I was on the phone with about six people at once, multiple different conference calls, and one of my airpods was already dead.
"Yeah--yeah, yeah, I know," I said, "We couldn't--no, they dropped us because of the fees, not the serv--yep, yes, I know."
I rolled my eyes. The board didn't care. They'd picked their narrative already. God, I was tired.
I flicked on the mute button. "Pete," I said, lifting on airpod out of my ear.
My assistant Pete turned.
Pete had been a...fine? I guess? Guy when I first met him. His interests included craft beer, hiking, and enjoying the above two with his German Shepherd Rowdy. One of a kind Denverite, lemme tell ya. Then Pete went camping, and when he came back he was...
Ill.
His eyes were ragged and baggy, bloodshot, bruised. His hair was a mess, half had fallen out. His teeth were...different. Yellow. Dark yellow. His skin looked like it barely fit.
But he fielded all my calls expertly that day. Had time to run to starbucks, too. And life had never been the same.
"Pete, can you hold my three o'clock? The Board wants to have yet another phone call, not that this one is even close to finished. Errr-- bottom line-- Cancel my three o'clock for board meeting part 2?"
"Ḯ̵̤ẗ̴̩̙́̃ ̴̭͗i̵̧͉͗̃s̶̪̉ ̴̻͐d̷̫̯̆͛ó̶̦n̸̡͍̍͆e̷̕" said Pete, the irises around his eyes flashing crimson for a brief moment.
"Yes," I said, then winced. I'd forgotten to mute. "Latte please," I whispered.
"Ọ̸̇Ǎ̵̗T̷̢̎ ̴̡̌M̶̥̆Ḯ̴̧L̸͇̈́K̶͈̉ ̷͉̄?" Pete croaked, and I gave him the thumbs up.
He nodded solemly and turned to leave, a crown of bones forming in the air above his head.
"Hey Pete!" Susan from Marketing said.
Pete's jaw distended a full foot, and a rush of wind escaped the twisting obsidian storm of his abyssal black maw.
Then Pete disintegrated into a cloud of flies and left the office.
Meanwhile, the board kept ragging on me and ragging on me, like all this was my fault! The Kaminski account was doomed the moment we upped their rates. We got greedy. I said this was going to happen a thousand times. I fought against it every step of the way.
But they wanted to squeeze for a bit more, and here we were.
"I tried to--" I started, but the board cut me off.
I tried not to break down. Tried not to cry in front of Susan from Marketing. I was just so frustrated. So unhappy. Is this life? Is this why I exist? Trillions of planets, trillions of years, organisms, all these insanely low chances that I even exist to experience life, and I spend it getting yelled at by the board because they had decided that "the narrative" was that I'd screwed up?
I sighed.
I was about to unmute myself when the conversation at the other end tapered off.
I heard confused noises, questioning tones. Then the first scream pierced the telephone line in harsh static. Then more screaming. Bloodcurtling screaming. The sloshing of flesh. The spilling of blood.
Then silence.
Finally, someone on the other end of the line spoke. It sounded like the chairman. Almost.
There was a buzzing as Pete reformed next to me. He handed me my latte.
"Oatmilk?" I whispered.
"O̸͉͝a̷̖̅t̴̪͝m̷̫̈́i̵̳͆ĺ̷̹k̷̛̞," he confirmed.
I smiled.
He smiled back. His lip sagged down to his chin, revealing blue and yellow-crusted gums, and Pete had to manually pull it back up to the right place, but hey-- a smile is a smile.
He took a big slurp of his drink. One of the caramel drizzle things with the whip cream.
"Thank you," I whispered.
Pete just gave me a thumbs up.
​
------
/r/ethanfeld
​
Thanks for the fun prompt, /u/Black1495. I̶̖̓ ̸̪̈h̶͈͆ạ̸̕d̴͉͋ ̸͇̄a̸̻͝ ̵̙̇ļ̵̑ŏ̵̯t̸̢͗ ̶̫͌o̷͙̐f̶̞̉ ̸̫͒f̵̤͑ȕ̸̳n̶͓̍ ̷̤͋ <3
Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.
Reminders:
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>* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]"
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>* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules
ethanfeld t1_jactn3e wrote
Busy, busy day.
Then the Kaminski Account fell through.
I was on the phone with about six people at once, multiple different conference calls, and one of my airpods was already dead.
"Yeah--yeah, yeah, I know," I said, "We couldn't--no, they dropped us because of the fees, not the serv--yep, yes, I know."
I rolled my eyes. The board didn't care. They'd picked their narrative already. God, I was tired.
I flicked on the mute button. "Pete," I said, lifting on airpod out of my ear.
My assistant Pete turned.
Pete had been a...fine? I guess? Guy when I first met him. His interests included craft beer, hiking, and enjoying the above two with his German Shepherd Rowdy. One of a kind Denverite, lemme tell ya. Then Pete went camping, and when he came back he was...
Ill.
His eyes were ragged and baggy, bloodshot, bruised. His hair was a mess, half had fallen out. His teeth were...different. Yellow. Dark yellow. His skin looked like it barely fit.
But he fielded all my calls expertly that day. Had time to run to starbucks, too. And life had never been the same.
"Pete, can you hold my three o'clock? The Board wants to have yet another phone call, not that this one is even close to finished. Errr-- bottom line-- Cancel my three o'clock for board meeting part 2?"
"Ḯ̵̤ẗ̴̩̙́̃ ̴̭͗i̵̧͉͗̃s̶̪̉ ̴̻͐d̷̫̯̆͛ó̶̦n̸̡͍̍͆e̷̕" said Pete, the irises around his eyes flashing crimson for a brief moment.
"Great, thanks."
"I̵̥͗ ̴͖̆ẅ̵̭́a̵̙͝s̶͔̾ ̶̨͠ẗ̷̹h̴̹̉i̴̠͘n̵̪͑k̵̜͋i̵͚͝ṇ̵͋g̸͖̈́ ̶̛̘o̶͈͂f̷͉͑ ̵̨̍g̷̞͆ò̷͖i̵͈̽n̴̼͐g̷̮̾ ̸̬̀ţ̷͑ō̶̜ ̸̗́S̷͓̍ț̷̅a̸̐͜r̴̠̍b̴̨͌u̶͈͋c̸̖̚k̸͎̈s̴̯͑ ̴̑͜w̸͔͘o̷̲̓u̵̩͠l̸̜̚ḏ̸͆ ̵̗͌y̵̜͒ỏ̸̬ṷ̴͝ ̷̺̎l̶̞͗i̵̱̇k̴̥͠ȅ̷̙ ̵͈͐s̵̜̿o̴̟̒m̶̻̂ě̶͍?"
"Yes," I said, then winced. I'd forgotten to mute. "Latte please," I whispered.
"Ọ̸̇Ǎ̵̗T̷̢̎ ̴̡̌M̶̥̆Ḯ̴̧L̸͇̈́K̶͈̉ ̷͉̄?" Pete croaked, and I gave him the thumbs up.
He nodded solemly and turned to leave, a crown of bones forming in the air above his head.
"Hey Pete!" Susan from Marketing said.
Pete's jaw distended a full foot, and a rush of wind escaped the twisting obsidian storm of his abyssal black maw.
Then Pete disintegrated into a cloud of flies and left the office.
Meanwhile, the board kept ragging on me and ragging on me, like all this was my fault! The Kaminski account was doomed the moment we upped their rates. We got greedy. I said this was going to happen a thousand times. I fought against it every step of the way.
But they wanted to squeeze for a bit more, and here we were.
"I tried to--" I started, but the board cut me off.
I tried not to break down. Tried not to cry in front of Susan from Marketing. I was just so frustrated. So unhappy. Is this life? Is this why I exist? Trillions of planets, trillions of years, organisms, all these insanely low chances that I even exist to experience life, and I spend it getting yelled at by the board because they had decided that "the narrative" was that I'd screwed up?
I sighed.
I was about to unmute myself when the conversation at the other end tapered off.
I heard confused noises, questioning tones. Then the first scream pierced the telephone line in harsh static. Then more screaming. Bloodcurtling screaming. The sloshing of flesh. The spilling of blood.
Then silence.
Finally, someone on the other end of the line spoke. It sounded like the chairman. Almost.
"W̸̻͑ê̷̞ ̵̫̎h̸̖̔a̶̳͋v̴̲̓e̷̳̔ ̵̙̚r̸̜̽ḙ̵̉c̶̯͝ò̵̝n̷̈́͜s̸̞̆i̵̟͐ḍ̴̎e̶͘ͅȓ̴̼e̷͈̿d̸̜̄ ̵̠͗t̶͉͗h̷̗͐e̷̤̾ ̸̛̯s̸̺͂ị̴̃t̷̨̂ų̶̽a̷̘͘t̵̛̟ḯ̸̡o̶̟̊n̸̜͑," the chairman said. "A̷̰͑n̷̲͂d̸̖͝ ̵̢̑ȧ̷̞p̵͈̽õ̷̩l̶̨̔ǒ̸̧g̸̫͊i̶̥͋z̸̻͌\̴͊͜e̶̟̒ ̶͉̈́f̵͓͊o̷̱̕r̸̯̂ ̶̢̓b̸͉͆l̸̻̆ȁ̶͚ṃ̶̂i̴̧͌n̵͑ͅg̴̪͝ ̸͙̒y̶͕͌o̷̻̿ū̴̡.̴̺̆ ̶̗͗"
There was a buzzing as Pete reformed next to me. He handed me my latte.
"Oatmilk?" I whispered.
"O̸͉͝a̷̖̅t̴̪͝m̷̫̈́i̵̳͆ĺ̷̹k̷̛̞," he confirmed.
I smiled.
He smiled back. His lip sagged down to his chin, revealing blue and yellow-crusted gums, and Pete had to manually pull it back up to the right place, but hey-- a smile is a smile.
He took a big slurp of his drink. One of the caramel drizzle things with the whip cream.
"Thank you," I whispered.
Pete just gave me a thumbs up.
​
------
/r/ethanfeld
​
Thanks for the fun prompt, /u/Black1495. I̶̖̓ ̸̪̈h̶͈͆ạ̸̕d̴͉͋ ̸͇̄a̸̻͝ ̵̙̇ļ̵̑ŏ̵̯t̸̢͗ ̶̫͌o̷͙̐f̶̞̉ ̸̫͒f̵̤͑ȕ̸̳n̶͓̍ ̷̤͋ <3