Seeing this, he figured it was done toasting. So he removed his cold bagel, picked up the grape jam and the knife, and walked over to the lunch table.

As George passed the window, he saw his stalker once again. And as usual, the bastard was mocking him, imitating his exact actions as he walked past the window. But this time the psycho took things a step further. Somehow that asshole had acquired a set of exact replicas of everything George was holding in his hands at this moment: the plate, the knife, the grape jam, everything. Even the goddamn bagel!

Despite his surprise, George was ready for this gambit. That bastard had been trying to kill him for over a year, so by now, nothing he did would ever catch George off guard. And thanks to his past experience with this psycho, George knew exactly how to get rid of him: the police. One call to the police and the stalker would have to engage his alien cloaking device to avoid capture, which would then drain the device’s battery and force him to return to his hideout for ten minutes so it could recharge.

With all this in mind, George sat down at the table across from the new office manager. From here he leaned forward and spoke as quietly as he could to the man.

“I know this is your first day on the job, but you need to shut your mouth and listen to me very carefully,” George said. He darted his eyes to the slab of black-blue sky visible through the break room window. “There’s a man outside that window who is trying to kill me. He is very dangerous and has access to alien technology that is more advanced than anything the human race can possibly imagine. The only way to make him go away is to call the police as soon as possible. If we do that, he’ll have to engage his alien cloaking device to avoid capture, which will quickly drain the battery and force him to return to his hideout while the device recharges.”

Hearing this, the new office manager let out an anguished sigh and looked up at the ceiling. Moments later George noticed two shining trails of tears crawling down the man’s face, but George didn’t feel any sympathy for him. This is exactly what happens when you steal your job from a more qualified man instead of working for it like everybody else.

“Oh my God,” the new office manager said. “I can’t do this anymore, Dad. I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it.”

“Then why the hell did you take this job in the first place you disrespectful little shit!” George said, picking up his plate and winging it at the new office manager’s head. The plate whizzed past the kid’s ear like a frisbee and shattered against the wall behind. “I’ve been working with Howard Greene for over seventeen years! I was supposed to be the next manager of this office! Me! Two years ago he promised me that position! That was my promotion before you came in here and sucked him off in the supply closet to weasel your way in! And as if that wasn’t enough, I’ve got this psycho bastard out here trying to kill me for over a year, and still, I come into work every goddamn day! Risking my life to put food on the table for my wife and son!”

Without a word, the new office manager walked around the table, pulled George out of his chair, and shoved him toward the window.

“Get your hands off me!” George said. He kicked and punched the new office manager as hard as he could, but nothing worked. The kid held him in a bear hug as tight as a steel vice.

As they approached the window, George felt a wave of cold terror crash over him.

“You fucking bastard,” George said, his body quivering in fear. “You’re in on it aren’t you? You goddamn rat. I should’ve known that bastard wasn’t working alone. No wonder you got that job instead of me. So, what’s the plan? Are you going to kill Howard Greene too? Are you two just going to kill everyone in this office to make sure you don’t get caught?”

“No one is trying to kill you,” the new office manager said into George’s ear. Now he positioned George in front of the break room window and gripped the back of his head and forced him to look outside. But when George looked through the glass, all he saw was that murderous bastard with the gray-blue eyes staring back at him. “Nobody is out there. That’s the reflection of your own face in the glass.”

Hearing this, the murderous bastard widened his eyes in phony terror and turned his face away, mocking George with a clownish impression of his own fear.

 “Bullshit!” George said, whipping his head backward as hard as he could. A dry crack rang out from somewhere behind. A sharp needle of pain bored into the back of his head. Following this, the new office manager let out a wet groan, released George from the bear hug, and crumpled to the floor. Then, as the kid groaned on the floor, thick red blood pouring from his broken nose, George slipped through the door of the break room and shuffled down the hallway toward his cubicle. But since those two murderous bastards had turned out all the lights in the office, George quickly lost his way in a dizzying maze of dark corridors and unfamiliar rooms.

From here George frantically searched for a way to escape, but nothing made sense. Every hallway he stumbled down looked the same. Each door he came across stood as an unmarked mystery. And no matter how many rooms he checked, he couldn’t find the exit. Instead, every door he opened somehow led back to the same two rooms: a reeking bedroom with an old man’s clothes strewn about the floor, a white-tiled bathroom with a small door built into the side of the bathtub.

After another minute of terrified confusion, George admitted to himself that those murderous bastards had trapped him. So he closed himself off in the white-tiled bathroom and started yelling for help. He knew it was a longshot, but he hoped Rodger or Pete would show up late as usual and hear him calling. Maybe then they would make themselves useful for once and rescue him before the murdering psychos could kill them too.

For the next few minutes, George sat on the cold tile of the bathroom and yelled for help.

No one came. He was completely alone.

But that was okay because soon he realized it was time to head off to work, so he stood up, stepped out of the bathroom, and started his morning commute to the office.

George arrived at the office a few minutes early this morning, so he headed over to the employee break room to grab some breakfast before starting his day. The hardwood floorboards swished cold and smooth beneath the soles of his bare feet, and from the way the wintery chill seeped into his skin and settled into the marrow of his aching knees, he could tell the new office manager had forgotten to turn the heat on.

A few moments later, George stepped into the employee break room. Here he saw a man sitting at the lunch table, holding a wad of bloody napkins to his face. George had never seen this man before, but from the rumors he’d recently heard floating around the hallways, he figured this had to be Greene’s new office manager.

Before George could say a word, the man stood up and removed the napkins from his face. An upside-down, black-red V of dried blood clung to the bridge of the man’s severely crooked nose. Thick rings of purple flesh hung beneath his watery, bloodshot eyes. Despite this, he stared at George with a determination so fierce it bordered on rage. Seeing this, George knew in an instant that this man was Greene’s new office manager. Though George couldn’t imagine what had happened during the man’s commute for him to show up to work in this state, he couldn’t help but respect the man already. A real man doesn’t make excuses, and George could tell from his stare alone that he’d never hear an excuse from this man. With all this in mind, George felt a little less angry about Greene breaking his word and giving the office manager promotion to this man instead of him.

“Good morning, George, I’m Randall,” the man said, his voice thick and muffled from his injuries. He offered his hand for a handshake.

“Nice to meet you, Randall,” George said, taking the man’s hand and gripping it tightly. The man returned the pressure and then some. “That’s a nice firm handshake you got there. And I like that name too. My son’s name is Randall.”

“I know.”

“Is that so?” George said, with a smile and a nod. He was liking this kid more and more by the second. Natural born leader. No wonder Greene hired him. “Did some research on your men before coming into the office? I like the sound of that.”

“A real man takes his job seriously. That’s what my dad always taught me.”

“Damn right. He sounds like a smart man.”

“He was. But if it’s alright with you I’d like to get started,” Randall said, gesturing toward the doorway of the break room. “Mr. Greene just told me about an appraisal we’ve got scheduled for this morning at a business over in Topine, and I’d like to ride along with you and observe you in action.”

“Who’s the client?” George said. “What kind of business?”

Randall cleared his throat and looked down at the floor. George followed his gaze and saw that the kid’s hands were shaking.

“It’s one of those elderly care places,” Randall said. “A twenty-four-hour care facility for elderly people with brain issues like dementia.”

George clicked his tongue and nodded.

“Oh okay, yup. Not surprising. Those places have accidents all the time. Lots of property damage,” George said. Now he fished around in his pockets for his car keys. “Just let me find my keys and we’ll be off.”

“Actually, Mr. Greene said he’d prefer that I drive,” Randall said, holding up a set of car keys. “That way you can go over the paperwork on the drive over.”

Hearing this, George studied the kid’s beat up face and wondered whether it was safe for him to be driving with injuries like that. But once again, the kid’s determined expression quickly quelled his fears.

With that sorted out, George smiled and made his way to the door.

“Sounds good. You’re the boss, boss.”

As he passed, he gave the kid a friendly thump on the shoulder.

“What’d you say your name was again?”

“It’s Randall.”

“No kidding. My son’s name is Randall,” George said. “He’s going to be thirteen in August.”

“I know.”

– Steve Gergley