The Employee

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


The Employee

 

This is my desk with my coffee mug and my dashboard hula girl. I believe in cycling to work. It’s good for me and it's good for the environment. I also don’t smoke, drink or socialize, these are all distractions from what matters in life. Your job. Your magnum opus. At my desk, I update customer and account information. I establish entry priorities. I am constantly on the lookout for data deficiencies that might hinder the company I work for. I have a manager who is slovenly and hits on the receptionist. His pay is double mine and his workload is less than half, but that’s not why I want his job. I want it because I deserve it.

I’m not far from getting that job. I have my boss where I want him. In my bedroom closet. Not the actual boss but I suppose what you would call a representation.

Last night I cooked him a pork tenderloin with Dijon marsala sauce. Today he asked me into his office to let me know what good work I was producing.

I get home about 7 pm, by the time I stop to pick up all the necessary groceries. I also stopped off at Harrods to pick up a bottle of Tom Ford Noir de Noir and a new Brioni suit. I go straight to the closet and dress the adult-sized carved statue in his new suit, spritz some Tom Ford on the pulse points and strap him to the chair at the dining table. I’ve recently had problems with the leg hinge pins.

I put on my new purple and black satin dress and cook the most delicious rosemary braised lamb shank with vegetables and a glass of Albarino wine. After the meal I place his right wooden hand on my breast, I act flirtatious but not slutty.

I remove his hand from my breast and blushing I say ‘not so fast Mr. Cramshaw.’

I know my boss’s determined nature and he really wouldn’t act so coy. I have to make sure he acts as he would in reality otherwise it won’t work. I place the wooden hand on my breast again and I push it until it hurts. I try to rip the hand off of me but I’m making sure he’s holding on like a pit bull. I am getting anxious about this encounter, so I give myself one last jerk away from him and in a mad rush, I slap the wooden statue across the painted face rubbing off a bit of his right eyebrow. Mr.Cramshaw sits on the chair, his dangling wooden arm swings gently like a pendulum that's nearly lost all its momentum. The face is always painted with an arrogant half-smile, but now I can see a different gaze in that painted on face. A gaze that reflects my own irritation and self-loathing. I crawl to him pleading with my eyes. Don't fire me, don't fire me don't fire me. It's all I know to say. I slip his pants off gently, a sharp jagged piece of wood slides into the side of my joint on my index finger. It bleeds and it hurts, and Mr. Cramshaw grabs my wrist and twists it towards his cold wooden chest. I imagine the knock-knocking sound his wooden heart makes, the same sound the pizza delivery man makes at my door every Saturday night. I beg Mr. Cramshaw to let go, my wrist is at breaking point. His eyes reflect my own. Tearful and confused. Alone and desperate. I hate to see that look of weakness and self-pity. I make him snap my wrist. CRACK! I scream with ecstasy and pain. I really can feel. My heart is not wood Mr. Cramshaw! I yell at him pulling myself away from him with my working hand. The limp wooden figure slumps over headfirst into the rosemary braised lamb. The tuft of glued hair resting on the edge of the plate.

 

 The next morning, I enter the office afraid of what effect last night might have had. I fear the worst. Fired. Exiled from my cubicle. But there is no effect. The boss greets me as usual, raising his coffee cup in the air with a smirk. I wave at him with my bandaged arm. I am the dead worm in the cocoon that never grew its wings.


Submitted: May 17, 2021

© Copyright 2021 chaosmagik. All rights reserved.

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Comments

AdamCarlton

This is really good - brimming with energy. I believe some Japanese firms have effigies of the boss in the foyer that employees can assault...

Mon, May 17th, 2021 7:18pm

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