The Trouble Inside

You've been hired

At ten in the morning, Thomas laid at his desk, passed out from a night of drinking and nostalgia. An empty bottle laid loosely in his unconscious hand. His head rested uncomfortably on his old high school year book. There was a knock at his front door. Thomas groaned. The knocking continued. Thomas slowly lifted his head off the table, struggling to regain consciousness. The knocking grew louder. "Jesus Christ, calm down! I'm coming, damn it!" Thomas yelled at the visitor. He slowly arose to his feet. He looked around his apartment, slightly bewildered. He took a pause to regain his bearings. His head was swimming, he felt nauseated. He rubbed his sleep deprived eyes, then slowly staggered to the door, dragging his feet like an alcoholic zombie. He flung the door open. There at the door stood Edward Skylar, an old friend. "Welcome to the land of the living, Tommy," Skylar greeted.
"Land of the living? No. If you're here I obviously died and you're the demon come to collect me for hell. And its Tom you prick." Thomas said snarky.

Skylar shook his head. Then he took a sniff, "For fucks sake, Tom! It's ten in the morning and you reek of a Brewery! And look at you! When was the last time you showered? Or shaved? You smell like a skunk crawled into a bear's ass and died."

"Fuck you Skylar, you pretentious snob. I don't need you to tell me how to live my life. Thanks for the hygiene concerns, mom. Why are you even here?"

Skylar rubbed his left eyebrow with his index finger and his middle finger. Then he stopped and looked sternly at Tom, "I feel bad for you. Once a Great War hero, icon too many, now a burned out alcoholic living in a cut-rate apartment. I'm here to offer you a job for my company."

Tom took a step back and crossed his arms, "Thanks but I don't need your welfare. I'm doing just fine," he barked back.

"The hell you are. I know you're unemployed and you're pension is drying up, you're barely getting by as it is. Just hear me out, okay?" Skylar opened the brown leather messenger bag he had strewn across is shoulder. He pulled out a manila folder and handed it to Tom. "It's you're dossier. It's basically a statement letter describing the position you'll occupy. Pays well, well enough for a better apartment and name brand booze, health benefits, and a well-built 401k. It's in your area of expertise, and I figure it'd give you a reason to wake up and shower in the morning. Just mull it over, okay?"

Tom stood at the doorway. He slowly opened the folder and pandered through the files inside.

"I also figure it'd give you a task to occupy your mind from..... You know.... The visions." Skylar added.

Tom sharply closed the folder and aggressively looked up at Skylar, "You shut your mouth" he commanded. Skylar passively threw up his hands, "Hey I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. I just, uh, I heard. Reports. I know how that could be." Tom took a step back inside, shaking his head, "No... no you couldn't possibly know how that is," Tom said slowly.

An awkward silence fell over the two. Skylar was at a loss for words and Tom stared blankly at the ground. Skylar stepped forward to Tom, "Just give this a chance, okay? If you decide you want to join, show up tomorrow here," Skylar pulled out a business card from his chest suit pocket, "If you decide to come, please shower and shave." Skylar stood for a moment, surveying Tom's reaction. It was still blank. "Listen, I have to go. Please think about my offer. It was good seeing you again, Tom." Skylar said softly.

"Yeah, sure..." Tom replied sarcastically. Tom closed the door and walked into his living room, file in hand.

For moments Tom sat there, motionless, staring at the folder that currently rests on his cluttered coffee table. For a brief moment he sat on the couch, kneading the 5 o'clock shadow he had growing with his right hand. He cleared his throat, then reached for the file. He opened it. On the first page, written in bold, blue letters 'You've been hired, should you accept....'

You've been hired. Tom pondered over that phrase. 'How ridiculous. How cartoony. I didn't realize this was the 1950's secret spy type crap. Should I choose to accept...What a joke!' Tom thought to himself. He flipped past that page and continued reading. He eventually reached the last page. Tom closed the folder and tossed it back on the coffee table. He sat for a moment, deciphering the information. He thought about the job. Then he thought about Skylar.

Skylar...

To think I went to school with the douche. Sophomore year. Half of basic. Now look at him, I wouldn't even spit in his direction.

Skylar had the bravado of a pretty boy. He showed up at Tom's in a three piece suit, his hair slicked back. Sunglasses with lenses as dark as night. And that arrogant, cocky smile. Hands softer than an infants and a skin complextion more fair then a computer nerd who's only interaction with the sun was it being animated on a computer screen. He had a pretentious, know-it-all attitude about him. Overall, his whole demeanor made Tom nauseous.

Tom got up from the couch and walked to the bathroom. He stopped and peered into the mirror. He observed every feature of his face in the mirror. His tired, sunken eyes with dark circles around them. His pale skin. He was a silhouette of his former self. He turned on the faucet from the sink and splashed water in his face. He looked back up into the mirror. The phrase still echoed in his mind, You've been hired.