kickthestickz ~ the habit of pursuing happiness

chapter one

A particularly detailed drawing of a rocket ship was snatched off of PJ's desk by a stern Mr. Boss Man just as he was fixing the decal on the windows of the great ship.

"My office. now." He barked before marching his massive body through the cubicles' hallways, knocking over some papers as he did. It astounded PJ every day that he was able to perform this maneuver.

His eyes lingered on the cubicles for a second longer, imagining their sleek wooden desks and walls with pictures and a computer with a clean keyboard with a permanent coffee ring to the right of it, an empty mug placed elsewhere in the four walls.

He then glanced down at the fold-out, plastic white "desk" he had in front of him. In the corner of the spacious room, away from the other workers. At least the wall was mainly glass, so he was able to look out across the courtyard and see the skyline of Brighton, which was commonly cascaded in the dull light from the clouded sky.

The desk was covered in papers, the black tray piled with half a food of loose papers being the only permanent item on the desk apart from his weathered briefcase that reposed to his right. The pile seemed to never end.

PJ figured he'd given the Boss Man enough time to cram his fat, stout body back into his swivel chair and got up to pay him a friendly visit.

As he traveled down the aisles, he tried not to look into the cubicles in fear of being reminded of the perfect men's nine-to-five job lives with a wife ready with a big smile when they come home, dinner steaming on the table. "How was work, dear?" She'd ask, calling the kids downstairs for supper.

PJ shook his head, took his hands out of the pockets of his black slacks, and opened the wooden door, behind which certain doom impended.

"How's it hanging, Boss Man?" PJ asked nonchalantly, closing the door behind him, his hands lingering on the metal handle, waiting for an invitation to sit.

Boss Man had an oily fat face with four chins and delicate half-moon spectacles that slid down his oily hook nose, with thinning, dark hair—also oily. He was perched precariously on a black chair, hidden from sight, certainly suffocating and screaming for air.

He sighed. "I thought I told you not to call me that. Liguori," Boss Man said shortly. "Sit." And PJ obliged, preferring to sit in the chair closest to the door. If Boss Man started breathing fire like a dragon, PJ could make a quick escape. Carson, right. I always forget the real name. PJ thought, eyeing the nameplate on Boss Man's desk.

"I see you've been scribbling over your hard-working peers' papers again?"

"Oh, are we playing an observation game? I'd love to play. I see that your diet has failed, much like your scrappy marriage, according to the honeymoon picture, which miraculously moved to your bookshelf from your desk. Mr. Boss Man turned as red as a tomato.

"Why you little..." He said, before collecting himself. PJ figured he needed to keep his blood pressure down. "I'm sure you know why I called you in here- "

"Question," PJ interjected. "Should the green flavor of sweets be lime or sour apple?" Upon this comment, PJ remembered he had a small green hard candy in his pocket, unraveled the wrapper, and popped it into his mouth. "Lime. Speaking of my 'hard-working peers', have you ever taken into considering my hard work? It isn't easy creating masterpieces with wooden pencils and cheap printer paper, you know?"

"I've had it with your disrespect! If it weren't for your mother, you'd be out of here faster than you can come up with one of your stupid interjections! Liguori, you need to fix it before those extenuating circumstances wear out."

However, PJ wasn't listening. He was currently assessing this morning's cup of tea from his favorite cafe. Bland, he thought. Too weak. How hard was it to make a simple cup of black tea?

"Are you even listening?!" Boss Man yelled incredulously.

"Something about my mother and 'fixing it' I presume?" He mindlessly scratched the wooden armrest, furthering the intent he had been working on for over a year. "You've got it, Boss Man. My sincerest apologies, as usual. I will fix the problem." He recited, standing to leave and exiting before Boss Man could respond.

He kept his head down again walking through the aisles to the back of the naturally lit corner and sat down in his uncomfortable chair. One of his "punishments" was not being able to bring his own furniture to decorate his desk. He didn't want pictures of him and his dad at the place where he only had a job because the boss has a crush on PJ's mom— he deserves more than that.

For the last bit of the day, PJ actually sorted the papers into piles that were to be collected sometime after he left he felt bored yet productive, and was glad when his alarm went off at 5:00 to dismiss him and the other workers.

PJ was the first one out of the building. He took a deep breath of the fresh air before climbing into his car and driving home.

The flat building was fairly large and expensive for the monthly rent, but his job paid well, and he could afford it. Trudging through the hallways, ready to go to bed, he realized he didn't know many if any of his neighbors. All the doors were bland, and it reminded PJ of when he was back in college. At least then people often had their doors open for guests to come in and say hello.

At last, he came across his own door. Unlike the others, he added a whiteboard with a marker, upon which he had once scribbled his name in a green marker. He left the markers there, but no one ever drew anything. He knew if he still lived in a dorm that people would leave messages for him. They used to, at least.

The room was narrow and long. To the immediate right, the stretch of wall was brick, with the rest of the walls a cream color. A double bed barely fit longways at the very end of the room. Above it, a small light fixture dangled from the ceiling. The window at the end of the room was the only source of natural light, but it was a big window, and it filled the room with the dim light of the setting sun. Along the walls leading toward the end of the room, shelves littered the walls holding figurines from video games or movies, and a single dresser where more keepsakes reposed. On the right, two chairs folded into the wall with a small table standing between them. A full-length mirror with a metal frame leaned behind the chair closer to the door with a door to an ordinary bathroom to the left. Soft lamps in the room glowed different colors of green, blue, and red, cascading the room in a collage of color. PJ knew he could afford more with the job he had, but he enjoyed the cozy feeling his knickknacks and posters created in the room.

PJ threw his briefcase on the table and flopped on his bed. He sat up after a few minutes and decided to play Mario Kart on the TV directly in front of his bed. For dinner, he had simply ordered some pizza and played video games before feeling tired and finally falling asleep.