The Typical Insanity

S U C K E R P U N C H

I'm in my car. I can't remember how I got here or why I was here, shouldn't I be at work? I check the time on the dashboard and watch the green digital numbers flicker to 12:51. I'm late, I'm never late but today I am. Why am I late? I look outside and attempt to figure out where I am, there's a street sign that reads 'Central Park'. What am I doing here?

I brush off these thoughts as I get my car started and begin driving towards work which is surprisingly not far from here, what was I doing a block away from work? I feel like I'm in autopilot as I maneuver through the dwindling traffic and my head starts to throb for some reason. Maybe I should start drinking coffee, or maybe something like the expresso that keeps Stanley jittering all day. Stanley 'Just call me Stan' Parable is my boss and the executive director for the company I work for.

I couldn't tell you what the company actually does even if I wanted to. One day I'm filing reports for a lawsuit against a faulty Carburetor issued by us and the next day I'm shredding accounts of a retrieval of some obscure parts for some obscure project. I think the only constant throughout my working hours is my faithful gameplay of Solitaire. I'm not terribly good at it but I keep trying anyway, it's just something to do.

I turn into faculty parking lot and exit the car, locking my car behind me. I rush into my respective department and notice that it's oddly quiet. I shouldn't say oddly, it's almost always this quiet because nothing happens here except for the break times but there's something about the constant clicking on a keyboard and hushed murmurs of gossip that always feels like an uproar. I look around and notice how everyone's standing and huddled around a person who seems to be giving a speech of sorts. I move closer and begin to make out bits and parts of his words.

"....a great man... he'll forever be remembered..."

Did someone leave? It happens quite rarely but I doubt we usually make such a big fuss about it. I've barely made it halfway across the room before someone's voice calls me.

"Oi, you!'

I turn uncertainly towards the voice, it's not often that someone decides to acknowledge me and when they do, it's not often for a good reason.

"Uh, um, yes?"

"Do you have any idea what time it is?! What do you think this is? Grand Central Station, where you're free to just walk in and out as you please?" I realise Stanley 'Just call me Stan' Parable is talking to me.

"Um, no, sir. I, I was held up that's all." I can't believe I'm lying to my boss. But well, what else could I say if even I didn't know the truth myself?

He narrows his beady eyes and says no more, turning back to the gathering around him. I join the crowd in hopes to shake off the stares from my coworkers. They stop staring once they realise I'm not going to do anything other than stand and stare blankly in front of me, the same thing they would soon turn and resume doing. Once he knows the attention has shifted back to him, Stanley 'Just call me Stan' Parable continues speaking.

"As I was saying, Francis Edwards was the foundation of this corporation, he built the backbone of this enterprise and laid the bricks for our yellow brick road."

Wow, I never knew Stanley 'Just call me Stan' Parable was such a poet, he sure had a way with words. I realised he's just being overdramatic and that I am being sarcastic.

"Official reports state that his death was an accident but authorities have yet to completely rule out foul play due to the mysterious circumstances surrounding the incident."

A lady standing beside me whispers to her friend. "How could it be just an accident? I heard that the window he supposedly fell off was like, pretty high, you can't just like, accidently fall off something like that. And you know my friend Jean, right? Well, she said that his head was bashed in like, really bad and that those type of injuries can't just be caused by falling out a window."