Meet George

Part 1

George Harmond. Most would hear that name and quit listening at that moment. He wasn't the most liked or loved person on the planet. At his work, he was known as the weird. His family considered him a recluse and a little strange, so they loved him even more... at least that's what they acted like. Mr. Harmond was not the most interesting person when he was talking, but observing him was like watching a play you've never heard of because anything could happen at any time. He was not married or could not marry, for to be married, there has to be someone who finds you attractive either physically, emotionally, or both.
Another reason, probably the main reason, why many people found him oddly bizarre was his antics. He would hoop, holler, jump and run into things that weren't even there. His coworkers would watch him jump and climb to get to the parts of the office that held hidden treasures or he saw a pale white being with a long black silk cloak around the corner. When one day, his desk mate, had enough...
"Ivan, whatever you do, do not move your legs!"
"I swear to God George, if you tell me one more time that the little blue smurf is under my desk, I'm going beat you to next Tuesday"
"At least it'll be Taco Tuesday..."Ivan started quickly to rise from his seat.
"Don't get up! You'll startle him."
"I'll do more than startle him!" Ivan replied and began kicking the empty space under his desk. His foot, winding up and letting loose on the back of the desk, made a loud banging sound. The door to Michael's office flew open. The tall dark haired man with a long pointy nose that could be mistaken for fake, walked into the room. Yelling.
"Get off of the floor George and get that keister of yours in here!"
George, by this time on the ground beside his desk was looking to lead the little critter to safety from the terrible legs of Ivan. As he heard the demanding words leaving his bosses lips, his wide eyes peered over the edge of the desk to see Ivan and Michael staring daggers at him. He let out a sigh, slowly got up, and with his head bowed, walked into the office (that would change the course of this story).
"George we cannot keep going 'round and 'round like this. It has to stop. Today."
George nodded in agreement.  "I agree."
Michael leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk and said, "Then you understand that we have to let you go."
George's jaw dropped. He turned around and asked the wall, "Are you kidding? You're going to just allow this to happen?!"
Looking at the shaggy headed maroon in front of him, Michael began shaking his head.
"George, pack your things, it's time for you to leave. The wall isn't going to help you."
George whipped around so fast that it would make you feel like you just got caught stealing a cookie from the infamous cookie jar. "Do NOT tell me you just insulted the Grand Lord of the Earth!"
"You have thirty minutes, and not a second more. Security will be here to escort you out."
Over the course of the next half hour, George found and put his things into a box, one by one. He grabbed the "Best Office Manager" mug he had received from Sherry, mainly because he had no friends, and she felt sorry for him. He was no manager, but he loved the mug. He came across a photo of everyone huddled together during the Christmas party. Everyone was smiling and had their arms around each other, except for George. He was pointing in front of everyone's faces towards the upper left corner of the portrait. He was trying to save everyone from the Wyvern that was about to burn them all to a crisp. A smile started to creep on George's face as he remembered what he called the good times, and what his coworkers called the time they want to forget.
George began walking down the street away from the place that he loves but sadly did not love him back. He heard a swooshing sound, one like wings flapping, but much much larger. His cap, covering the shaggy hair that fell in front of his glasses, covered his eyes as he peered up to see a large lizard with huge winds on the edge of a building crying out to him. Almost like he was trying to talk to him...or threaten him. George sped up and began to run to the bus stop shouting, "Leave me alone! Go away! Find someone else!"
Many people looked at him in a strange way. They began walking faster to get away from the crazy man screaming and running down the block. George made it just in time to hop on a bus, as it began shutting the doors. He stood at the front and looked at the people sitting down. They had watched him run toward the bus yelling at the sky, secretly hoping that he would just run past them. Boy, were they wrong. He started slowly walking towards the back of the bus. As he sat down, the two ladies already there got up and quickly moved to the front of the bus. George looked out the window to see the shadow of the Wyvern following him for a few blocks. Then it seemed to disappear. Maybe he gave up the chase, George thought, or is he waiting for me to come back?
As the bus drove down West Richardson Street, George felt it begin to shake. He looked out the window down at the side of the bus, only to find, a tail?
"It's a freaking tail! The gremlins found something else to tear apart! The copier was one thing, but this has people on it!"
The thoughts ran through George's mind, and they met his lips to yell out, "STOP THE BUS!" The bus slammed to a halt as George got off the bus and got down near the tires. He stuck his arms and head up under the bus, yelling and clawing at the machinery. The passengers yelled at the driver telling him to drive off and leave the strange man. The driver told them that he would not be responsible for killing a man who was under his bus. Instead he got off and began talking to George, "Mister, get out from under my bus this instant"!
George pulled his head out and replied, "You don't understand, the gremlins are inside your bus tearing it apart! I have to get them out."
With George out of the way of the bus, the driver had an idea, "Oh no. Not Gramans."
"Gremlins" George corrected.
"'Xcuse me, Gremlins, I have a spray on the bus that will get them out.
As the driver walked back on the bus, George thought to himself, "you can't get rid of Gremlins with a spray it takes a special..."
Before he could finish his thought, the door slammed shut and the bus screeched back into traffic, leaving him alone on the sidewalk.
"Your funeral..."
George finished the trip to his apartment in the next half hour. He walked into his building and opened the door which revealed a small room which lead to a desk with a door leading to an elevator and stairs. At the desk sat a sleeping old woman who laid back in her chair with her mouth open with a mail Shute behind her. A fly was hovering around the old lady's hair and as she breathed in, was sucked down the trachea. As she exhaled, the fly was released into the carbon dioxide filled air. As it flew away this time, it slowly fell on the desk, never to move again.
"Your fly's down Harriet." George muttered as he walked by her to the stairs. The old creaky stairs haunted him...each step sounding like the cry

of old spirits that were buried long ago.
"Nope, nope, nope." He said, as he turned around to the elevator and hopped in. He pushed the 4th floor button and felt the jolt of it putting him up to his residence. The doors slid open and he walked out into the hallway, turned a corner and saw his number, 62398. He brought the key out of his pocket, fiddled looking for the right key, and dropped it. He muttered to himself what an idiot he was and picked up his key. As he stood up and faced the door, a long shadow swallowed his up. He gasped, took a few steps back and stood in shock. That was not his shadow...or anything he knew could think of that would make that kind of shadow. He hit the door and slammed it to open up his apartment. The dimly lit room swallowed the pictures of art and statues of his favorite characters from film.  
He walked in, took off his jacket, and hung it on the door knob of his closet. Walking over to the window, he peeled the curtains back to see if the Wyvern had certainly left him alone. Peering out, he released a sigh of a relief but then felt a chill run up his spine. The building began to shake and dust fell from the roof, as if someone or something was walking on top of the apartment.
Did the room suddenly get colder.... or had he turned down the thermostat by chance? No. He didn't remember touching it. A sense of darkness came over him, and he felt a presence he had all but forgotten. Refusing to turn around, he kept looking out side to see if the monster had arrived, knowing, of course, it was useless. George slowly turned around with his head down low, so he wouldn't have to look up at the creature.
A chilled yet deep voice said, "Georgie-boy..."
George raised his head and looked at the occupant who had appeared in his room.
"It's about time I found you."
The truth made itself known to George, the memories of this man.... of this angel returning although he had never forgotten them. Or else end the sentence at returning. and he had not known he had forgotten them. The name said everyday by almost every person in a compliment or threat, formed on his lips.
"Death"