Finkle, Out of Sorts - Chapter 5
Turning off the water, Alan stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel. He dried the majority of his body before wrapping it around his waist and walking to his bedroom. He got dressed in a daze, pulling a pair of pants from the closet, a shirt from a drawer. He walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of orange juice. He didn’t really want it but he sipped it anyways. He poured more than half of it down the sink and grabbed his messenger bag and keys. He trudged down the stairs and hailed a cab. On the way to work, he fidgeted with his keys. He paid the cabbie and made his way into the building. He stepped into the elevator and listened to a song that could put anyone to sleep.
Finkle moved swiftly behind the traitor but she turned to face him, all three evil eyes staring sharply at him. K’larr laughed, pressing the weapon harder against Armstrong’s temple.
“Did you really think that you would be able to stop me?” She laughed as she spoke, effortlessly in control. “You can’t do anything on your own.”
Finkle looked from K’larr to Armstrong and wondered where the courage that filled his chest a minute ago went. He had acted, he never acted before, and now he was once again frozen to the spot where he stood, unable to move. Armstrong’s eyes looked serious but scared and he spoke.
“Finkle! Please!” Armstrong sounded almost frantic as he stared at his second in command.
Finkle snapped out of his daydream to find the elevator at his floor and Blake standing in front of the doors, an arm out to make sure it wouldn’t close. Finkle stepped onto the office floor and rubbed his ear wondering how these thought kept becoming more and more vivid. He looked at Blake who seemed anxious to see him.
“Finkle! We need to talk. The new client wants a bunch of changes and wants things rushed,” Blake said, speaking quickly. He obviously had been caffeinated for a while.
“What kinds of changes?” Alan groaned inwardly, wondering what kinds of things these clients would want now.
“There’s a list, I left it with your assistant.” Blake smiled nervously. “It’ll be fine. I’ll see you at the afternoon meeting?”
Blake walked away, leaving Alan alone as soon as he had found him. He walked to his office and nodded at his assistant, Marla, who handed him the list of specifications for the client. He shut the door behind him and sat at his desk, powering his computer up. He sat and waited for it to boot up and he thought of how he would best tackle the things that needed to be changed.
A tentacle slithered over the edge of his desk and reached out for him. Alan moved his arm away and backed away from the desk. His tentacled mother seemed to float on top of the desk and closer to him, her breath noxious.
“Poor, poor Alan. Trying to do everything and yet doing nothing as always. Couldn’t save your friend before, could you?” She hissed at him.
Alan felt himself cornered as she inched closer and he felt the room grow smaller and smaller. He was nose to nose with this creature that birthed him and wondered if these were his final moments. Isn’t that when men were supposed to prove themselves? He stared into his mother’s cold, slippery eyes as a tentacle grazed his cheek and knew what he had to do.
