Bad Business
"You're fired," not the first words you'd like to hear on a Monday morning, but honestly it was far from the worst sacking Desmond had so far.
Calm, take a few deep breathes, and let it out. The young man thought to himself as he sat in a squeaky fold out chair in the back office of the, now apparently, previous work place. The tiny room was lined with shelves overflowing with piles of paperwork, order forms and miscellaneous office paperwork from so long ago the pages had turned yellow. It smelt of cheap orange aerosol, mostly to hide the stench of mildew and body odor from the owner of said office. Just breathing the air stung his nose, not that it helped with the breathing exercises.
"Can I ask why?" He finally asked, given himself enough of a pause to not immediately curse out loud.
The man sitting across the plain office table in the relatively more comfortable swivel chair glanced briefly at the pale face looking back at him, before returning his attention back to his computer. Mr. Flemming often did this, kept trying to pretend to be busy with "work" while in his office. If only he knew the glass from the picture frame behind him showed a reflection of exactly what he was doing. Apparently he wasn't that very good at Minesweeper.
"Sales are down so far this quarter that the regional manager has been asking why." Mr. Flemming reached for his lunch, scattering crumbs all around as he took a bite from his Double BigWac. After chewing on it for a bit he looked back across at where Desmond sat, a frown on his eyebrows. "Now, why is that?"
Desmond bit down hard on any snip at how it really wasn't his fault...They were just accidents.
"You seem like a decent guy Desmond, but I can't have a clutz spilling coffee all over my customers. Third degree burns are bad for business, I hope you understand that. You're just lucky none decided to sue."
Lead weights sunk even deeper in the man's stomach, for no matter how much he wanted to protest and claim he was innocent, there was no denying he had accidentally hurt people. There was only so much you could blame on slippery floors or chair legs catching your foot.
"I'll give you your severance pay until the end of the week," Mr. Flemming pushed an envelope across the desk next to the other papers, "Best of luck in your next job."
Desmond felt numb as he picked up his papers and left the tiny back office behind, the smell of freshly ground coffee and sounds of the café greeted his senses on the other side. Normally Des would enjoy the atmosphere, of people chatting or reading in a corner while they relaxed, the many different aromas of mocha, chai, and espresso. Or even just the warm glow of the lights of a coffee shop in the evening, as if such a place offered shelter from the downpour that was happening outside.
It hadn't been that long since he had started working here, but with how much had enjoyed it more than most of the previous jobs it would be something he'd miss. Pale green eyes started to itch and Desmond knew it was best that he leave now, before I make a show of it.
A few people had turned their heads as the tallish man had entered, but after seeing who it was they lost interest and resumed what they had been doing before. The only farewell was one of the girls behind the counter smiling weakly at Des with a tiny wave.
I think her name was Beth? She had been friendlier than most, even after I had kept messing up. He mimicked her smile and wave and quickly moved through the doors.
What greeted Desmond outside was a typical late autumn evening in Vancouver, biting cold air and a torrent of rain. At least the weather matched how I feel at the moment.
A short buzz rumbled in his jeans, alerting Des to a new message. Please, don't let it be from who I think it is...
Taking a second while he was still under the protection of the store's awning to pull out the used Samsung, it was an older model and cracked in many places, but it still did the job.
Turns out it was exactly what he had imagined, as the text message simply read "Payment is due soon. Don't miss it. Find something else or you're done." Desmond involuntary swallowed as he read the message over again. How did they know?
Looking up he spotted a black Cadillac parked across the street, the windows tinted, but with the drivers side rolled down enough to see the man behind the wheel. He waved in Desmond's direction with a phone in hand, before he rolled his window back up and sped off down the street. Desmond shivered at the realization that they were still keeping tabs on him.
Man, I don't think this day can get worse...
Taking another second he plugged in his headphones and started listening to A-ha. At least Manhattan Skylines matches my mood for the moment. I'll have to figure out a new job before the end of the month. Christmas season is coming soon, so there should be a lot of places looking for bodies to fill spots behind a cash register...
Along the way to the bus stop Des's luck didn't improve much, as a passing car plowed through a deep enough puddle to send a wave crashing over the curb, completely soaking his lower half with gutter spray. "C'mon! Really?!" An irate wet Desmond shouted after the driver. A few passerbys snickered at his overreaction.
Feeling the heat rising in his cheeks Des hurried along further to the bus stop. His pace wasn't quite fast enough to catch one of busses as it pulled away before he could get there.
With a tired sigh Des sat down inside the tiny shelter and folded his umbrella. He sat there for minutes, or maybe hours, just staring out from the little island of dryness. Dim emerald eyes watched the busy street slowly drain of all the traffic, the lights in some shops flickering off one by one as they closed for the night. Soon it felt like it was just himself and him alone in that tiny bubble of the world. The next bus sure is taking its time.
But he wasn't alone for long, Desmond saw some movement out of the corner of his eye and watched as an elderly man shuffle under the small bus shelter. At first he had thought it was his imagination, but as he looked at the other man further Des noticed more than a few things wrong with his appearance.
His long coat seemed to be made up of a patchwork of different clothes, different splotches of colour mixed with different materials. His umbrella was much the same, with parts missing or bent in an unnatural way. Even as Desmond thought this the man seemed to struggle getting the ruined thing closed. Then he saw his face.
It was like looking at several portraits at once; his mustache was missing half of itself on one side, with the remaining bit sprung upwards like Salvador Dali's. Thick bushy white eyebrows seemed to bounce around as the man continued to struggle with his umbrella. His tanned skin was blotch and molted in with what looked like birth marks pot marking his face. A wispy goatee dangled from his chin and even seemed to curl around at the end. Even his hair was in disarray as it spiked and knotted in odd places, as if he had once wore an afro and it had fallen apart. To top it all off his eyes were quite yellow, like his liver was failing, but the man made no indication that he was ever in pain.
With a huff the man eventually gave up his attempts to put the useless umbrella back together and eventually decided to just toss it in the bin... Which for an old man was quite impressive since he threw it like a spear into the bin across the road.
Des huddled further into his corner of the shelter and made a silent prayer that he didn't get mugged again.
It was only then that the stranger seemed to notice that he wasn't alone. "Oh, how rude of me!" He slapped his forehead with a wet sleeve, "I should have asked if this place was occupied! Hope you don't mind an old man like myself taking shelter from the rain for a bit?" The 'friendly' grin he gave showed a dentist's worst nightmare, with yellowed teeth crooked at every angle. Even an overgrown canine sprouted from his upper lip.
"NO! Um, s-sorry I meant n-no, go ahead..." Des cringed as he forced himself to meet the elderly man face to face. He unsettled the young man more than anyone he had ever met before, as if the man carried 'wrongness' with him. It was hard to explain, but the fight or flight instant in the back of Des's mind was going off the walls being near the man. Please let the bus come right now, please.
With an exaggerated pirouette, with the coat flapping about spraying water in every direction, the man sat himself down on the other side of the bench. With a start Desmond felt the bench rise slightly beneath me, but it didn't go more than a few inches. I could have sworn this bench was bolted to the ground...
For a few minutes more it passed just like this, the stranger would do something odd or unsettling and Desmond would keep to his corner hoping to be as small as possible. Evidently it didn't matter how much he kept to himself, as the man soon found his attention back to where Desmond sat. He stared so hard Desmond thought it would burn a hole in his head. "Well?"
It took a second to register that he was being talked to, so of course it took another second to realize that he had already answered back. "W-well, w-what?" Not the politest answer, but Desmond didn't know where this was going... Please don't stab me or kidnap me, I don't want my kidneys taken from me.
The stranger just laughed, a good hearty laugh like had just heard the best joke of his life. Des didn't like where this was going, and if it wasn't for his legs refusing to budge he'd have ran for it already.
The laughter died down and the man spoke to me again, "Aren't you going to ask?"
"W-what do you want?" Des stammered, his throat feeling dryer than the desert, "I-Ive got nothing of value."
"Oh, I don't know about that, but then again I don't know a great many number of things!" a Cheshire grin split the sea of yellow teeth again, "That's what makes it so interesting."
"I-I've got only enough change for the bus ride, if you want it you can have it!"
At this the creepy man seemed rather bored, "I don't want your chump change, they taste awful anyways. No, I want something more, hmm, intangible."
I knew it... He was going to take my organs! If only I had taken an Uber instead! Sweat dripped down his forehead as Desmond backed up further, pressing himself against the plexiglass side panel of the bus stop. He reached into his pocket and gripped a little rosary tightly. He wasn't really Catholic, but it gave him a little comfort. "P-please, don't hurt me!"
"Hmm, I think you're mistaken, I don't hurt beings for my amusement, that's someone else's schtick," the man huffed as if offended. "No, I get my kicks from watching other kinds of drama, B-rate RomComs at the moment, but that can change." He shrugged his shoulders, moving back his side of the bench, it was only then did Des realize how close the lunatic had gotten without him noticing. He had been mere inches from my face with his yellow eyes staring through me...
"...Then what?"
The man looked a little perplexed, as if he had just realized he didn't know either, "I really don't know? Hard to say which way the wind blows; it's a fickle thing, hard to pin down really. And trust me, I've tried to, there's just no amount of thumb tacs that'll do the job!" The grin returned to his face as he bounced up and down on his side of the bench.
I'm dealing with a madman... Or maybe an addict, hard to say.
"The only thing I'm addicted to is chaos, you humans can keep your pathetic poisons." Did...Did he just read my mind?
"Nope, I get into people's heads, but reading them can be quite hard. Too gray and squishy for my liking." The man hummed as he reached into a pocket and started eating... Something. "No, you just said that part out loud my lanky bipedal chum."
"Oh... Umm, I'm sorry?" A nervous laugh left Desmond's lips as he sheepishly grinned back.
"No, you're not, but I'll forgive you, this time. To make it up, why don't you tell me what's been eating at you for the past while." The strange man took another bite from his... wax doll? It looked like one of those Mexican Day of the Dead sugar skulls, except it was a whole doll. Maybe he just enjoys other people's discomfort?
It took a moment of deliberation, but Des eventually decided what the harm could be in telling this stranger his problems, it wasn't like he knew him or would ever see him again, so what was the harm?
"Well, I've just been having a bad day," the man stopped his meal and looked rather unimpressed at that explanation, "Okay, maybe more than just a bad day, more like a bad decade."
"It's not like I'm saying nothing's my fault, I won't run from that, but... it just feels like I've never had any decent amount of luck in my life. As if I was destined to have the worst luck imaginable. It's hard to explain, and I probably sound like a whiny looser for it. But, I just can't shake this feeling, like something keeps placing me in these kinds of situations.... Sorry if I sound boring."
The man had evidently finished his 'meal', with a thoughtful expression he rubbed his spindly goatee. "That's hardly anything to worry about, lots of people have bad luck or live worst lives than yourself. You could be in a lot worst spots imaginable, trust me kiddo, I've seen the darkest pits things can pop out from."
This stranger, who looks like a mish mash of Salvation Army clothing sewn together had a point, it could be worse.
"I suppose you're right, but now I'm out of a job and soon to be out of a home. Again. Except this time if I can't pay up the money I owe to the mafia I'm dead meat, literally if they decide to sell my organs..."
A sputtering sound came from the man opposite Desmond, as he spat out what looked like chocolate milk like a morbid fountain statue, some even reached Des's side. The younger man stared in shock and disgust as he quickly tried to wipe some of it off.
"HOLY MOLLY! How did you manage to get balls deep in the blender like that?! Everyone knows not to take money from El Capone unless they can pay it back!" He sounded halfway impressed as he laughed in Des's face once more.
Des was starting to get used to the absurdity of the man well enough that he could start feeling anger and frustration instead of terror. The familiar burning returned as the heat began rising to Desmond's cheeks, "I know it was stupid, okay! I just... Broke something of theirs with my clumsiness, and they said I'd just needed to pay them back in installments."
"Oh, and what was it exactly that you 'broke' of theirs? Hmm?"
The steam had since left Des's sails as he once again looked down at his hands, unable to meet those yellow eyes. "I kinda, sorta, crashed the boss's Mercedes into the river."
A deep rumbling shook the bench and as Des turned his head back all he could see was the face of the madman, cheeks puffed out, tears in his eyes, fist shoved deep in his mouth to stop himself from laughing right in my face. He physically shook from the effort. Apparently there was no holding back the tide of gut wrenching laughter.
The pouring rain and ankle deep puddles in the street didn't stop the madman from keeling over and rolling this way and that, laughing hysterically while holding his ribs in. The whole street echoed with the sound of an old man puking his guts out giggling. It was a wonder that nobody stopped to see what all the commotion was... On second thought, it was weird how nobody had driven past in the last few minutes.
"Tee-hee hoo ho haahah! HIS MERCEDES! HA! Or should it be a 'Mer-seades! Ho, that cracks me up! Boy, those cars don't come cheap! How in the universe did you pull that chaotic little stunt?"
Seeing a crazy old man act out like he was a child really made Des wish he never lost my mind with old age.
"It wasn't intentional, just coincidental, I swear! ...I was biking over a bridge when I saw a family of ducks in the middle of the road. Couldn't help myself, by the time I realized I had stopped to move them out of traffic the car had already swerved to avoid running me over. The next moment they were in the drink, I'm more thankful that nobody was seriously hurt."
The man had stopped rolling through puddles and stared back up at Des, for the first time since he had the unpleasant chance to meet him the old man was genuinely smiling. "You remind me of someone I know back home, she would have done exactly that. Do something dangerously stupid to save some dumb animal." He tutted to himself as he rose back up, for all rain that had poured on him and the muddy puddles he went through not a spot of grime or wetness blemished his coat.
"Tell you what, if you're hankering for a job to pay the bills, and maybe fix that poor luck of yours, I've got someone who's looking for... an assistant." From inside the quilted breast pocket the old man pulled out a business card, with an outstretched hand he offered it to Desmond. "They owe me a few favors, and I suuupose I should cash one of them in before his memory fails him."
Accepting the card Des flipped it over, a little stylized dragon covered one side holding a book open. "The Dragon's Keep, bookstore and Café?"
"Just remember, nothing in this world is free. They'll help you get back on your two feet, and in exchange I'll have your word that you'll help me out should I ever decide to ask. Who knows when that might be though, could be tomorrow, next year, or even yesterday! Hard to say when something might crop up, chaos really doesn't like to follow it's own schedule."
"Umm, thanks? I guess?" Desmond pocketed the card, if the card was still in his pocket by tomorrow morning he'd believe he hadn't hallucinated this whole event.
"Don't mention it my boy!" Then a darker tone came across the madman's face, "No seriously, don't ever mention it. If word got out I give out helping hands I'd be up to my arm pits in beings begging for my help."
"Then why bother?" For the life of him Desmond couldn't help but ask more dumb questions, there were just too many to count at the moment.
The old man just waved a hand dismissively, "Bah, it's something inane to do with giving out free help and a quota I should fill. Nothing for you to worry your puny mind about. Just go see the owner of this bookworm factory and tell him 'Discord sends his regards!' He'll know what it means... Hopefully. If nothing else he'll probablymaybeshouldsorta hire you on the spot."
For a moment Desmond just glared at this strange man, every syllable was like a nail in his forehead, half of what he was saying sounded like jabbering nonsense. However, it was true he seemed more lucid than most drug addicts and mentally unstable people he'd met. It was probably just some elaborate joke, maybe he'll end up on YouTube in a prank compilation.
"I won't say I believe you, cause I don't, but I'm not going to be picky with how I get a new job. If you're a recruiter for some weird cult you better work on your people skills, cause I'm not going to drink any Koolade after this."
"Ah, that's actually quite a common misconception, that was Favor Aid. Still, this is more for your sake than my own, so if you do anything with this information then that's all on you kiddo."
From around the street corner a tiny car cane speeding toward the bus stop, it reminded Des of Mr.Bean's old mini, except instead of a beloved British actor there was a girl with frizzy purple and white hair wearing a beanie. "Ah, seems my ride has arrived!"
The odd man strode out into the middle of the road and tipped an imaginary hat back where Des still sat. "To you Mr. Mallory, I wish you best of luck! May we see each other soon! Ta ta!" And with that the mini drove right into him, sending him flying over the bonnet. Des stared mouth agape in shock as he witnessed the creepy old man become roadkill!
It all seemed to be planned however as the old man grabbed onto the roof and waved back, as if was the most normal thing to do. He looked like a disfigured windsock as he was dragged into the night. Desmond could still hear is laughter from several blocks away.
The young man couldn't think for several minutes straight after that, he couldn't trust himself not to run off to the hills and become as nutty as that weirdo after seeing all that, it seemed to have really messed with his head enough to almost believe it was all just a dream. If it wasn't for the card still in Desmond's jean pocket did he not just discard it all as a dream.
"-board, Sir? Sir?" Des looked up from his daze to realize his bus had pulled up, a worried looking bus driver looking down at him from his seat. "Are you okay there?"
Desmond swallowed a lump in his throat and shook his head, "I-I'm fine, just give me a second to get on." Nobody would believe me if I told them about the stranger, but maybe there was someplace that knew...
A trembling hand gripped the business card still in his pocket, they might at least have some answers waiting for him.
I know Desmond seems a bit too gloomy at the moment, but hopefully that can change pretty soon! After all, we need to have some ups and downs to this Rollercoaster!
Here's also some fabulous art of Discord's... Erm... "Greeting" Desmond is how we should say! Drawn by the amazing Mix-Up! He really caught the essense of meeting otherworldly magically mad strangers at the midnight bus stop!
Let me know if there's any way I can improve my work, haven't been writing in awhile and figured I should exercise the Ol noggin for a story or three! 
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In Mr. Flemming's defense and the Minesweeper incident aside, he handled that firing fairly professionally and at least showed some sympathy--having been fired from a job myself once, that sympathy does help to take some of the edge off the sting.
To be fair, not all instances of jaundiced, yellowed, eyes are caused by a failing liver, as other bodily complications can result in the same symptom (if you can call it that) but still go on to live a fairly normal life. I myself have a genetic condition that can result in this (though my case is probably far milder than what described here) but otherwise live a normal life.
Gotta give ya credit--it didn't even occur to me who this guy might be until right about here, even though it seemed, in retrospect, like it should've been obvious. Normally I pick up on the describing clues pretty quick, but you managed to keep me off the trail from getting clued in too quickly, so props for that.
Famous last words, dude.
Should be "syllable". I generally try not to be the grammar nazi, but admittedly that's a catastrophic enough of a misspelling that I knew if I didn't point it out, somebody else would, and may not be so kind about it either.
Anyway, this seems interesting, so I'll bite and see where it goes next.
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Thanks for the feedback! Haven't really been writing in years, and I hope to improve with more practice. Recently I've been reading some very well written fanfics and I guess I was trying to match their level of writing with this.
As for the firing, Desmond's was better than most, true, though it was more to just be an apathetic treatment to get him out the door. Still stings when you're let go with the feeling that you never were that welcome to begin with.
I'll also try and keep some mystery in the story, such as what each character's true motivation is, or how the "Big Picture" rolls out. Magic should be at least a bit mythic.
Should have a new chapter out soonish, just gotta fill the rest of the chapter out and edit. I hope I continue to entertain you and many others!
Liking This, So Far.
Loser
11046439
Gesundheit.
(But really, thanks for the error find!)
11046445
Next paragraph should say “worse,” not worst. The one sentence should probably say “You could be in much worse spots, trust me kiddo,” etc.
Holy moly
AL Capone, not El. Pretty sure you’d be wearing cement shoes if he heard you call him that.
So, this is a bit semantic, but you've actually switched to third person perspective, not second. Second person is like those anon stories where it's 'you' doing everything.
Other than that, good story and I'm interested to see where it goes!
This is really really weird to read. I’m not even sure I should say more than that.