The Door

Mission #1

Arthur William Crenshaw, scratched his roughly unshaven beard. His salt and pepper hairs stood in a bedraggled mayhem of a complete discomposure.
His squinting eyes gently adjusting to his brown thick framed lenses. Their inefficient attempt to properly cling to his nose, thwarted by the sweat induced sliding of their awkward journey.

Unshowered and sweating profusely, he sat outside his boss' office.

The name plate "C. J. Higgins" shined in golden letters upon the office door.

His boss was a sneering banshee of a terribly inappropriate disposition. His legion of shiny overpriced sports cars stamped there glimmer fixedly upon him. In the formidable shape of dollar signs they fashioned the insincere, disrespectful caution of a paranoid crook. A shiester divulged on the sole premises of attaining wealth at any cost.

His pension for embezzling, cheating, and swindling was well known in the business.

He was broad shouldered, tall, thin, and people knew not to muffle amidst his clever smooth talk.

Mr. Crenshaw took a drag off the cigarette tightly gripped between his stressed pointer and middle fingers. His despondent fretfulness cracked in an extended shaking of each beating of his nervous heartbeat. Its twitching signifying an extreme agitation. A malaise shorted by the roughage of a defined worrying.

Its soiled mortality drumming outwards the appended meeting that he was about to curtail.

For he intended to facilitate his stressful situation as quickly as humanly possible.

He had been cheating on his wife.

An auburn haired beauty with golden highlights. Her fair complexion stunningly embellishing her face upon bright blue eyes. Piercingly gorgeous, they exentuated the firm, physique of an impending ritual of makeup-driven mystique. She was the secretary at the front desk. The crowned jewel of many men's accomplishments, she now belittled them in the heightened advancing of her higher paid job position.

Suddenly, time ceased its hushed breath into a dismal chiming of a droning outward trill. Frozen in place, a horrid necrosis ate away at the hands of each clock that ticked its usual impending of forward, throttled motion. An extreme garish of floating colors pixelated the cloned palette of human blues and grays. Encircling the shadowed allegiance of skeletal hands that modestly swiped away at Mr. Crenshaws befouled union of bodily parts. Each appendage replaced with the body of the bores heaping monstrosity of a colossal engagement. Its machine slid comfortably into place, stunting the natural order of flailing tyranny in the wake of a normal humanity. A smile appeared on the exterior of the machines engulfing theater of a false face projecting.

The office switched to a lightning infused forward momentum. Bucking and seizing, the aligning straight of an average business day.

Accountants clicked away at double loaded paper discharging calculators. Salesman drank black coffee and conversed their appalling gossip. The cause of a striking daily formality sang into a casual earthly commotion.

A pack of cigarettes laid half crushed beside the leg of the "new" Mr. Crenshaw. Gently grabbing it, he bolstered a new one between his fingers and lit it slowly. Exhaling the toxic paradise into the air, he smiled at the secretary sitting out in the distance.

His lavish, other worldly charms, engaging smoothly by a synthetic hide. Stapled of machine parts and organically cloned replacements, the bores mission had now just begun.