The Nice Guy

Are You The Nice Guy?

"I think it'll be a year long rager from New Years to New Years. Straight puss three-hundred sixty days a year."

"You idiot, there are three-hundred sixty-five days in a year!"

"I gotta work at least one week in the office per year. Company policy!"

Bill suddenly perked up in his office chair, alongside the hairs on both arms and his right leg. He became nauseas, but only on the left side of his stomach. The last time heard those last two words he was nearly fired from Business Incorporated as a whole. 

"Woah there Bill, are you alright bro?"

"Yeah bro, I didn't realize you were so into the sheer concept of the year twenty-sixty-nine. We thought we were alone."

Bill slowly calmed down from his policy-driven PTSD and looked at his watch. His four minute lunch break was almost– it was time to return to his cubicle sweet cubicle. Bill rose from his chair and begrudgingly smiled at Chad and Biff. Stories below the window behind them, protesters lined the building. Inclusivity or something. He looked at his watch and saw that his four-minute lunch break was almost over. There were only two minutes and forty-three seconds until he had to be logged in and ready to incorporate business. 

Username: BillNysegui

Password: a11way$cum1a$t

The screen went black, only to return with the company logo. A depiction of the globe with exclusively the United States blinked onto the screen. Across it, and eagle carried a banner saying "Business Incorporated, where we incorporate business!" The work bell signaled and the break door slammed closed with Chad and Biff in it. One minute and one second (for suspense) later, the manager's door opened.

Every day after the lunch break, the manager came out, struggled with his horrible hair cut, and gave the same oh so inspirational speech. "Alright boys, let's incorporate some business!" His flock would cheer, and he would return to his office.

Instead, two bald people emerged from his office. One was wearing a knight's armor, but wielding a sort of club around their waist. Their skin was as orange as a carrot. The other was an identical twin of the first, but wore a pinstriped suit and had an odd flashlight around their neck. They scurried to the first cubicle they came to and asked,

"Are you the nice guy?"

"Well I think so but–"

 The man was cut off by a flash of light and footsteps to the next available cubicle.

"Are you the nice guy?"

"To you two, sure. To those apes on ground floor asking for equal–"

Another flash, more pitter and patter. They were a cubicle away from Bill now.

"Are you the nice guy?"

"You aren't with the union, are you?" I'd have to report you for–"

Bill rose from his desk with the speed of his company's rising stock. He took one bound toward the elevator and–

"Are you the nice guy?" the armored one asked an inch from Bill's left ear. He very slowly turned to the twins.

"My name is Bill Nysegui, which may sound like nice guy. What can I do for you?"

The twins exchanged a look of awe, wonder, amazement, and/or bewilderment.

"Come with us."

Bill attempted to finish his bound when the two locked arms with him and carried him to the door of the break room. The twin wielding the club clubbed the door down, revealing a  broken window and downed chairs. Bill missed that commotion somehow. The pinstriped twin unlocked his arm from Bill's and put their arm around Bill's shoulder.

"Nice Guy, have you ever wanted more out of life? More than a cubicle and an eagle for a mascot? More than a bunch of white dudes eating philly cheesesteaks four minutes at a time? Have you–"

The armored twin impatiently put his arm around Bill's other shoulder.

"You watched the Matrix right? We have the blue pill and there is no red pill. Your world ends in three days and–"

Bill took a step forward, then turned back around to face the twins.

"Did you just say the world was ending in three days?"

The twins paused, but the pinstriped one piped up to say, "Wait, I thought the red pill was the new world. You said we had the blue pill. Are you saying the Everypocalypse is more boring than this bleep hole?" 

"No, the blue pill was definitely the cool pill. Blue is a cool color, we learned this in clone school year zero you dumb bleep."

Bill lost it.

"Excuse me, you flashed at least three of my coworkers, broke a door and a window, and now the world is ending in three days? I want answers."

"You dumb bleep, you told him three days? It was three minutes!"

The chairs on the floor started to tremble and Bill's back suddenly became warm. He turned around to see a mushroom cloud building in the distance as the protesters below dropped their signs and swarmed the skyscraper for safety. The shockwave hit the building along with the dust of Business Incorporated's fallen skyscraper brethren. 

"No need to worry Nice Guy!" screamed the armored twin over the sound of a crumbling building, "Clone 127 here will time travel us to our destination!"

The pinstriped clone, not a twin apparently, look confused and infuriated.

"I'm Clone 129 you dumb bleep! I thought you were Clone 127!"

"If you're Clone 129, and I'm Clone 128, then we have no way home!"

Bill further lost it, screaming in no part due to the crumbling tower around him.

"Shut the fuck about your science fiction bullshit, get me out of this now!

The armored clone looked at Bill with an unnecessary amount of swagger.

"Right now?"

"Right fucking now."

The clones made eye contact briefly before once again locking arms with Bill. They simultaneously screamed, "Geronimo!"  before leaping out of what once was a window. Hurtling toward the pavement, the armored clone, Clone 128, pulled a devise from his helmet and stared at it with more intensity than Bill's manager had at the monthly spreadsheet. 

"You better pull with off!" yelled Clone 129 directly into Bill's ear. He assumed it was for Clone 128. 

As the pavement raced closer and closer, an abandoned sign popped out at Bill from the pile below. "INCORPORATE PEOPLE, NOT BUSINESS." Bill was taken away from the sign by Clone 128 belting out "For the kingdom!" before mashing the button on the devise. There was a flash of blue, nearly blinding light before they softly landed on a pile of dirt and wet cardboard unscathed.