It was another day of blistering heat. Rays of sun beamed down, finding tiny bits of skin to annihilate. Sweat oozed out and filled the baking car with steam and blinding stench. Tim the Printer Guy looked down at his ensemble: a tattered t-shirt, adorned with a team logo that Tim did not recognize; some old, tight, gym shorts stained from years of abuse; and his regular, brown Posturepedic shoes with long tan socks bunched up at the top.
He was a panting mess just sitting in the parking lot, zoning out from the heat and struggling to find the strength to move his head. He looked out at DYMO Gym—which seemed like a treacherous journey away from his car—and saw Octavian walk inside the front door of the building with an energetic, bouncy gait. Octavian was holding a black gym bag and wearing a sporty outfit as well; extraordinarily bright and slim, though he was certainly fitting the style. His muscles protruded out of the athletic tank top and his shorts hugged his waist nicely. Tim the Printer Guy had been building up the courage to go to this gym for quite a while. He knew that Octavian had been coming here for a few months now, possibly just to work out his powerful physique, or to otherwise mingle with the common people.
Octavian had been the supervisor of PaperClips' Adonises, and had ruled over the tech service department until stepping down for some unknown reason. Jamir had taken the reins and, by Tim’s observation, things have never been the same. Though Tim the Printer Guy loved Jamir very much, as his exotic beauty was a glimmer of spice in Tim’s life, there had always been something so stable and comforting about Octavian’s authority. The Adonises needed someone who possessed natural leadership and strength. It was Octavian’s physical build, along with his extraordinarily kind and approachable personality, that proved his preeminence.
Tim opened the car door and rocked back and forth to shake away from his seat, eventually waddling out onto the hot pavement. The sun continued to beat down on him, creating more and more sweat. He began to see sparkles in his vision, but nothing could break his determination to get to the gym’s door. There were knots all throughout his stomach, which were fueled by paranoid, anxious thoughts. What if he could not find Octavian, or what if Octavian could not accept Tim for what he was? The look of his own body made Tim focus on the idea of perfection, and he would incessantly feel that he possessed the appearance of a gremlin. But there was no time to dwell on that. Looking at the door only brought the impulse to act.
Tim the Printer Guy stepped into the gym and felt the cool air envelope his body. He saw physically fit people, yet nothing could compare to that of Octavian. There was some feathered whore behind the front desk.
“Hi, can I help you?” she asked with a nasally whine.
Tim was trapped, and felt like he could not speak.
“I was wondering about working out here?” Tim the Printer Guy mustered out, letting the awkwardness infect his tone.
Tim could see confusion creep upon her brow. “Do you mean like getting a membership?” she asked.
Tim the Printer Guy hesitated. “Uh…,”
“Well, I can have you talk to someone to set that up,” she chirped.
Tim the Printer Guy began to stammer and tried to take back his words but was silenced by the sight of Octavian approaching the two of them. The harpy at the desk, along with Tim turned to greet this mighty Adonis.
“Hey Octavian, can you help this gentleman out?” she asked with that same irritating whine. “I think he wants to apply for a membership.”
“Yeah, no problem,” Octavian said. “Follow me over here, I can get you a sheet to fill out.”
He led Tim the Printer Guy away from that foul desk harpy, and over to a table where he took out a piece of paper with a few questions on it.
“Yeah, just fill this out and we can get you all set up,” Octavian said, offering Tim a pen.
Tim found a pen and began to look at the questions and requirements: email, home address, name… All required information that Tim the Printer Guy did not think possible to give. He froze for a moment, then looked at Octavian, who was not paying him much attention. Octavian was looking around at the gym, and it seemed his mind was preoccupied with something else.
Then Octavian suddenly turned to say, “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”
Tim’s heart stopped. He faced Octavian and struggled to find the right words. “It's me… Tim, the uh… I thought you worked at PaperClips. I train employees there.”
“Oh yeah, Tim, the Printer Guy,” Octavian said with a smile. “Yeah, I still work there, but just part time. I started working here too. I’m at the gym all the time anyway, so I figured I would get a job. Plus, this kind of place is where I feel more comfortable working anyway.”
“So, you are going to leave PaperClips?” Tim asked.
“Not right now., “Octavian said. “I can’t get a full-time position here yet, so I can’t afford to quit, and I still like working over there too, the people are great. I am just not liking retail anymore.”
“It would be a shame if you left there, I am serious,” Tim whined.
This new revelation put Tim the Printer Guy in a hole of anxiety. Octavian was looking to leave the store—and possibly Tim—forever. What would he do without Octavian in his life? Now he understood the changing dynamic. Octavian was not just leaving his managerial duties, but the store all together, and only to chase these overfed gremlin swine that dare call themselves perfect! Surely, Octavian would be nothing without Tim the Printer Guy in his life, guiding his curious mind towards greatness in the art of selling things. This was Tim’s chance to nudge him back to the pond and restore balance. He had to prove himself as a protector to Octavian.
“Well, thanks man. So are you wanting to pump some iron?” Octavian said in a teasing sort of way, but his tone was considerate. “We have some great programs here if you are willing to commit.”
“Yeah I am willing to commit and everything, I just might need some time to fill out the sheet,” Tim the Printer Guy said.
“Eh, don’t worry about that for now. I can take you around if you want,” Octavian said while already ushering Tim away from the table. “So, you a Cowboys fan?”
“What?” Tim the Printer Guy asked nervously.
“The Dallas Cowboys,” Octavian pointed at the shirt Tim was wearing.
Tim the Printer Guy looked down at the big, blue star across his chest. “Yeah I am, I love the Cowboys!”
“That's cool,” said Octavian.
“Yes! I love the Cowboys, especially down at Ram Ranch,” Tim spouted awkwardly, remembering the lyrics to a popular song he once heard.
Octavian was taken aback. “Eh… I don’t really know much about the NFL, I’m more of a college football fan myself.”
“Oh...well I am too,” Tim the Printer Guy continued. “College is the best, though I am not allowed at my college anymore.”
Octavian looked concerned. “That’s too bad,” he said.
“Do you like Japan?” Tim asked, changing the subject.
“Like the country? Sure…”
“That's cool. You know, I am part Japanese,” said Tim the Printer Guy.
Octavian looked at his pale, white, caucasian face. “You are?” he asked dryly.
“Yeah. Well, I am adopted. My dad knows a lot about martial arts and stuff. He used to be a Samurai!”
Octavian seemed confused. He was probably thinking about Samurai and their existence during the Edo period of Japan, which likely made him assume Tim’s father must have been extremely old. But since Octavian was a polite young man, he did not question Tim the Printer Guy on any historical inconsistencies. He just smiled and took Tim’s ramblings in stride.
“That is pretty neat, Tim! Are you into martial arts as well?” Octavian asked.
“Well, I know some, but I am a disgraced ronin in my father’s eyes,” Tim the Printer Guy said. “I don’t see him much any more, so my style is flawed and weak,”
Octavian nodded. “We have a good facility in the back for mixed martial arts, if you want to check it out.”
Octavian pointed to a hallway in the back corner, where screams could be heard echoing off the walls.
Tim was entranced. He stared deeply into the corner and felt his adrenaline build up. There were faint stains on the walls that Tim correctly assumed was blood. The screams became chants in his mind and a rhythm in his heart. Tim the Printer Guy began to walk towards the hallway. Octavian followed, trying to keep up with his explanation of the different memberships.
“Yeah Tim, if we get you signed up then you can really take full advantage of the gym,” he pestered. “The MMA ring comes with the premium membership and it only costs twenty dollars extra.”
“I need to prove my worth!” Tim the Printer Guy adamantly exclaimed.
Octavian was a bit frightened by Tim’s sudden and oddly serious statement. “I am not sure what you are talking about, but to get a membership you just have to sign up and pay the fee,” he said.
There was no stopping Tim the Printer Guy’s determination. He was ready to see what was needed to prove himself to Octavian. Tim knew that if there was anything in this gym that would give him self-worth, it would be this. He walked down the hallway and soon entered another gym, which was slightly different and separate from the main workout area. There were boxing bags and weights all around a huge ring surrounded by ropes. In the ring were a couple of bulky, muscular men in black shorts and padded gloves, hitting each other with their hands and feet. They both stopped when they saw Tim the Printer Guy’s bulbous figure approach the ropes and climb up into the ring.
“Can I help you?” asked one of the men.
Tim the Printer Guy valiantly raised his finger at the two of them. “I am looking for a fight,” he said, “and I do not care which of you it is.”
The men looked at each other. “Is this guy serious?” asked one of them.
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“I will destroy both of you!” Tim waved his hand, with a threatening flourish of the wrist. He attempted to mimic a villain from some anime.
“Listen bro, we don’t want to fight you,” said the taller one of the two.
Tim lunged at the other man, who was a bit shorter than Tim, and struck his head with his hand.
“What the fuck?!” said the short man after receiving the slap.
The game had begun. Tim the Printer Guy was dancing around the two of them, and they were getting angrier and angrier at the sight of his quick feet. He waved his hands in the air, trying his best to taunt his attackers. For Tim—who had little experience in the way of the empty hand—the thought of forming a punch was very foreign to him. Ever since he was a young child learning his father’s aggressive ways, swords were commonplace and preferred.
Tim the Printer Guy realized he was lost without the shinai. He looked over and saw a mop leaning against the ring—it was possibly used to clean up the blood— and reached over to grasp the handle in his hand. The mop became an extension of his soul, a brush on the canvas of war and honor. As Tim the Printer Guy lifted the handle above his head and thought carefully about his first strike, Octavian ran up to the side of the ring.
“Hey, this guy hasn't signed any liability waivers yet!” he yelled.
“I don’t care about that shit!” said the short man, now seeing nothing but red.
The taller one agreed with his ally’s sentiments. “Yeah this guy is gonna get laid out!”
Tim the Printer Guy closed his eyes and called upon Jigen-ryū, a style his father hammered into the very fiber of his being. This was the moment, the first strike in the battle for Octavian.
Tim the Printer Guy then felt a fist decimate his face and, in an instant, collapsed to the ground. The two men began kicking and punching Tim, who laid in a bloody heap. Octavian was quick to call off the two men, then got closer to see the mess.
He leaned down towards Tim the Printer Guy and whispered frantically in his ear, “Hey buddy, I can waive all the fee stuff for a membership, no problem. Just promise to not sue us.”
Tim the Printer Guy was drifting in and out of consciousness. The whole of his being was fractured and it seemed all was lost, for there was no way for Tim to guard his beloved Adonises of the store. How could he face challenges that were far greater than these two? Tim’s vision faded to black as his mind started to drift to a more hopeful time…
It had been a long, arduous Monday for Tim, who had been slaving away at the hands of Skeeter Skeeterson. The office was a mess, as there was a fear that the company was shutting down, which meant Tim the Printer Guy was about to get evicted from his apartment. The company he worked for, ProSales, was a third-party team hired by many different retail companies to train sales associates on how to sell certain products. Tim was the guy in charge of printers, which he liked dealing with and felt that he knew a lot about.
On the surface, it seemed easy, but in actuality, Tim the Printer Guy was suffering at the will of lazy, apathetic employees. Even though these retail stores would pay ProSales’ people to come out and help with the training, the managers and employees did not bother to acknowledge them. In retail, there were a lot of different types of stores that sold different types of printers, so Tim the Printer Guy had a lot of ground to cover and there was so much to stay up to date on. Yet there was so much loneliness and frustration while attempting to reach out to these people. Tim the Printer Guy had to meet a quota from the businesses to get paid, but it was proving to be an arduous task, trying to get people to finish anything. Even with the promise of incentives—coupons and gift cards—no one bothered to listen to Tim’s pleas for attention.
Over time he got more and more depressed, angry, and deprived of money. He could not afford essentials, let alone his paints, which he would use to stimulate his creative aspirations. These employees became gremlins in Tim’s life, robbing the world of majesty and wonder. Today, there was only one store on call for Tim to visit: PaperClips Office Supply, which was a small chain but still thriving throughout the state. Tim the Printer Guy had packed up his incentives and drove to the location. He had never been here before, and just wanted to visit to at least say he had been there once.
Tim the Printer Guy lumbered out of his car and stared at the huge sign above the front door. He expected nothing but the worst from this group of employees. There was no indication that this trip would be anything different than another “rousing” day of mental anguish and irritating silence amongst the workforce. As he walked into the store, Tim could see many customers, who were all busy talking and looking at products. He avoided looking at their faces, and scanned the store for the printer section. Just then, a friendly, booming voice sent waves of auditory pleasure through Tim’s ear.
“Can I help you?” a tall, beefy man asked brightly.
“Hi.” Tim the Printer Guy was flustered. “I am here to, uh… give you guys some additional training on the printers.”
The man smiled. “That sounds great, we would love to get as much help as possible!”
His voice was enough to bring Tim to his knees. With impressive stature, he looked down at Tim the Printer Guy and dominated him, while providing such comfort. He had short, auburn hair with an equally thick beard. It was perfectly trimmed and reminded Tim the Printer Guy of a viking or mountain man, though he possessed impeccable hygiene. Tim could feel kindness in his soul again, as he had met an Adonis.
“My name is Octavian Glaze,” the large man said, taking charge. “If you want, I can send someone over to you when they free up.”
Tim the Printer Guy was in awe of his generosity, as the beauty that radiated from his aura brought tears of joy. “You are too kind. Who do you have for me to talk to today?” Tim asked.
“Well, Jamir is over by the printer ink, and I see that Mikeal just clocked in.” Octavian pointed at two other men of similar beauty: one, a shorter, diligent type with dark, exotic features and the other, a tall pale man with blonde hair. “I could have you talk to him right now.”
Tim the Printer Guy was enchanted by all of them as they worked their way through the store. They were Adonises—the pinnacle of beauty, just as Octavian was—there was no doubt.
Octavian walked Tim the Printer Guy to the printer section of the store. Each printer was perfect in appearance—there was no need to even dust or check inventory. These workers were so conscientious! Mikeal walked up to Octavian, and Octavianguided him in the direction of Tim the Printer Guy. Mikeal was a geisha princess, with his flowing blonde hair and his slim, tall frame. He danced over to Tim, with wind in each step, further enchanting Tim the Printer Guy with intrinsic beauty and grace.
“Hey, I am Mikeal. You are the printer guy, or whatever?” he asked.
“Yes... That is me,” Tim the Printer Guy nervously stuttered, while attempting to hide his blushing cheeks. “Sorry,” Tim said, “it’s a little hot in here.”
“Sure…” Mikeal said with an uncomfortable smile. “So uh… What do I have to do?”
Tim the Printer Guy told Mikeal of the ProSales app, which provided access to all the training videos and quizzes. “Just download this app,” he said, “and take these courses and I can promise you something in return.” Tim the Printer Guy held up a gift card to a popular Mexican restaurant. “This burrito will be on me," he said.
“Cool, sounds good,” said Mikeal.
Octavian approached the two of them again. “How are we doing over here?” he asked.
“Great, just getting these training courses done,” Mikeal said with lovely energy and commitment.
“I will download that app too!” Octavian whipped out his phone and began the process.
Tim the Printer Guy had never seen such dedication. If he got his quota done today, that would mean he would finally get paid. No more cold nights without heat, or eating out of trash cans for Tim the Printer Guy.
“Oh hey Mikeal, can you go talk to that customer over there?” Octavian asked, pointing to a woman looking in the computer section.
“No problem,” said Mikeal, springing to action.
Octavian then looked over and saw someone coming up to the front of the store. “Hey,” he said to Tim, “I think Mikeal will be busy for a moment, but you can talk with Adem. He is clocking in now.”
Tim the Printer Guy followed Octavian’s line of sight and felt a storm rolling in as he gazed upon a gruesome creature—a pale gremlin with a long nose and spiked teeth. He stood by the front computer, lazily typing and looking over the store. His hair was jet black and riddled with bits of dandruff, and his eyes were dark and cold. His arms and hands were slimy like tentacles that suckered the keyboard and slithered in and out of the sleeves of his long, gray sweater. This was not one of the Adonises, but a terrifying oni that haunted these grounds.
“Is that Adem?” Tim the Printer Guy asked, with his voice taking a dip in pitch.
“Yeah,” Octavian said, “let me just see if he is available to talk.” He walked away from Tim.
How could a store of such beauty also be home to a monster? Regardless, Tim was still optimistic about what he could teach the young man. Today brought such hope and joy, so why should Tim ponder on the negativity? Maybe it was seeing these men that made this gremlin appear so foul in comparison.
“Okay, send him to me once he is ready!” Tim the Printer Guy called out.
Octavian talked briefly with Adem, whose eyes glazed over at Tim the Printer Guy waiting in the printer section. Adem nodded his head at Octavian, who walked over to another customer, but continued to stay by the computer grimacing at Tim. Adem then turned and walked into a room on one end of the store and disappeared.
“He is probably just getting ready,” Tim the Printer Guy said to himself.
Minutes passed,which soon turned into an hour and Adem was nowhere to be seen! Tim the Printer Guy looked over at the clock and saw his time was running out. If Adem would not take any of the courses, then Tim would not meet his quota! Panic soon trickled into Tim’s chest as he scrambled to find Adem. He darted over to the room into which Adem had disappeared, and opened the door. All that remained in the space was broken cell phones and batteries.
“He possesses black magic!” Tim shouted.
Octavian could see Tim the Printer Guy yelling in the cell phone repair room, and decided to intervene.
“Hey Tim, what are you looking for?” Octavian inquired.
“He is nowhere to be found! Adem, where is he?” Tim the Printer Guy harped.
Octavian looked back over at the printer aisle and saw Adem standing with a customer, obviously in the middle of a sale.
“He is over there,” Octavian said, in a concerned way.
“That crafty jew,” Tim the Printer Guy whispered under his breath.
“I am sorry, what did you say?” Octavian recoiled at the anti-semetic remark.
“Oh… It’s almost noon,” Tim the Printer Guy said quickly. “I have to go, but can I take some pictures of the store before I leave? I need to show my boss that you guys were taking the courses.”
Octavian looked confused. “Why do they need to see pictures of us doing the courses? They don’t have a way of seeing if the courses are done through the app?” he asked.
“Yeah, we have a pretty loose way of getting this stuff done. They just want to make sure that I am helping you with the courses. If you are doing these courses by yourself you might not pick up on everything, so it just helps to have proof that I was there guiding you over your shoulder,” Tim the Printer Guy elaborated.
“Okay…” Octavian said, only half believing him.
This rambling was, of course, all lies. Skeeter did not need the pictures, but Tim knew that he could not go home without evidence of those Adonises—their beauty was too much to live without. Octavian called Mikeal over and Tim the Printer Guy took out his phone.
“Great! Everyone is going to love this,” Tim the Printer Guy said, caught in the moment. He snapped a few pictures.
“Can I go back to work now?” Mikeal asked, a little uncomfortable with Tim’s photography.
“Go ahead, I got everything I needed for today and more. It was a pleasure doing business with you guys, and I am sure I will see you again very soon,” Tim the Printer Guy said, getting his things together.
“Nice to have you,” Octavian said.
As Tim the Printer Guy walked out of the store, he could not escape the thought of those beautiful men gracing the world with their beauty. This was his chance to get his life back on track, but it seemed to come at a cost. The wicked Adem was like nothing Tim had come across before. His methods of trickery were impressive and the mark of his character was dark and mysterious. There was no doubt, he was attempting to pull the others away from Tim and make it so no one could feel the loving embrace of his training. Tim knew that to save the ones he loved, he would have to battle this erroneous beast…
Tim the Printer Guy woke up from his bloody slumber; he was still laying in the fighting ring of Octavian’s gym. His eyes were swollen, but he could still make out the blurry shape of Octavian yelling at the guys who had beat him up. Though Tim the Printer Guy’s bones were broken, he felt warmth in his heart, and a stiffness in his back.
“I have to get the manager and see if he can call for an ambulance!” Octavian yelled as he left Tim.
All the other gremlins stared at him as he lay there, frozen in pain and defeat. Their ostentatious outfits which tried—as feathers do—to portray beauty, seemed cheap and thin. They knew nothing of Tim the Printer Guy’s strife. Octavian was different from them. He saw Tim as a friend, or a fellow compatriot for love and honor. Today, he’d cared for him like a surrogate mother.
Hopefully Tim could repay him someday.