Zombicle: The Short Story

Sometimes, you just have to push away everything else and write a story. Clean the gears off, so to speak. Here’s the first shot at an opening of my “something cubicle this way comes” office psycho-horror story.

Clackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclack.
Ding.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrratch.

Clackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclack.
Ding.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrratch.

Clackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclack.
Ding.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrratch.

They were inevitable. The wars, I mean. That voice that’s just a bit too loud, coming from a speaker blissfully unaware of his invasive natural decibel level. That slight odor of onions mixed with perfume and French fries, wafting over cubicle walls. The incessant drop-ins from people you’d barely ever talked to before, now that you’re not hidden away, inaccessible and unknown on the third floor; people who just want to hang out. The neighbor who just refuses to buck up and buy herself a box of paper clips. The woman from sociology who thinks of it as a grand ethnography waiting to be written. The crotchety old chemistry professor who can barely contain his glee every time he drops in to remind us of how miserable we are. That shit copier that just won’t work. Ever. And the pacing, pacing, pacing. Oh, sweet and abiding Lord Jesus, the pacing…

After such a violent displacement, well, it was bound to happen, eventually.

Clackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclack.
Ding.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrratch.

Clackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclack.
Ding.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrratch.

Clackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclackclack.
Ding.
Rrrrrrrrrrrrratch.

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