The Guy with one leg
The guy with one leg flicked open his eyes and gasped, greedily sucking in lungfulls of the dusty, stale air around him. He was in pain, rather a lot of pain by his standards, and he couldn’t remember why. With a look of strained confusion, he propped himself up, slouching against the wall and let out a long, staggered sigh. Why him? The question stung his brain, and his leg even more. He sighed again, blinked three times and surveyed his ex-office.
The room itself was quite small, completely trashed and too grey for its own good. The wallpaper had faded to grey, the grey carpet was covered in grey dust, and sheets of paper that belonged in the ‘out’ basket were scattered everywhere. However, it was once an extremely tidy room. The kind of fresh, neat, room where a chronically OCD person would feel right at home. Not, anymore.
The guy with one leg shuddered, he most certainly did not feel right at home, he had always detested mess, and kept his office spick and span… especially the ‘out’ box. He coughed the dust from his throat and craned his neck forwards to investigate the dull pain in his knee. Sprawled in front of him were his two feet, side by side. He stared at them, and slowly but surely an odd sensation washed over him, the occult sense that something about his feet, was very, very wrong... No! It couldn’t be!
Unfortunately for the guy with one leg – it could. What he had first thought of as his left foot was not a foot at all; it was just a black stapler that looked a bit like a shoe. His leg, all the way up to his knee, was gone.
You see, the guy with one leg had once had two. Just yesterday he was a smart and serious accountant. “Accounting - is - brilliant. It should really be considered an art – in my opinion. It’s by far the neatest of occupations.” He retorted.
“You are sooooo wrong! Its by far the most boring!” Jake mumbled through a yawn. The smart accountant with two legs walked over to the pristine desk and placed another folder carefully into the ‘out’ box.
“There, doesn’t that fill you with any sense of achievement?”
“No.”
“Come now, you were very helpful. And that company could be bankrupt if we hadn’t sorted that out.”
“So?”
“Jake!”
“Neil!”
Neil the accountant with two legs sighed. Why him? Why did he have to be burdened with an insubordinate, grungy, greasy haired work experience kid? He sniffed, and sprayed the air three times with his handy pocket air freshener.
“Right. It is currently, seven minutes to four. And since you are getting on my nerves you can go home early.”
“Yesss! Finally!” Jake jumped from his black leather chair and hurled his backpack over one shoulder. Jake hated Neil’s office, with its grey walls and single grey window. It seemed to him that it was specifically designed to drain your will to live. Jake grinned, there was only two more days of work experience left, and he could feel a cold coming on. If only he could convince his mum it was flu, this would be the last time he would be burdened by Neil and his numbers.
Neil grinned, Jake was off home, he had his freshly cleaned office all to himself, and his out box was full. He leaned back in his leather chair, blinked three times and surveyed his office. All the paperwork was neatly sorted; the pens and pencils were safely stored in separate drawers. Neil could even see his reflection in the dark wood of his desk. He was in his thirties, with rounded cheeks and an odd, button chin. He was clean-shaven – obviously – always removed his shoes indoors and wore horn-rimmed glasses he didn’t really need, just because he always had. Neil was a creature of habit, and speaking of habit, it was time for his cup of tea. One and a half sugars, 5 ml of milk (skimmed).
Just as Neil reached for the milk there was a huge crash as Jake bounded back into the room, slamming the door behind him. Neil screamed.
“What on earth do you think you are doing!? Trying to give me a heart attack?” He demanded. “Listen, if you want to come back in – Get out, and knock!”
Jake shook his head and pressed his back tightly against the door.
“I’m serious!” Neil’s voice was quivering with frustration. “Go back out, and knock!” It was no use, Jake had a fixed look of terror on his face.
“There… are… ssmss…” He hissed.
“I’m sorry?”
“Ssmb-es!”
“Ssmb-es?”
“…ZOMBIES!” Jake explained, then tightly shut his eyes – the look of terror still fixed to his face.
“Wait. You think, there are zombies… outside?”
“No, I know there are zombies outside!”
“Right,” Neil said dubiously. “And when you say zombies, you mean?”
“You know! …Zombies! Dead people walking! Brain eating corpses! Ravenous members of the un-dead! …Flesh eating, Putrid smelling, evil, murderous, ZOMBIES!”
Jake was breathing heavily, and had quite obviously gone insane.
“Listen, Jake, there is no such thing as zombies. Trust me!”
“I have seen them!”
“No. You think you’ve seen them.” Neil explained with an agonizing calm. “What you’ve actually seen is something similar to zombies, like Goths on drugs.”
“Goths on drugs don’t crave human brains!”
“Well, not all of them.”
“Neil! I’m telling you there is a zombie apocalypse happening RIGHT NOW!” Jake screamed, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
“You know I know you’re lying? Right?”
“Go and look for yourself then!” Jake said, nodding towards the window hidden by the grey blinds.
“Fine. But, I promise you now… I will not be proved wrong.”
When Neil drew back the blinds three things happened:
Firstly, he was proved wrong. Second, the door burst open - knocking over Jake as a fat, snarling zombie tumbled into the room. And Third, Neil Fainted.
The guy with one leg flicked open his eyes and gasped, greedily sucking in lungfulls of the dusty, stale air around him. He was in pain, rather a lot of pain by his standards, and he couldn’t remember why. With a look of strained confusion, he propped himself up, slouching against the wall and let out a long, staggered sigh. Why him? The question stung his brain, and his leg even more. He sighed again, blinked three times and surveyed his ex-office.
The room itself was quite small, completely trashed and too grey for its own good. The wallpaper had faded to grey, the grey carpet was covered in grey dust, and sheets of paper that belonged in the ‘out’ basket were scattered everywhere. However, it was once an extremely tidy room. The kind of fresh, neat, room where a chronically OCD person would feel right at home. Not, anymore.
The guy with one leg shuddered, he most certainly did not feel right at home, he had always detested mess, and kept his office spick and span… especially the ‘out’ box. He coughed the dust from his throat and craned his neck forwards to investigate the dull pain in his knee. Sprawled in front of him were his two feet, side by side. He stared at them, and slowly but surely an odd sensation washed over him, the occult sense that something about his feet, was very, very wrong... No! It couldn’t be!
Unfortunately for the guy with one leg – it could. What he had first thought of as his left foot was not a foot at all; it was just a black stapler that looked a bit like a shoe. His leg, all the way up to his knee, was gone.
You see, the guy with one leg had once had two. Just yesterday he was a smart and serious accountant. “Accounting - is - brilliant. It should really be considered an art – in my opinion. It’s by far the neatest of occupations.” He retorted.
“You are sooooo wrong! Its by far the most boring!” Jake mumbled through a yawn. The smart accountant with two legs walked over to the pristine desk and placed another folder carefully into the ‘out’ box.
“There, doesn’t that fill you with any sense of achievement?”
“No.”
“Come now, you were very helpful. And that company could be bankrupt if we hadn’t sorted that out.”
“So?”
“Jake!”
“Neil!”
Neil the accountant with two legs sighed. Why him? Why did he have to be burdened with an insubordinate, grungy, greasy haired work experience kid? He sniffed, and sprayed the air three times with his handy pocket air freshener.
“Right. It is currently, seven minutes to four. And since you are getting on my nerves you can go home early.”
“Yesss! Finally!” Jake jumped from his black leather chair and hurled his backpack over one shoulder. Jake hated Neil’s office, with its grey walls and single grey window. It seemed to him that it was specifically designed to drain your will to live. Jake grinned, there was only two more days of work experience left, and he could feel a cold coming on. If only he could convince his mum it was flu, this would be the last time he would be burdened by Neil and his numbers.
Neil grinned, Jake was off home, he had his freshly cleaned office all to himself, and his out box was full. He leaned back in his leather chair, blinked three times and surveyed his office. All the paperwork was neatly sorted; the pens and pencils were safely stored in separate drawers. Neil could even see his reflection in the dark wood of his desk. He was in his thirties, with rounded cheeks and an odd, button chin. He was clean-shaven – obviously – always removed his shoes indoors and wore horn-rimmed glasses he didn’t really need, just because he always had. Neil was a creature of habit, and speaking of habit, it was time for his cup of tea. One and a half sugars, 5 ml of milk (skimmed).
Just as Neil reached for the milk there was a huge crash as Jake bounded back into the room, slamming the door behind him. Neil screamed.
“What on earth do you think you are doing!? Trying to give me a heart attack?” He demanded. “Listen, if you want to come back in – Get out, and knock!”
Jake shook his head and pressed his back tightly against the door.
“I’m serious!” Neil’s voice was quivering with frustration. “Go back out, and knock!” It was no use, Jake had a fixed look of terror on his face.
“There… are… ssmss…” He hissed.
“I’m sorry?”
“Ssmb-es!”
“Ssmb-es?”
“…ZOMBIES!” Jake explained, then tightly shut his eyes – the look of terror still fixed to his face.
“Wait. You think, there are zombies… outside?”
“No, I know there are zombies outside!”
“Right,” Neil said dubiously. “And when you say zombies, you mean?”
“You know! …Zombies! Dead people walking! Brain eating corpses! Ravenous members of the un-dead! …Flesh eating, Putrid smelling, evil, murderous, ZOMBIES!”
Jake was breathing heavily, and had quite obviously gone insane.
“Listen, Jake, there is no such thing as zombies. Trust me!”
“I have seen them!”
“No. You think you’ve seen them.” Neil explained with an agonizing calm. “What you’ve actually seen is something similar to zombies, like Goths on drugs.”
“Goths on drugs don’t crave human brains!”
“Well, not all of them.”
“Neil! I’m telling you there is a zombie apocalypse happening RIGHT NOW!” Jake screamed, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
“You know I know you’re lying? Right?”
“Go and look for yourself then!” Jake said, nodding towards the window hidden by the grey blinds.
“Fine. But, I promise you now… I will not be proved wrong.”
When Neil drew back the blinds three things happened:
Firstly, he was proved wrong. Second, the door burst open - knocking over Jake as a fat, snarling zombie tumbled into the room. And Third, Neil Fainted.
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