Desserted World

Sir Atlas, The Bored

  Atlas threw a muffin. He cursed his mortal form. He was an all powerful being- and an all powerful being did not belong in a flimsy shell of fragile flesh. "I CURSE THIS MORTAL FORM!!!" he screeched, throwing another defenseless muffin at the concrete walls that confined him. Dreary days... He only intended to observe the humans and their world. He never imagined it would become his prison. He was a wizard. Famous. Renowned. Beloved. Feared. But now? Now he worked in a second rate bakery, a slave to his yammering bosses and cretinous co-workers. He cursed their names. Save one- But she didn't count. He ought to have been worshiped as a god- But humans were sick with paranoia, and what once made him great would surely be his downfall in this world of skeptics. He threw his arms above his head and fell to his knees, crying to the cold, unfeeling ceiling fans: "I'M SO BORED!!!!!!!"

  It was a Monday. Because that's when the worst things tend to happen. Uncharacteristic of a Monday afternoon, the shop was empty. The only two other people manning the building were somewhere else- 'Probably having sex-' he thought 'because nothing in this world is remotely fair.' In a contemptuous act of rebellion, he brought his fist down upon a most beautiful strawberry cake, it was sinfully encrusted with chocolate shavings and seductively frosted- vanilla flavoured. He smirked at the ruined masterpiece.
"Hey Atlas???"
He jumped and snapped his fingers... All his perfect damage was reversed. In walked his co-workers, Leilah and Horace. Horace was a young man with what Atlas considered to be a horrid beard. It stuck out in all directions, and his hair was slicked back in the most anal way one could comprehend. Atlas imagined it might be stuck to his skull by now. Horace was tall, stocky, fair, and not nearly as attractive as himself, so how Leilah took any interest in the fool was beyond his own understanding. Leilah kept her wiry black hair in two relaxed buns atop her head, her bangs fell just above her pale green, almond shaped eyes and a tattoo of a snake coiled around, and around, and around her left forearm. From what he had seen of human behaviour, he deduced that she was not the usual type to work in a place such as this. But he wasn't complaining. Leilah tapped her foot impatiently and repeated herself with an air of exasperation: "Hey ATLAS-" He smiled slowly and said "Yuh huh?" She rolled her eyes, grinning in that god-awful way she always did, the way that made him want to rupture all of Horace's internal organs with a single look, burn his body and take her away and-

  Ahem.
  Anyway.
 
  "How's the traffic?" He shuffled his feet, and blew a strand of chestnut brown hair out of his eyes. They were brown as well. Horace had blue eyes- Horace had a 'dashing personality'- Horace had manly eyelashes, whatever the hell that meant. That's what Leilah claimed. Not the brightest thing she ever said, but that was okay. He had concluded that love made most humans quite stupid, even the smart ones. Atlas was quite the opposite of Horace, but he liked it that way. He had never much cared for Horace. "Nobody seems terribly gluttonous today- Perhaps people have come to their senses and realized that there's more to do than indulge their confectionery lust-" Leilah shook her head, "Let them lust, it pays the bills." She walked to her station and began her routine- Pies and ice cream seemed to be her specialty, and there were no peach pies quite like hers. He imagined that as sweet as they were, sweeter still might be she and her undoubtedly lovely-

  Ahem.
  But that didn't matter.
 
  Because as Atlas had become painfully aware: Horace the cake man had a grip on her heart. God knows why that was.
Horace glowered at his strawberry cake of sin, "Hey Atlas- Did you touch this?" Atlas gulped and glanced at the cake, no no no no it was PERFECT- What was he on about? He lazily waved off his comment and drawled: "Pshhhhh- I've got enough of my own work to do, if that was you asking for my help- Which I can understand, cuz I am pretty fantastic." Horace leaned down and adjusted a strawberry. "If you say so- But I don't need your help, thanks anyway." Atlas smiled wryly and continued kneading the dough in front of him. 'I'm so damn bored.'
 
  Later that day:

  Closing time was fast approaching (cue the celebratory dancing), but Atlas had long ago finished his work for the day, and mopping was becoming a useless task, as everything was already clean. The sun was low in the sky, and the August evening air seemed to laugh mischievously, tousling the hair of passersby, stealing their sun hats, and gently tossing them to and fro. He trudged past the counter, lightly dragging his fingers across the white marble surface. He paused. He glanced sideways, down his nose at a slice of chocolate cake. He smiled. He had a most terrific idea.