Applebound - Prologue

I stuck out my hand.  It was covered in dirt and some sort of black tar, making my fingernails look like they had been decked out in some sort of Gothic-looking nail polish.  I wasn't Gothic, and I sure as hell wasn't made of dirt--not yet, anyways.

My hand dangled dirtily in front of the Suit's chest, so close that I could have reached into it and pulled out his heart like that Tribal Lunatic did in the Indiana Jones movie.  But I wasn't a Tribal Lunatic, nor did I want to get blood on my already filthy hand.  Not with heart blood.  Besides, I hadn't come here to make a sacrifice--not of anyone else, at least.  No, I was here to lay it all down, to attempt the ultimate feat of human capability, ready to give up my dignity, my energy and blood.  Not heart blood though.

Yes, you heard correctly.  I had come to get a job.

The Suit finally took my hand into his after a not-so-brief look of contempt and shook it, attempting to conceal his frown behind his moustache.  It didn’t work.  He might as well have tried hiding it under the hair on his head, but he didn’t have any.  I smiled confidently despite his blatant revulsion, and when his eyes fell on mine they softened a little.

“It’s nice to finally put the face to the voice, Mr. Collier,” he said, letting go of my hand and wiping what came off it on the side of his pinstriped business suit, “I trust you have an adequate explanation for the twigs in your hair and oil on your fingers, but that is irrelevant to what we’re here to discuss.  You did make the interview, after all, and it’d be a shame to turn you away with a résumé like yours.  Let’s go to my office.”

So I followed, trying not to stagger into the filing cabinets and trying to forget my dishevelled appearance existed.  I didn’t have an adequate explanation for the twigs in my hair (which I frantically felt for and plucked out behind the Suit) or the oil on my fingers.  I had been drinking cheap malt liquor all morning.  And with copious amounts of malt liquor, my memory tends to develop more holes than my oldest pair of Levi`s.  I only really remember chasing a cat through my neighbour’s backyard.  At least, what I thought was a cat.  I came to under the apple tree in the orchard a couple streets down--a popular spot that appealed to my subconscious even in its deepest state of inebriation, when my consciousness said ‘Aw, f**k it,’ and handed the wheel over.  I don’t know why I woke up there so often... I don’t even like apples.

The Suit pulled open a door to a room eternally brightened by the far wall which wasn’t actually a wall but a glass window.  Beyond it stretched the cityscape, dominated by bottle-shaped skyscrapers and other tall buildings dotting the horizon like uneven teeth on concrete gums.  Before stepping foot into the office I glanced at the nametag beside the door:

Earl Andrzejewski

This was good news as I had forgotten the man’s full name--I knew it ended with an ‘i’, though.  Perhaps luck was on my side after all.  Earl walked behind his desk, motioned for me to sit in the chair opposite him and then sat down himself.  Hoping my breath didn’t hint of liquor and that my speech was performing at regular capacity, I gingerly placed myself into the seat that smelled suspiciously of IKEA.  I opened my mouth to speak.

“Mr. Andizjuicy--“

S**t.  Luck was on my side, alright, and it came in the form of beer tongue.  I stopped immediately, gave myself a millisecond to regain my composure and tried again.

“Mr. Andizjukey--“

S**T.  This interview was going down faster than an alcoholic on payday.  Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard an umpire shout, Steeerrrike!  I looked at the Suit like I was a deer in the headlights--I had simply not seen this coming!  What a s****y last name!

“Mr.  Andzrisooky...”

“Just call me, Earl, Mr. Collier.”

I nodded quickly, no longer willing to let my mouth ruin this for me.  Earl shuffled through some papers on his desk and retrieved what I assumed was my résumé.  He looked up at me with a formal grin, one that only interviewers can give even if they despise you as a human being, and then returned his gaze to the words he held in his hands.

“I must say, Mr. Collier, this you got here,” he nodded towards the résumé with wide, exaggerated eyes as if I didn’t know what he was talking about, “is very impressive.  Your extensive experience as a CGA is quite appealing... you’ve been accounting for six years, correct?”

“The first two years in financial auditing, yeah.”

“Splendid,” the bald man in pinstripes said as his eyes scanned the paper, not really seeing but buying time to think of another standard question that I would have to answer, “It says here the last job you had was over a year and a half ago... why is that?”

I saw him look at my hands briefly--hands that looked accustomed to rooting around in dumpsters for the remnants of Japa Wok boxes and burnt toaster strudels--before returning his gaze to me with those same unseeing eyes.  I felt his condescendence, a feeling I still didn’t enjoy even to this day, and took a breath before telling the story.  I probably still sounded drunk.  Or smelled like it.

“Well, I had an accident,” I said, albeit slowly and with extra emphasis on pronouncing each syllable. “It was nearin the Christmas holidays, and I was scramblin like a mouse so I could get outta there.  I was doing some filing, putting the docs up on the shelves with the help of a ladder--a big one, yeah.  Up, down, up, down, like a bullet.  Didn’t notice the ladder wasn’t fully extended, so as I was uppin and downin the damn thing closed on itself and toppled like a Jenga tower.  I was on the up so I went down.  My leg got caught between rungs, and when I hit the floor--”

“Oh no,” Earl interrupted in a whisper, “you broke it upon impact?”

“Nah.  When I hit the floor I was bruised, twisted up in a ladder, and a little pissed off,” I smiled, revelling in the Suit’s momentary confusion, “It was the force of me landin that brought it all down--the filing boxes, yeah.  At first just one fell, the one that was halfway onto the shelf when the ladder collapsed, but I had been rushin so there were a couple more that weren’t too secure, and they fell too.  That’s what broke my leg... and pelvis.

“To make things worse, I was in charge of lockin up that night and happened to be the last one in the office.  It was a couple hours of swearin and screamin before a janitor came along and freed me up.  I was in rough shape, Earl, had internal bleedin and everything.   Had to go to the hospital to get x-rayed, then immediately into surgery so they could screw some bolts into the remains of my pelvis.  I was outta there before I could ask for morphine.

“The holidays were fantastic that year.  Or so I’m told.  I spent a couple weeks in a painkiller haze...  can’t even remember Christmas dinner or shoutin ‘happy New Year!’ when the ball dropped.  It wasn’t much longer ‘til the effect of the drugs decreased and the pain increased.  Since that happened I’ve basically been”--(drinking, I’ve been drinking)--“holdin out for some sort of miracle, but that doesn’t seem to be coming anytime soon.  Any of this answer your question, Mr. A?”

The bald, pinstriped human being sitting across from me looked slightly caught off guard; his mouth opened and closed several times like a fish in a tank.  He looked down at nothing in particular, then back at me, somewhat apologizing with his eyes that he was speechless.  As they usually were.

Except the bald, pinstriped human being sitting across from me only looked sorry because of his next question: “It does and doesn’t, Mr. Collier.  I would like to know why you’re here looking for another job if you’re still in so much pain.”

Each word acted as a steel fist to my intestinal tract; my stomach twisted into a knot.  I had dreaded this, thinking maybe my sob story would’ve scared him off from going further.  The answer was simple but impossible to say: I was supposed to continue receiving disability, but because of my habits I was spending too much of the government’s money too fast and was being suspended indefinitely.  Consequently, I needed a job.  I needed money.  And more importantly, I needed alcohol.

 

I must’ve still had a twig or two in my hair, or maybe I had spat on him when I was talking and he happened to be someone who didn’t like being spit on and therefore didn’t feel as guilty probing a temporary cripple.  I had met my demise by FILING BOXES, damnit!  What kind of soulless human was I dealing with here?  My stomach kept twisting, but now it felt more physical than it did metaphorical.  I realized the light reflecting off the Suit’s forehead burnt my eyes, and his eyes burnt my forehead.  This wasn’t good.

No, this wasn’t good at all.

“Well...” I tried to reply, but anxiety had crawled into my throat like bugs.  My mouth was drier than a homemade martini.  My hands shook.  The synapses in my brain fired like cannonballs to let my body know that it was in sudden, undeniable pain.  I felt nauseous.  Oh, so nauseous.  My skin turned cold and hot at the same time, and it was the moment the first orb of liquor-scented sweat graced my forehead that I decided to stand up.

The next five seconds were a blur of horrendous cinematic quality, as if watching a bootleg version of that Matrix movie where everything goes in slow motion.  I remember standing up, but it was too quickly.  I remember the desert of my mouth being graced with water again, but not the good kind.  I remember the confused and continued stare of my interviewer even as I vomited on his head and fancy pinstripe suit that screamed ‘I’m a fashionable professional,’ but now screamed ‘I’m covered in puke.’  If only he had been as good as that guy in the Matrix.

I began walking out of the room even before he had started yelling, no longer sweating or shaking.  Maybe it was because I threw up, or maybe it was because my body already knew where I was heading.  I glanced at the nametag again before heading towards the elevator:

Earl Andrzejewski

I knew it ended with an ‘i.’

Author's Note

A story bordering on comedy and tragedy I started writing a little while ago... I really like the possibilities of this, so let me know what you think. There is more than this currently but I like where this ends off.

Reviews

[Angel Bird]

Terrific writing style. I would so like to go on reading now! The way you make your main character think and act is hilarious and funny. You so easily play with the readers imagination. You spiced it with just enough detail to make the whole imagery perfectly work. Your writing skills are absolutely fabulous and I so hope that there is much more to come.

[Taylor H.]

So I followed, trying not to stagger into the filing cabinets and trying to forget my dishevelled ----disheveled

I only really remember chasing a cat through my neighbour’s backyard. ---neighbor's

exaggerated eyes as if I didn’t know what he was talking about, “is very impressive. ---no comma after about


When I hit the floor I was bruised, twisted up in a ladder, and a little pissed off,” I smiled, revelling ---reveling



other than that...great job. I really enjoyed reading it

I laughed when the narrator pronounced the name "Mr. Andizjuicy"
and I laughed even harder when he vomited all over Andrzejewski, the guy who's name ends with an "i".
I'm a sucker for detail and getting into a character's mind. and I like the comical failures of this Mr. Collier.

You're right, it's my kind of story. I dig it.

[Bubo]

Really strong opening..........I was drawn in right away, your character is strong, has a problem and yet the underlying humour carries the story well, making you feel for this guy, descriptions and dialogue are excellent, and I look forward to more to see how he gets on! Loved the ending, really did.

[Doreen]

You have a unique writing style and a sound voice. I'm not sure if I like the protagonist yet. So far, he seems to be a bit of a jerk. I guess time will tell.

[Kelsie Eileen Stark]

This is amazing, I would love to read more of this...I like how you mix comedy and tragedy, almost like Shakespear. Great, great job.

[Lilly]

I very much enjoyed this newer version - more details are given as to the situation of your main character. At first I found myself thinking that in parts the dialogue was too long but now I think it is quite relevant and effective in many ways. Glad to see the humour (that I think is among the key engaging features of this piece) is still included...
Great writing - keep me posted, I'll read more.

[.]

loved it! The narration was superb, their was a comedic element and an empathy with this hapless individual..this sounds like the start of a really interesting book..not sure if that was your intention but it has all the elements for a really great novella!

[Elizabeth]

I really like where this is going and where you chose to end this piece. The character is already so well developed. His voice is clear and you did such a great job of making his thoughts flow effortlessly with the rest of the story. A well crafted narrative is hard to accomplish, and you did it. I want to know how he came to be in such a state :)

[Nova]

LOL :]
This is great. Wonderful detail. You used first person well to convey the funniness in this piece.
I really liked it. Thank you so much for sharing.

[Miss Coral]

Love the voice in this- I can't really think to describe it. In some ways, it's almost witty confusion. Either way, it's genuine, and it's entertaining. :)

Overall, I really liked the story- great plot, great character development... I do hope that you expand on this, but more out of wanting to read another installment than this story needing more to it.

Great write!
:)

-Coral-