Lilac Blossoms of the Magnificent Parallax [D&G]

It’s past noon and I’m late for a lunch date when all of a sudden my boss, Mr. Sloane, drops a large cardboard box full of invoices on my desk. “We need these shredded right away Baxter,” he says. I wonder what all the urgency is about. Then I take a look inside.

“I’ll have them gone within the hour, boss.”

“Oh, there’s more than just that one box,” he replies, and then shuffles out the door and down the hall to find more invoices. I get to work with the shredder.

SLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICCCEEE!

That’s the sound it makes as it shreds the invoices to oblivion, one by one. You see, we have to shred these documents today because they involve hundreds of mortgages our finance company acquired for pennies on the dollar from distressed banks all over the country. After today, we foreclose on the mortgages, and in doing so stand to make hundreds of millions of dollars. Oh yeah, and one other thing: it was all Mr. Sloane’s idea. He’s a genius. He even claimed once that he was Alexander the Great in a past life and I believe him, because he’s gonna make us all rich soon.

Of course, not all of the people who own these homes are actually late on their payments, but that doesn’t matter in the big scheme of things. Mr. Sloane says there are two kinds of people: bottom feeders and apex predators. We, the rich and the successful, are the apex predators, and you can probably guess who occupies the lower end of the food chain. Of course, if anyone found out we were foreclosing on homeowners that were current on their payments it could be a huge problem - we could all go to jail for a long time, but right now the shredder and I are taking care of all that. No worries.

And that’s how the real world works, kids. Too bad if it doesn’t work for you.

WHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

The fire alarm rings just as Mr. Sloane walks in with another box of invoices, and I pause momentarily. “What are stopping for, Baxter? I’m meeting the board in an hour and by then I need everything destroyed.”

Leaning past him, I cast my eyes down the hallway, taking note of all the other employees hurriedly making their way to the exits. “Shouldn’t we...”

“Forget it Baxter, it’s probably a drill. Here, shred these while I get the last box.” He heads back down the hall as I feed another set of invoices into the hungry machine. Probably just a drill, I think. Mr. Sloane is usually right about these things. Did I tell you he’s a genius?

SSSSCCCCRRRUUNCHHHH!!!!

Turning off the shredder, I lean forward and peer into the feeder, trying to locate the source of the paper-jam. Then a sudden, unexpected tremor shakes the building. Odd, I think, because we don’t have a lot of seismic activity in Manhattan. The fire alarm continues to blare, but before long I’ve fixed the paper-jam and the shredder is back in business, slicing away at the loose ends that need to be erased before the deal goes through. Then I hear the rumble: the cacophony of hundreds of footsteps making their way through the stairwell - the chaotic symphony of evacuation. Out of curiosity, I step to the stairwell door and peer inside.

I find it very strange that everyone is running up the stairs, instead of down. Why would they be heading toward the roof? Shrugging my shoulders, I step away and walk to the outside window, and what I see next is absolutely beyond belief.

Six stories below, on the pavement, people are running about the street in panic. Even worse is what they are running from: I can see dozens of pale, eight-foot tall creatures hopping about. They look like giant, whitish-purple toads from hell. Only these toads walk on two legs and have glistening, razor sharp teeth. I know the teeth are razor sharp because each time one of the devil-toads manages to get close to a human its tongue flicks outward and back, snatching the poor victim into its hideous jaws with an audible slurp! followed by a sickening chomp! at which point the victim is bitten in half. I can hear all this from where I stand on the seventh floor, and the sound is gruesome to the point of nauseating. Even worse, the devil-toads continue to devour what’s left of the victims - some are even regurgitating the half-digested bodies so they can eat them again. Time to get to the roof, I decide for myself. No additional motivation needed.

“Baxter, where the hell are you going?” my boss says while cradling a cardboard box in his arms. “We have three more boxes of invoices to finish. This is go time! No lunch for you.” Another tremor happens, and the lights flicker a bit.

“We really need to get out of here,” I say with a hint if urgency, and step toward the stairwell.

“Dammit, then,” Mr. Sloane says, dropping the box onto the carpet. He heads to the elevators. “Follow me.”

“Sir, evacuation procedure says to use the stairwells...”

“We’re not wasting time with the stairs, Baxter! If you want to get ahead in this world, you’ve got to take the initiative...” Just then the elevator doors open:

SLLLLUUUUUUURPP!

CHOMP!

A devil-toad bites him in half, and then lets loose a horrible, loud, monstrous croak. My feet spring to action, but before scampering into the stairwell I grab an office chair, which I then prop against the door handle on the other side. I hope it holds, and up the stairs I go with the rest of the terrified evacuees.

Exiting onto the roof, I see the sky has turned completely dark. Roiling black clouds churn above, and tremors continue to shake the city and our building. I make my way to the edge and look over, horrified. The devil toads are climbing up the sides of the building, inching closer toward the screaming crowd of terrified humans that surround me. All across the city, people are standing on the rooftops, waving their arms to signal a plane, or a helicopter, or anyone who might be able to help. Suddenly, one of them is snatched away by a ghoulish, black shape. Thousands of bat-like creature swarm across the skies, picking their victims from the rooftops at will.


Gazing higher into the sky, I notice the black clouds beginning to form a vortex - a tunnel of some kind, above which shines through a hellish, red glow. More tremors follow, and far below the streets are collapsing, taking with them cars, people, and anything unlucky enough to be down there. Soon entire buildings are swallowed up, and some of the screams of horror on our rooftop turn to desperate pleas of forgiveness. Amid the chaos, a momentary flash of reason springs into my consciousness. So this is how it all ends. I guess today is as good a day as any, given the depravity to which the human race has descended. If God is doing this, I can’t say I blame him. I think I understand.

Before I can finish my thought, a hellbat sinks its claws into my shoulders and carries me off into the sky. Far above, circling inside the hellish red vortex, I see other flying creatures - winged humanoid forms with tails. Are they demons, or angels? I’ll never know, because the hellbat releases me and I topple backward, screaming, into the endless black void - as the world rips apart.

Nice creative effort.
Kudos to you.

reply to post by QueSeraSera


Thanks for reading it!

Hmm no matter which way you look at it, bankers are always going to be turds, chewed up digested piles of poo.
thank you for letting me read it,i had a good laugh

reply to post by Flatwoods


Where, oh WHERE are the Ghostbusters when we need em' !!!!!!!

That was both funny and imaginative.

A Star And a Flag from me !!

Originally posted by SonoftheSun
reply to post by Flatwoods

 

Where, oh WHERE are the Ghostbusters when we need em' !!!!!!!

That was both funny and imaginative.

A Star And a Flag from me !!

If this story elicited even the slightest hint of a smile or grin, I've accomplished my goal. Thanks!

reply to post by Flatwoods


OH M G !!!!




Man, those are some nasty critters! Loved it, loved it.