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All is Well |
| Written by Thomas Laroque | |
| Thursday, 07 February 2008 | |
and citizens of the United States of America must go along with society. I’m sorry to say that you must accept this fact.” An old man sat at his desk smoking a Marlboro cigarette. His shoes knocked loudly against the top of his desk. “But…but…I don’t deserve this. What have I done? I’ve done nothing!” “Yes, you’ve done nothing. Nothing at all. That’s why I’m firing you.” “But I did everything. I filed all the documents. I’ve supervised the colleagues; I’ve given instructions to new coworkers. I’ve made all your appointments. I’ve run and kept track of the technological systems. All of these year long!” The boss turned his chair around, facing his back towards the young man. He appeared to be resting his chin on the palm of his hand. The evening sun showered red shadows on the side of his cheek, as he seemed deep in thought. The young man’s words didn’t appear to stir him. “I’m sorry. Leave this building at once.” The old gentleman said as he puffed out another intoxicating cloud of smoke. He heard the footsteps as they walked fast at first, then slower and slower. Then they moved faster again until the swinging of the door could be heard.The old company manager finally turned his head around. He scanned the room and then resumed to his normal position, ready to start work again.His office was tightly decorated with Victorian styled furniture, all yellow over time since he began using this office. All Victorian except the fact that there was no carpet. He looked around the cramped room, and then resumed to his desk. He picked up a small letter from underneath the piles of papers that littered the dark wooden surface. He let out of long sigh as he began to open it with his short pocketknife. “I wonder what complaint it is this time,” he muttered to himself. After slicing the last inch of sealed paper, he pulled out the letter: Dear Brother, Since the course of events linked to your actions, I have become concerned with your behavior. In the past six months, it appears that you have been on a firing spree, currently firing almost all of your council members and more than half of your employees. The situation seems a little too suspicious to me. Your company was in great shape and had plenty of income to pay the employees twice as much more than their usual salary. Yet your sudden and compulsive action has caused not only many people, but yourself to suffer from the losses. Being a company president myself, I will be willing to give you advice and to hear your standing of this situation. If possible, send this mail back to me along with hours in which I may come to your assistance. I’ll see you then, Matt. Your brother, Jacob Lanswell. “Bah. Rubbish!” Matt crumbled the letter in the palm of his rough, wrinkled hand and threw it into the trashcan. “Who’d be stupid enough to ask help from a brother with the same occupation? He just wants my money, doesn’t he.” He roamed around the room and occasionally brushed against the side of his desk, causing the glass of wine to begin to rattle against the hard surface. "Or maybe...maybe he wishes me to join forces with his business so that it would benefit to his advantage," Matt placed both of his hands on his cheeks and shook his head in horror. He paced back to the side of his desk, again brushing against it. The glass of wine rattled once more, this time slightly twirling in tiny circles. "No. I musn't fall prey to his evil enticements. What I do with my employees is all according to my will." He rubbed his hand against his unshaven chin, deep in thought, when he brushed against the desk again, this time actually bumping into it. The glass shook more violently. He ran his fingers through his hair and the veins in his red face tightened and pulled under the skin. The glass of wine twirled more rapidly and just as Matt passed by the desk again, it tipped of the edge and splashed red liquid onto his snow-white suit. "Arghhh!" He screeched in frusturation. With a swift motion, he snatched up the glass and stared into it. Through the tension in his rough fingers, the glass smashed into both broad and small pieces that slashed through his skin.
"How dare he interfere," his hand shook as blood dripped through the gaps of his fingers. Copyright 2008 Thomas Laroque |
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