Graffin

Here's a new one. Though I have to admit it is a re-write of one of my ten minute stories. I turned it in for class today. Let me know what you think. I fuckin' love it

Not surprisingly, the toss was perfect.

I unconsciously clenched my hand on the metal ring I was left holding as I watched the waffle-patterned orb turn and rotate in the air. One bounce, then a perfect slide across the table until its momentum was interrupted by the speaker phone and it came to rest.

Two years spent staring at the same chest-high, grey-carpeted walls. Two years of drinking the same cheap coffee. Two years of mindlessly punching the same numbers into the same spreadsheet on the same keyboard in my own personal Skinner box.

Two years of Mr. MBA and his “good morning” delivered in the same fake tone as the day before. Two years of his stupid Mickey Mouse ties. I can’t even begin to figure how many times I’ve wanted to grab that goddamn cheesy-ass tie and pull until the gurgling stopped.

Oh wait, yes I can. Two years times fifty-two weeks times five days a week. Five-hundred and twenty homicidal impulses.

It started to get to me. Some people may be capable of performing menial tasks day in and day out, but I was meant for more. It built up inside me. This lack of challenge lead to frustration, which lead to confrontation and insubordination, and eventually, termination.

I tried to think of an appropriate way to say goodbye. I pretended to accept the decision and left the building without incident. I calmly made my way from surplus store to surplus store until I finally found a guy with special merchandise “in back” he was willing to sell me.

I had never handled a grenade before. My menial city-dwelling existence had never brought me into contact with any instrument of destruction more dangerous than the neatly-arranged butter knives in my silverware drawer. Nevertheless, my throw was perfect.

The explosion was beautiful. The ten or so people surrounding the conference table, including Mr. MBA himself, had just enough time to turn in my direction with confused looks on their stupid faces before being hurled toward the corners of the room as shards of razor-sharp shrapnel shredded their designer suits and the perfectly-tanned skin beneath. I watched as blood ran in rivulets slowly down the formerly-white wall now covered in globs of flesh, some with hair still attached. A single tooth was embedded in the now candy-striped surface near the door.

It seemed like an appropriate way to say goodbye.

Maybe next time I’ll just wave.