I walk importantly to the drawer. I rummage in there, just like the closet, coming across all kinds of interesting things that I’m not going to tell you about. Try to take a look at another man’s junk drawer and you’ll have a fight on your hands. Fight on sight. I find just the right thing. I’m good at coming up with solutions to very complex problems. Black shoe polish. You probably thought I was going to just spray paint my slippers black or something. First off, I don’t want to get black spray paint on my floor, and second off, nobody has a can of black spray paint hanging around their house.
Do this. Dial ten numbers at random on your phone. When someone answers, don’t give them any kind of spiel or anything, people won’t listen to a spiel, even if you genuinely have something to give to them for free. People pride themselves on not falling for a spiel. “Hey George!” ‘Ol Dale will say to his buddy at church. “Guess what happened to me today?” And George will ask him what happened because that’s what you’re supposed to do. George doesn’t particularly care for Dale, but this is church and you’re supposed to be nice to people at church, otherwise you’ll get called out for sinning or something. Make you take a bath in front of the whole congregation and if you don’t cry some, they’ll keep dunking you until you do. George says “Gee, what happened, Dale?” And Dale will slap his knee and say “I got a call from some joker the other day, some joker trying to sell me something I didn’t even need! I knew I didn’t need it because he had that spiel voice and sounded like he was reading from a card. Can't pull nothin’ over on yers truly!” George nods sagely, then pretends he sees something across the room that demands immediate attention and walks quickly away.
Don’t prepare. Just boop in them ten numbers at random, and when someone picks up the phone, just ask “do you have any black spray paint?” They’ll say no. Call another one. Keep on calling until you understand what I’m talking about you doofus. Then you’ll believe me. No one has a can of black spray paint in their house.
I go to the bathroom and unroll some toilet paper. Black shoe polish is greasy and sticks to about everything, so you have to be careful, otherwise you’ll get some between your fingers and it feels weird. I mean, you can do that if you want, but I don’t like the feeling. I wad up the toilet paper and daub it in the polish, then go to town. I go further then going to town, I go all the way across country with that shoe polish. I’m careful not to get it on the lush fur, but Jesus Christ these slippers are going to be black as shit when I’m done with them.
I hum a little tune while polishing them up, something I heard somewhere. Probably something from TV, some kind of catchy ad. I put my hands inside the slippers and admire my work. Fuck yeah! These babies look sharp. I put the polish back in the drawer and slip on these masterpieces. Ready for work. Got my blue socks, western shirt, sweet pants top covered by the shirt, and these black and very businesslike slippers. I grab up my fake lunch and head out the door, shoving aside the stool with the cans on it. They clatter to the floor loudly. That's why I put them there. Never hurts to test.
I lock up, hold my head up high, and get into business character. The building is right across the street, so it takes me about 18 second to get there. That was fast. I flex my toes in the furry slippers and walk confidently up to the entrance, pushing on the push bar, just like the security guard did. It opens right up. I try not to look surprised. Why would I be surprised if a door opens up in my building. This is my building after all, I come here all the time for business.
There’s a grand glass archway that leads into a large reception area bookended by two large solid oak desks, each about the size of a ping pong table. No one is behind them, so I keep walking. To the left and the right of the reception area are two staircases curving out of sight. Maybe one for going up and one for going down? I head up the right set of stairs which curves gracefully, then ends in a wall. I stand in front of the wall like I knew it would be there the whole time, looking closely all the while for some kind of a door or secret panel for fingerprints or whatever the fuck business people use to get the job of opening a door done. Nothing there, so I smack my head like I forgot something in case someone was watching. That works a lot. I think. I’m not sure though since I’ve never taken a poll. It seems to work.
Anyway, I smack my head and head on back down the stairs. When I get to the reception area, everything is the same, no receptionists, no plants, not even a fountain for people to throw away their loose change into to wish that they didn’t have to work in an office building any more. I head over to the other set of stairs and climb that one. It doesn’t end in a wall, which is good, otherwise that would pretty much end my foray into this building. It also wouldn’t be very interesting to hear about. “Hey! I ever tell you the time I walked into an office building, then walked back out again?” Nope! No wall up this flight of stairs. It crescendos at the top, like most stairways do, then flattenes into a hallway which is what you would expect from an office building.
I look left and right, and the hallway extends in either direction and it appears as though each direction reaches about the same length, putting me right in the middle. I chose right when deciding which stairway to take first and that just ended in a wall, so I turn left, trying to make my slippers click unsuccessfully. There’s a door on either side of the hallway, each about ten feet from the other. There were about 80 doors total. I try the first one. It opens easily enough on it’s pneumatic arm, but behind it is just a blank wall.
I close that door, then try the next one. Wall. The next. Wall. I walk another 20 feet and try another one. This one opens into a room finally, but there’s nothing in there. Looks like an office. It’s got that ugly grey carpet and drop ceiling vibe with a flourescent light hanging directly in the middle of the ceiling, but that’s about it. Boring.
I close the door and keep walking, trying random doors, finding more walls and empty rooms. Then I reach the end of the hallway and open the last door on the right. No wall, blank room this time, but at the other end of the room is a small door about the size of a cereal box. I look around, checking to make sure those fat security guards aren’t wandering around with their shocker sticks, waiting to test them out on the first person they come to. All clear. I enter the room and close the door behind me. I stare at the little door for a while. It looks just like the hallway doors, only in miniature form. Even has the same kind of knob. I get closer, curious.
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I sit down in front of the door and gaze at it. Whoever did this put some effort in. Everything was exactly proportional, the screws holding the knob to the door, the hinges. This was here for a reason obviously, but who the fuck would want a tiny door in their office? Ah! Maybe it was just a little storage area for... files? Stacks of paper? I reach out and open it. What else did you think I was going to do? And before you can guess, no, there wasn’t some kind of magical dimension inside, that would be too obvious. This is just a tiny door in an empty office building. Get your head straight.
Inside is an exact replica of the empty office I’m currently in, only this tiny office has furniture in it. Conference table, little ergonomic office chairs, tiny whiteboard at the end, miniature phone in the middle of the conference table for... probably conference calls. In the corner of the room is even a little sideboard with a small jug of water filled with little lemon slices and the tiniest ice cubes I’ve ever personally seen. And I’ve seen a lot of tiny ice cubes in my life. Fukkin’ weird. I feel like someone is about to come walking into this tiny room at any minute and that creeps me out. What would be having a meeting in a room that small? Mice? Little business mice? What would they talk about? The price of cheese? How to spring a mousetrap without getting your neck broken?
I close the tiny door and walk on out of there. I close the door to the big empty office a little too hard this time, and something weird happens. Probably a trick of the light. I open the door again, then slam it hard on purpose. Nope. That definitely happened. The walls on either side of the door flexed ever so slightly. I reach out and touch the wall. There's a give to it, like touching a mushroom. Kind of springy and moist. I put my whole hand against the wall and press hard, then pull my hand back. My hand imprint is on the wall for a second, then it recedes back until the wall looks the same. Like pressing your hand into a foam mattress. I walk across the hall, then run at the wall this time. I’m not fukkin’ around. Sometimes you have to jump right to the end of the experiment. The wall springs me back into the hallway and the imprint left on the wall looks like it's from a cartoon. Like when an idiot character is chasing something, then the something being chased replaces the snowbank or the like with a plate of steel and you can see the full outline of the idiot. There’s the outline of my head, my knees, and my shoulder where I put most of my energy.
Then the image fades again. Is this wall made out of some kind of high end business foam? Keep people from running too hard into the walls? I reach into my fake lunch bag. Time for another kind of experiment. I pull out the jug of toilet bowl cleaner, uncap the noxious, shit cleaning bastard, and splash a healthy splash on the wall. This time, the wall draws back several feet to the point where I can peer into the empty office through the crack it made when separating itself from the door next to it. It starts to sizzle, and I get ready to run. A white foam forms on the spot where I splashed the cleaner, bubbling out like a sideways vinegar and baking soda volcano. It drips down in a sudsy mess onto the floor, which reacts in much the same way, retracting, then slowly forming itself back into a floor. The wall seems like it’s healed itself all the way.
Fukkin’ office buildings. I rummage around in my bag and pull out a fork. I lunge at the wall and stab it like it killed my Pa and this was revenge. I encounter resistance at first, then the fork punches through the flabby wall and air starts escaping. It smells like car exhaust. I step back. I think I went too far. The wall is whining now like when you pinch a balloon opening to make it sound like a squeaky fart. The sound grows in volume until I have to drop my bag to cover my ears. Jesus Christ but this wall is dramatic. It continues to whine, then begins to sag. Starting at the top where the wall meets the ceiling, then slowly the center of the wall begins to deflate like a horizontal pool float. I look down the hallway, sure the security guards have heard this crazy ruckus, but they still aren’t there. Typical. I do a double take. The hallway is now starting to cant downward, ever so slightly. No. That’s fukkin’ insane. I look closer. Yep. The floor is starting to droop.
Time to go. But before I do, I get a crazy thought. I really liked that little setup inside that tiny office. That would look nice on my bedside table. I sprint inside the office, open the tiny door, and start filling my pockets with everything in it. Little notepads? In. Little pens? In. I grab everything and stuff them on in. Scooped everything like a champ.
I stand up and see that the ceiling is lower by about six feet. I could reach up and touch it if I wanted, but I don’t think I’ll be doing that. I run out of the office, not even bothering to close the door behind me. The hallway is now a crazy funhouse, bobbing around and making me wobble as I try to make it to the stairs. The ceiling is right above my head now, so I crouch run it to the stairs and make it just in time. The stairs have gone all rubbery and flubbery now, so I end up falling on my ass, which was a turn of luck since it was faster to slide down them at this point. The receptions area is in shambles, it looks like a giant tent lost it’s central pole and was in the process of collapsing slowly, right onto the heads of a very sad crowd of circus goers that would now have to contend with possibly fighting a tiger under a giant sheet. Like that shark game you play as a kid with the parachute? Only this time, it was playing for keeps. Maybe that’s why they teach you that game when you’re young. In case a giant tent filled with razor toothed creatures happens to fall on you.
I make it outside and run across the street. I look down. Some of the shoe polish came off the toe of my right slipper. Fuck. I put a lot of time into putting on that shoe polish. I look up at the building and it’s deflating like a business themed bouncy house. Amazing the kinds of things you can do with a nice set of business clothes and a fork I guess.
I check my pockets quickly. Fuck yeah! Still got my little office furniture! The building has collapsed all the way now. All the way to the ground. Jesus Christ that was strange. I shrug and head back to my house. I carefully place my slippers next to the door, lock up, set the tiny office furniture carefully on my kitchen counter for further examination later. I’m beat.
I sit down and flip on the TV. I look outside at the deflated building from time to time. Yuk. I can smell it from here. It’s already starting to grow mold. Completely flat against the ground now. People are walking by, but they don’t even give it a second glance. Morons. It’s not every day an entire building shows up out of nowhere, gets fully deflated, then starts to grow mold like it was made out of pudding skin. I look closer. Not fully deflated after all. There’s a little hump right in the middle of the building puddle. It looks suspiciously about the same size as a small shed in the middle of a parking lot. I shake my head. So that’s what happened. The building was camouflage for the shed. Psh. Not in this life buddy. Can’t trick me. I fukkin' knew it was in there somewhere.