Jamir Sambol looked on in terror as Tim the Printer Guy paced around the room, holding a sword. The two were back in Tim’s old dwelling—though things had certainly changed as Jamir took his turn on Skeeter’s whipping post. Everything was much cleaner than how Tim the Printer Guy remembered it. No more, were the piles of clothes and garbage that produced such a wafting smell, or the occasional critter stowing away in the cupboards. Jamir had made this his home. He put a nice, oriental rug in the center and decorated each cabinet and dresser with equally exotic garnishings. There was furniture, like chairs and a couch, and pictures of smiling people that Tim could only assume was Jamir’s family. These accouterments of normality made Tim even more tense.
“You don’t understand!” screamed Tim the Printer Guy. “This isn’t right!” He walked over into the kitchen which was also tastefully decorated, with a “Home, Sweet Home” sign adorned on the wall. Tim slashed at it with the katana and shouted.
Jamir had to stay calm, despite the commotion. He thought that he could still reason with the anguished printer guy. Hopefully, he could find time to call the police, but Jamir needed to get Tim to leave him alone. “Okay Tim, you got me here and I am safe. What more do you want?” he asked.
“You’re not safe, you fool!” snapped Tim the Printer Guy. “This is all Skeeter’s way of playing with your mind!”
“Let’s just talk about this, okay. Come in the living room and take a seat.”
Tim was still spinning around in the kitchen. He opened the fridge and saw nothing but nicely packed lunches and yogurts—a bountiful amount of food, compared to the squalor Skeeter provided him.
“What’s with all this food?” asked Tim.
“I just like to stay healthy.”
“How can you afford all of this?”
Jamir was confused. “What do you mean, Tim?” he asked.
“This doesn’t make any sense!” shouted Tim. “This apartment is a palace! I never had this… Where are you getting this money?”
“I get paid every two weeks. Skeeter told me that a percentage goes to the apartment. The car is covered, so after taxes, I get a good amount to use on food and other things,” explained Jamir.
“He is just playing with your mind!” Tim shouted, while taking some things out of the fridge. He quickly opened a yogurt cup and poured the beautiful, greek concoction down his throat. Tim the Printer Guy then got an armful of other assorted treats and began eating them as he walked back to Jamir.
“Tim, please don’t eat all my food,” said Jamir.
“I need my strength!” Tim grunted. “Also, it has been a long while since I ate anything.”
“I can give you some money and you can go out and get something to eat if you want,” said Jamir. “Just let me get my wallet…”
“No!” Tim snapped. “You just stay right there.” While still holding the food, he drew his sword at Jamir, then plopped down on the couch. “I can’t leave you alone—not here.”
“What is so wrong with this place?” asked Jamir.
“Too much pain,” sputtered Tim, while continuing to stuff his face.
“What happened between you and Skeeter? I thought you two were friends…”
“What did he tell you?!” Tim the Printer Guy snapped again.
“Nothing!” Jamir exclaimed. “I don’t know anything about you two. Can you tell me why you left?”
“Skeeter was… or, is a wicked man!” Tim began. “I lived a peasant’s life. I ate nothing but hot pockets and salt. I was never paid any money, so I was bound to this apartment and to that car! I came back because I do not want the same for you.”
Jamir looked skeptical. “Okay…” he said. “But I think he has changed. He has been very fair to me so far, and the amount he pays me is very generous.”
“Lies!” screamed Tim, with tears in his eyes—trembling—still pointing his katana at him. “I know how seductive he can be. Skeeter thinks he knows so much about the business world and you may think he knows about money and getting accounts or whatnot… But he is treacherous!”
“Okay Tim, calm down. I believe you,” said Jamir, trying desperately to win over his favor.
Tim the Printer Guy was surprised by Jamir’s belief in him. “You do?” he asked, gingerly.
“Sure, I can tell that you are worked up by it.”
Relief started to wave through Tim’s chest and he was again at awe with the Adonis’ beauty. “Can I sketch you?” he asked.
Jamir’s face became a bit red. “What?” he asked.
“I want to show you what I can do,” said Tim. “I am an artist, so I should make a piece of art for you.” He took out his sketchpad from his bag and opened it to a blank page.
Jamir was not tied up but he was still too afraid to move. Tim somehow began to sketch his likeness with one hand, while the other still grasped the sword. This moment was just like a fantasy! Tim the Printer Guy quickly etched out the contours of his body, as he would do many times before. Through each picture, captured on his phone, Tim had memorized the shape of each Adonis. This was what he dreamed of, being in front of the men he cherished, and showing them his prowess. Finally, Jamir was going to see what he instilled within Tim the Printer Guy.
A few minutes passed, then the pencil stopped and Tim turned the finished portrait. It was a likeness so accurate and detailed that Jamir’s jaw dropped.
“Wow Tim, that is actually really good!” exclaimed the Adonis.
Tim blushed. “Oh it is nothing,” he muttered, through a big smile.
“Why don’t you do something with art instead of printers?”
“Thank you for thinking that I could be an artist, but I have had a long battle with that dream and I came to the conclusion that…” Tim stopped momentarily and looked again at his drawing of Jamir. The wispy, graphite lines that made up each curve and detail, along with the flirtatious glance that Tim had given his subject, started to ignite the passions once more. Maybe it was possible again to dream and to fulfill his fantasies. An Adonis had given him a compliment, and shown Tim the Printer Guy that he could bring beauty into this world.
“The conclusion of what?” asked Jamir.
Tim snapped out of the thought. “I uh… I just need to go outside and get some air,” he said, while setting the drawing down on Jamir's lap. “Please don’t go anywhere I… will be right back.” He went outside, still holding his katana and sat down on the steps.
Tim the Printer Guy had come back to save Jamir from ProSales, yet it was becoming certain that he was the one who needed to be saved. Though he could not trust that Skeeter would continue to treat the Adonis with fairness, Tim could trust that Jamir was smart enough to leave if the situation called for it. Maybe this was all for nothing—the sword and the anger. Tim the Printer Guy just had to let all of that go and focus on himself—on his dream. Just as he was about to go back inside there was a slight vibration in his pocket.
It was the Jitterbug phone, with an unfamiliar number on the screen. Tim picked it up and heard his father’s voice.
“Is this Tim?” asked Miyamoto.
“Father? Yes, it's me!”
There was a foreboding pause followed by a nervous cough. “I… I need to tell you about your mother,” His father said softly.
Tim stood up, sensing the worry in his trembling voice. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“This morning she fell to the floor and…” he paused again. “Your mother is no longer with us, Tim. She has moved on to the world of our ancestors.”
Tim the Printer Guy started to cry and scream. He instantly dropped his phone, as his whole body became numb. The air around him was heavy, wrapping around his chest and squeezing out every ounce of breath. Tim finally collapsed to the ground, as the tears blinded him. Each scream was followed by another—desperate to release the pain, which overwhelmed him. There could not be life without his mother, and with how he left their relationship, Tim was paralyzed with regret. He picked up the phone again.
“Father?” Tim begged through the tears. “Tell me everything! Was she ashamed of me?”
There was no response. All Tim the Printer Guy could hear was the sound of breathing—perhaps a faint cry. Miyamoto then gave another awkward cough and said, “do not let this come between your training Tim. I just wanted you to know.”
Tim’s father then hung up the phone, leaving Tim breathless. He gripped the katana again, and returned to his feet. All the denial and sadness instantly vanished as anger filled every crevasse of his heart. Tim the Printer Guy slumped over to the front door of the apartment and heard some faint whisper inside. With a newfound strength he busted down the door and found Jamir talking on a cell phone.
“Please, he is armed and extremely dangerous,” Jamir said to an unknown entity.
“What are you doing?” questioned Tim, still red in the face.
“Tim, I… what happened to you?”
“You were calling the police on me,” said Tim the Printer Guy. “I thought you understood me! You lie again, you swine!” Tim raised Shinayaka Shojo over the Adonis’ head.
Jamir cowered and screamed, “No, Tim please no!”
As the blade hovered over Jamir, Tim the Printer Guy caught a glimpse of all that rage. His reflection again showed him the ugliness of hate. Like poison, it infected Tim’s body and controlled his every move—every thought. An indiscretion such as this was unforgivable, and Tim the Printer Guy knew Jamir should not be the one to suffer.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
“No!” Tim shouted at himself. “I can’t—not you!”
“Calm down,” shouted Jamir. “What happened out there?”
There was only one person on Tim’s mind that he could go to and purge all of the hate from his soul. Skeeter was still back at the office, like an anchor in the water—keeping Tim stagnant.
“I missed my life, and I was taken from my mother and it is all his fault!” Tim the Printer Guy shouted.
“Who’s fault?” asked Jamir.
Tim ran out of the apartment and down the stairs, towards the car.
“Wait, Tim! Where are you going?” Jamir screamed from a far.
The car started up and the Adonis watched as Tim the Printer Guy sped out of the parking lot and haphazardly down the street. With all of his rage and depression he swerved all around.
“So many promises and nothing!” Tim screamed in the air. “He took my dream and used it for himself. He wants me so bad, well, here I come!”
The car roared and swerved passed all the gremlins on the road. Tim’s eyes were almost glued to the windshield, though as he quickly glanced down, he noticed that the car was in fact low on fuel. Jamir was right, and if Tim the Printer Guy was going to face Skeeter, he needed to get some gas first. He saw the gas station that Jamir pointed out earlier, and pulled up to one of the pumps. Panic soon overwhelmed Tim as he realized that he did not have any money. He sifted through each compartment of the car, hoping to find that Jamir had left Skeeter’s corporate gas card somewhere, but there was no luck.
Tim the Printer Guy then looked at the station itself. He had to reason with just one of the employees and get them to fill him up free of charge—Tim was desperate! He ran into the station, sweating profusely and red in the face.
“Listen!” Tim shouted. “I need some gas. No time to explain, but…” Tim the Printer Guy’s jaw hit the floor as he saw who was behind the counter.
There was a tall figure, with his back turned, hunched over, and whose head was wrapped in bandages.
“You came!” exclaimed Tim the Printer Guy, beaming with excitement. “Please, Bandaged Cage, you need to guide me. I need to stop Skeeter!”
The figure turned and Tim watched in horror as the face revealed itself to be none other than that of Adem.
“No, it can’t be,” Tim gasped, taking steps away from his presence. “It was you all along. Bandaged Cage is you! How is this possible?!”
“Holy shit, you are the guy that attacked me!” shouted Adem.
“The bandages…” Tim muttered still in awe of this revelation.
“Yeah I am still healing you crazy jackass, you were clawing at my head!” shouted the swine. “You got to leave, or I am calling the cops!”
That comment sent Tim the Printer Guy down a spiral of anger. Was it Adem all along, posing as his spiritual, or mental guide? Tim’s father told him that he thought the bandaged Cage was nothing more than a hallucination, but there was a large part of Tim that believed he was still something more. If it was Adem, then perhaps he had manipulated Tim to the most heinous degree, infecting his inner, most precious thoughts. Adem was controlling his mind!
As the demon reached over to a deskphone on the countertop, Tim sprung into action. He swatted the phone away from Adem’s slimy grasp and pushed him back.
“You will not stop me!” Tim screamed. “The Adonises must be protected!”
“Holy shit!” Adem remarked while pressing a hidden button beneath the countertop.
Tim the Printer Guy gave him a strong slap against the side of his face, just to taunt his opponent. “C’mon,” he said. “Fight me!”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” yelled Adem.
“I care too much!” exclaimed Tim. “You were always too lazy and selfish to understand, but those Adonises who had graced the PaperClips store are too good for a life of dullness. I am the only one who can stop that evil!”
Adem raised his hands up, as if he was already surrendering. “Listen man, I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about! I mean, Jesus Christ, please just leave me alone!”
“Hah!” Tim the Printer Guy scoffed. “Your Hebrew deity will not save you now!” He readied another attack, raising his arm high above his head, when out of the corner of his eye, a police car could be seen approaching the pumps.
Tim realized that he had no time to waste on Adem. Skeeter was still the mastermind of it all—the prime evil. With the cops on their way, Tim the Printer Guy had to prioritize his every move.
“God dammit! I thought I wouldn't have to see you again,” said Adem, cowardly crouching behind the counter.
“I will come back for you!” Tim shouted, dropping his fighting stance and hastily bolting out the door.
As the police were closing in, Tim managed to hop into the driver’s seat and turn the ignition. He drove off, just as the cop car pulled into the station. Though he was still low on gas, Tim just had to get as close to the office as possible. As he drove away from Adem and the gas station, he noticed that the police were not following him. He evaded them for now.
* * *
After more rage-fueled driving, Tim the Printer Guy found himself right outside of the ProSales office. Shinayaka Shojo was gleaming by his side, as the sun began to poke out from the clouds. The car’s tank was practically empty, so leaving the parking lot was out of the question. Tim had to finish this once and for all.
He opened the door and got out. The sun felt warm on his skin, and for a moment Tim the Printer Guy felt an embrace of love and forgiveness. Redemption had almost slipped into the realm of the impossible. Throughout it all, Tim did not give up on what he loved and what gave him the satisfaction of being loved. His dreams and passions had been used to manipulate him, while he hopelessly clung to the belief that the pain in his life was temporary. It was at this moment, Tim the Printer Guy realized that beauty would not just fall into his lap again. He had to protect what he had and take out the main cause of his torment.
Skeeter could be seen through the window, fumbling through papers. It was just a typical day that Tim knew quite well—as his so-called, “boss,” would sporadically run through accounts just to feel busy. Again, there was the desire to go in and just quickly end it all, but the necessity for a slowly thoughtful confrontation outweighed that. Tim the Printer Guy gripped his sword tight and, with more confidence he ever thought he had, strolled up to the door. Entering the office, Tim heard nothing but Skeeter talking with someone on the phone. He seemed stressed out, frantically apologizing to whoever was on the line.
“I am sorry, but you got to look at the bigger picture! I know that we haven’t been out to your store as much as we want, but there are some huge programs and opportunities that you are going to miss out on—and we are going to fix the scheduling and get someone out to your store as soon as possible. We just hired a lot of new people who are excited to train your employees,” Skeeter shouted, before he paused for a moment. “Mr. Gunter… Hello? Fuck!” he slammed the phone on the table and threw his head into his hands.
Tim the Printer Guy slowly opened the door to his office, and Skeeter looked up.
“Tim, what are you doing here?” asked Skeeter.
“Aren’t you glad to see me,” said Tim, with a wide-eyed, wild look.
“What? I can’t…” Skeeter stuttered. “Is that a sword?”
Tim the Printer Guy raised his weapon. “This is Shinayaka Shojo, a gift from my ancestors. You have been nothing but a menace to me, and I need to free myself.”
“Whoa, whoa,” Skeeter jumped up from his chair, and raised his hand up to try and block Tim. “What are you going to do with that?”
“Something I was too afraid to do before, but it is the only way… I realize that now,” Tim took a big swipe at Skeeter with the katana.
He missed, and Skeeter ran out and around him, leaving the room. Tim the Printer Guy went after him, swinging the sword around, yet missing each time, as his target was quite slippery. The two men jumped around the front lobby of the office. Tim kept swinging but all he was able to hit was the demotivational posters that hung on the wall. Skeeter dodged every attempt and tried to hide behind the old printers and chairs that were all around the room.
“Look, Tim, if this is about me not paying you… I told you we will fix that!” Skeeter whined.
“You have never paid me!”
“C’mon, I gave you that apartment and that car! You are being really ungrateful,” Skeeter nervously spouted. He desperately tried to maintain control; however, Tim the Printer Guy's rage heightened with each miss.
“Stay still, you jerk!” Tim shouted. “I just want you out of my life!”
Skeeter got around the printer guy again, but he was instantly cornered. Tim raised the sword once more, casting a large shadow upon the man who caused him so much pain. As he was about to give the final strike, someone shouted from behind.
“Drop the weapon!” a police officer exclaimed, pointing a gun at Tim.
With one swoop, Tim the Printer Guy grabbed Skeeter with his arm and thrusted him out in front, pressing the blade against his throat.
“You make one move and I kill him!” screamed Tim.
“Okay,” the officer said, while holding his hands up—trying to calm the situation. “Easy now… Why don’t you tell me what is going on here? What is your name?”
“Tim…” the printer guy huffed.
“Okay, Tim, what has got you so worked up today?” asked the officer.
“You are too late,” said Tim, trying to hold back tears. “This man will die!”
“No!” the officer yelled. “Please, we don’t want that.”
“Just shoot this fat idiot!” Skeeter choked out.
A small moment of silence passed, and Tim noticed that the officer was growing more tense. He regained the grip on his gun and pointed it back at the two of them.
“Look, we can work this out, I don’t want to hurt you,” said the officer.
“Enough!” Tim shouted, before slicing Skeeter’s neck, and kicking him towards the officer.
Blood spewed out of the wound and Skeeter fell lifeless to the floor. In an instant, the officer pulled the trigger and Tim the Printer Guy closed his eyes, anticipating the sweet release of death. He would see his mother again, and finally apologize to her. This was to be Tim’s redemption…
A loud pop came out of the gun, but there was nothing. Tim opened his eyes and was aghast at the sight of Bandaged Cage, standing between him and the police officer.
“Adem?” Tim the Printer Guy queeried, as his eyes adjusted to the flash of the pistol.
Bandaged Cage, covered in the wispy, thin gunsmoke turned around to face Tim and began to unravel the bandages around his head. Tim the Printer Guy gasped at the sight of a huge gash through his face.
“No Tim-san, it is me,” the bandaged Cage spoke, softly.
Tears filled Tim’s eyes as he smiled wide. “You are real!” he exclaimed.
The police officer was left speechless and frightened. He shot at the spector once more, but the gun did nothing. Bandaged Cage turned back towards the officer, showing his bloody, scarred face. The wound covered the entire top half of his head and at an angle, sliced through his eyes and down his left cheek.
“Holy shit!” the officer exclaimed before running out of the building. “I need backup!” he yelled into his radio.
“What do we do now?” Tim asked his savior, who wrapped his head back up. Bandaged Cage was emanating a brilliant light. He wore a bright yukata kimono, which was yellow and light-blue. It reminded Tim of what his mother would wear during the spring. Cherry blossoms fell from the sky, as the anxiety and pain throughout Tim the Printer Guy’s body faded away. Instead, there was ecstasy all around him as Skeeter’s deep crimson blood started to pool out onto the floor and stain the gray, drab carpet. It reminded him of Red Flow Lake and transported Tim back to the summer days of his youth.
There was instant warmth, and a buzzing sensation filling the entirety of his body. The Doctor could not even give him this feeling. It was as if every drug that Tim had taken in the past, which dulled his mind, or possessed him with creativity, was amplified to a certain degree thought to be impossible. Tim the Printer Guy twirled around in Skeeter’s blood and could see each Adonis look at him with their angelic faces—smiling one by one. They represented everything: Mikeal’s beauty, Octavian’s strength, Jamir’s urge to obtain knowledge, and the innocence of Cage who was like a raw cherub, unsoiled by the grime of society. He had done everything for them and they were finally grateful—finally at peace. Then Tim saw his mother, gleaming with pride, who extended a hand to him. Her kimono fluttered in the breeze, as she smiled and pulled Tim the Printer Guy into her arms.
They embraced tightly, then looking up to him, she said, “You can rest now, my plum. We are all safe.”
This was what it felt like to be free.