Bored Out of My Mind - the Ramblings of a Cubicle Tenant
Yes, I'm at work and I'm freaking bored. Every two minutes I check and see if helpdesk tickets have come in or if I have a new e-mail, and the just wait for the phone to ring. In the meantime, however, I thought I would exercise my imagination just a little... or a little more than a little. This is just random stuff and not finished, so you either like it or you don't. I'll be adding more as time progresses... I think. Depends on if I get caught or not.
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Dear Reader,
I spent seventeen days on the African savannah. I was alone. I had enough energy pills to last me for a week, hoping by then that someone would see the trail of robot-ostrich feathers I had laid down, leading up to the entrance of the damp, dark cave that I was inhabiting. My only source of oil came from the back of the cave, guarded by a mighty herd of three-hundred twenty-four vicious man-eating-fruit bats. As you probably know, the ripest man-eating-fruit is found in dark caves on the Dark Continent, and it was a wonder to behold. As for the bats, the females fed on the blood of men, but I was no man.
I waited in silence, huddling in the cave as flocks of cheetahs and schools of crocodiles made their way before the mouth of my temporary residence, their snouts waving to and fro in order to catch a whiff of their next source of sustenance. Three times one of those great brutes headed towards the rock formation… and that was only the first week. I was lucky.
But when the gears began to rust from the damp and disuse, the challenge of remaining concealed grew exponentially. Seeing the nocturnal four-clawed frog-lemur pack winding lazily across the feathers, my first instinct was to run to the back of the cave. As soon as I was extending my right leg towards my retreat, the joint holding my knee creaked mightily, alerting these night demons, who advanced en masse towards their prey. I may be a cyborg-chemist, but I can still feel pain, and the thought of those titanium claws ripping through my pseudo-skin left a cold feeling in the pit of my esophagus.
With all haste, I raced further and further into the cave. The frog-lemur is a speedy predator, though, and I soon found myself outpaced. Knowing that I would have to face them or face my maker, I reached into my left forearm and removed the blade that had been implanted into my radius during the operation. The pain was excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the hurt that I put on those creatures.
Slashing and dicing, I danced around the cave. In the scope of my night vision, metal flashed upon metal time and time again, ad nauseum, ad infinitum! Little paws came at me from all directions, far too closely reminding me of the Chinchilla wars of ’38. As I dodged and parried, I whipped my blade madly about, caught up in the frenzy of battle, hacking away at the mutant mamphibians. Over the course of an hour, I managed to reduce their numbers substantially until they were forced to realize with whom they were dealing and retreated in an organized, timely manner. To say that it was one of the most satisfying moments of my life would not be overstated. I took the claws that were left behind and melted them in a fire in the center of the cave, forming them into a necklace and bracelet set that I will be bringing home to my wife and daughter.
At the end of the first week, I had run out of food. The man-eating fruit left a bitter taste in my mouth that I simply could not and would not stomach, so I was forced to make a net out of twisted banana leaves in order to catch the bats with whom I was becoming acquainted. It felt wrong to betray their trust, but in the wild African savannah, one must do what one can in order to survive. By then I had almost given up hope of being rescued. During a flash flood, the robot-ostrich feathers had been washed away, leaving no trace that they had ever even been there. My chances were becoming even more slim.
Mid-way into the second week, I caught my first break. The flash-flood had carried with it a number of desert pearls and a small toolbox. I felt a moment of remorse for the poor family who had lost these valuables – and quite possibly their whole house – in the flood, but without any way to return them without risking my life and the security of those items, I took it upon myself to be grateful for this blessing. A caravan of merchant tree-gnomes was making its way across the plain and I was able to barter with them. Ten of the pearls bought me enough energy pills for another week. As they headed through the brush and out of sight, I was thankful to at least have some small hope for survival. The two remaining desert pearls I set into the necklace and bracelet set, using the finely crafted tools with which I had been entrusted.
On the fifteenth day, I spotted an airplane.
On the sixteenth day, I contracted a virus which kept me cave-bound for the better part of the day. I will spare you the details, except to say that the source of the rapidus bowlus virus could possibly come from prolonged proximity to tainted bat meat. I will be investigating this find on my return journey in three years. I will be much better equipped to handle the harsh conditions and I am certain that cell service will become available to that part of the world before I go.
On the day of my rescue, I had been battling a snapping turtle for drinking rights at the local watering hole. Before we could conclude our grand dispute, a white stallion appeared and drove the turtle back into the rocks from whence it came. Shortly after, I discovered that the stallion was, in fact, a shape-shifter. After returning to a human form, it addressed me by name, knowing that I had been missing since I fell off of the hovercar and damaged my homing beacon. He lit a fire and signaled to the other airships that I had been found, much to my surprise. Who knew that an entire fleet could be so quiet!
After I stepped foot on the airship, I was dipped in a cleansing grease-bath, detoxifying my injuries and refreshing my senses. I was then shown to quarters and allowed to record my memories of all of the events that had transpired.
I am fortunate to be alive and writing to you. I’m sure I will see my wife and daughter shortly and will send you pictures as soon as I can.
With love,
Darrel, v. 2.7.3b
