Tim the Printer Guy was out in the parking lot, looking up at the PaperClips Office Supply. Clouds formed across the sky, covering the sun’s intense rays with a gray mask. Frogs, awakened by the overcast, began a symphony of croaks that added to the diverse chatter of insects swarming a nearby bog. Dark clouds formed and brought a clap of thunder, which tickled the ground and signaled the downfall of rain. Sparse at first, the rain soon unloaded a heavy pour as gallons of water washed away the grime from the streets, and stripped away the painted lines that finely sectioned off the parking spaces. Tim got out of his car and continued to stare at the illuminated PaperClips sign—a vibrant rose peeking out from a desolate wasteland. The Adonises were waiting, and Tim was anxious to make their acquaintance.
He walked in, and—despite being drenched by the rain—stood tall with a face frozen in a smile, determined to win over whomever was working today. Standing at the counter was the mighty Adonis of strength, Octavian, looking down at his phone. Seeing him brought a flurry of emotion, as the last time Tim the Printer Guy had the pleasure of his presence was while he bled at his feet. Now, he restlessly thumbed through his phone screen, looking bored; the rain had its way of scaring off possible customers. This freed Octavian from the gremlins and allowed him to bathe in the light of Tim’s attention.
“Hello, Octavian…” Tim said, anxious to see whether or not he would recount the incident at the gym.
“Oh hey Tim,” Octavian said, looking up at his face intently. “You look better since the last time I saw you.”
He was kind to say that, filling Tim the Printer Guy’s heart with mending warmth. “Oh, well, yeah I had some time to recover. The bruising went away pretty fast.”
“That is good, I am so sorry about that again. I asked those guys to leave just so you know.”
“You are too kind.” Tim the Printer Guy blushed a small amount, and felt a swirl in stomach—giddy nerves.
“Listen, if you ever want to come back to the gym, you are always still cool to apply for membership,” Octavian said.
“I don’t think that place is right for me. Too many gremlins,” Tim said, rolling his eyes in the matter of a sarcastic quip.
Octavian made an awkward grin and gave a small chuckle, pretending that he understood Tim’s humor even though he did not know for sure if it was some sort of joke. “Heh… yeah I guess…”
“So who is on tap for today?!” Tim the Printer Guy asked, energetically changing the subject.
“It’s just me, Mikeal and Cage today.”
“Oh, so no Jamir. You are again manning the store?”
“He’s off, and I don’t have a shift at the gym today.”
“... and Adem, where is he?”
“Day off, I guess.”
Tim let out a sigh of relief. “Oh great!”
Octavian, who noticed this clear disdain for his coworker, asked, “Is there something wrong with Adem?”
Tim continued, ignoring the Adonis's concern. “Well, it must feel good to get away from him. I know I can’t bear the sight.”
Octavian widened his eyes. “I don’t have any problem with him personally. If there is anything that he did to you, just let me know and I can have a word with him.”
Tim the Printer Guy was confused. “He is an oni…” he whispered faintly, wondering if the Adonises were even aware of Adem’s menacing influence.
“What was that?”
“He… uh,” Tim cleared his throat, “told me that he was fed up with the courses and that he did not want to do them.”
“The ProSales courses? I am sorry, that does not sound like him.”
“He is lazy, and, frankly, tries to drag the rest of you down,” Tim added.
“I am actually shocked by this,” Octavian said.
“Well, what do you expect from someone of his background?”
“Background?”
Tim the Printer Guy leaned in, triggering Octavian’s nose with the pungent scent of sink sludge. “Being that he is a Jew,” he whispered.
Octavian’s eyes opened wide, startled by Tim’s statement. “Is that a problem?” he asked.
“Jews are an agonizing sort,” said Tim, now comfortable to let loose his anti-semetic ideals. “They think that they can play with the system.”
“Adem is not Jewish,” Octavian said.
“Don’t be silly. I know one when I see one. Just look at the nose!” Tim couldn’t help but laugh.
“No, he is not,” Octavian said calmly, “but I am.”
Tim the Printer Guy recoiled back as his face drained of blood. His chest seized up, feeling as though a demon was grabbing a hold of his lungs. “You are?” he asked.
“Since the time I was born.” Octavian said, obviously angry but restraining himself.
“I… would not have guessed,” Tim stuttered.
“Because I don't have the right nose?”
Tim was at a loss for words as he just stood in total shock. This was an Adonis before him, whom Tim had offended with his hateful slander. For years he’d regarded the Jews as treacherous people who lie and steal, and yet one of them was so enticing to Tim that hearing this revelation made those previous assumptions wash away with guilt. The two just stood there, looking at one another in absolute silence.
“Look,” Octavian began with a deep breath, “if you have this prejudice towards Jews, then I don’t think we can work around each other anymore…”
“No!” Tim shouted as he panicked to salvage this moment. “I don’t care about any of that, I was just trying to be funny! A joke, nothing more but a joke, you got to believe me!”
Octavian raised his eyebrow. “Okay, but you have to understand how that would make me uncomfortable,” he said.
It seemed as though an internal crisis was brewing in Tim the Printer Guy’s mind; whether or not Octavian possessed Jewish blood, the thought of losing the friendship of such a beautiful soul was too dreadful. Tim felt, at that moment, that he would do anything to take back what he just said and sort out the complicated moral dilemma later. “Believe me!” he exclaimed, feeling the heat of awkwardness burn his heart.
Octavian just stared at Tim, who appeared genuinely distraught. His face was red in embarrassment, his pores were oozing sweat, and he looked as though he was about to break down in tears. If this truly was some kind of joke, Tim the Printer Guy was showing regret—though he was stumbling through a feeble attempt to apologize.
“Alright,” Octavian said, giving Tim a suspicious glance, “I’ll take your word for it,”
A soothing sensation washed over Tim’s body, calming his heart rate a bit. “Soooo… haha, I uh…” Tim stuttered, “do you want me to talk to Cage, first?”
Octavian picked up his radio and, while not breaking a stern eye contact with Tim, said, “Hey Cage, can you come up here when you get a chance?”
Tim the Printer Guy waited as a voice chirped into the earpiece Octavian was wearing.
“He will be right up.”
A few ungodly moments went by until Cage pranced up to the counter. He also did not seem excited to see Tim the Printer Guy, who was far too eager to see him. By soiling the already fractured relationship he had with the stronger Adonis, Time felt there was a significant urgency to maintain balance with the others. Cage was the unbroken fawn—a delectable, virgin prince—who, Tim thought, he had the tightest grip on. Their interactions in the past led Tim the Printer Guy to consider Cage a ripening fruit which was begging to be plucked. Today though, Cage’s mind was elsewhere, and he was a bit annoyed that Tim the Printer Guy wanted to fill the down time brought by this slow, rainy day.
“Do I have to do some training or something?” Cage asked in huff.
“I have a lot of fun stuff to do for a rainy day, don’t you worry!”
Cage mirrored Octavian’s suspicious and uptight demeanor. The two were definitely unnerved by Tim’s awkward character, especially today.
“Okay… how long is this going to take?” asked Cage.
“Well, lucky for you, I am going to be here until close so you don’t have to worry about anything!”
Octavian’s and Cage’s eyes darted back towards each other as they felt the sting of that sentence. They were concerned, given that they didn’t know what to expect since Tim did not typically stay that long.
“You are going to be here until we close tonight?” Octavian asked, wanting to clarify this bombshell.
“Yep, so you don’t have to rush through anything. We can take it slow today,” said Tim, taking Cage under his arm and walking him to the printer section.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“What is that smell?” asked Cage, getting a whiff of Tim’s dirty, sink-water bath scent.
“That, young man, is the smell of knowledge!” Tim the Printer Guy corralled Cage into the printer section and had him open the ProSales app on his phone. They both saw the new training course pop up: “How to Sell Mobile Printers (Estimated 4 hours)”.
Cage sighed lethargically, feeling a wash of despair.
“I will stand right here and answer any questions you have!” said Tim.
“I am sure it won’t be too bad, you don’t have to watch me…”
“Nonsense, this new course could be pretty hard and I really don’t mind watching you,” Tim smiled, making Cage even more uncomfortable.
There was something intriguing about how Cage approached the ProSales learning today. A certain, hidden eagerness that used to be there was now overshadowed as Cage’s typical dry, apathetic mood became more and more present. At one point, Cage would finish a quiz in record time. He was always in a rush to answer questions and move on, but now, Cage was noticeably slow. Tim could see that his eyes were always drifting away from the screen.
“Is there anything wrong today?” Tim the Printer Guy asked.
“What?... No,” Cage said, not wanting to fully acknowledge Tim’s intrusive pecking.
“I just noticed that you seem to be taking longer to finish a course here. Typically, you are pretty fast.”
“It’s a rainy day, I guess,” said Cage, who then tried to pick up the pace.
“You do know that you can tell me everything, right? I am your printer guy,” said Tim.
“It is just work stuff, it's nothing, whatever…” Cage wanted to end Tim’s incessant prying, but his eyes were like laser beams firing into the young man’s head.
There was something clearly bothering Cage and Tim started to rack his brain over what that could be. The life was sucked out of PaperClips that day, bringing all of the aspirations for redemption to an absolute halt.
In the distance, Mikeal could be seen talking to Octavian. The two seemed to be discussing something quite paramount, as Mikeal’s face looked distraught. He waved his hands in the air in a nervous fury, yet Octavian was all the while stoic and took in each word with deep seriousness. As he responded to Mikeal, he matched the overwhelming anxiety and at points mimicked his coworker’s gestures, but stayed firm in his careful reservation.
“Yeah, I will be right back,” Tim the Printer Guy said, as he left Cage to do his courses.
While bounding closer towards Octavian and Mikeal, Tim heard an aggressive groan deep in his stomach. Why was hunger consuming him now? It swept away the possibility of a hopeful interaction and compelled Tim to find some sort of sustenance. As he stopped, a victim to the aches, he saw the two Adonises vanish into a mysterious room by the front, leaving the registers alone. There were no customers, either in the store or approaching the door. Tim the Printer Guy looked out and saw Cage occasionally glancing at his phone, as with Tim not around, he was free to stray away from the courses.
“This is a bad dream,” Tim whispered to himself.
An eerie silence filled the store, giving Tim’s hunger pains a dose of anxiety. His mind was possessed by typical worries over loneliness, inferiority, and being unloved, unneeded... There was an absence in the store, as the Adonises were nothing like what they once were. The careful consideration of products and overall tidiness was now lost, and Tim—who was already plagued by his overwhelming depression—needed to find a way to either get the love back or escape this life altogether. He made a beeline for the employee break room, hoping to find a fridge. Also, down the same hallway, was the entrance to the receiving warehouse, where shipments of all the store’s products were taken in and sorted before being placed on the shelves. It, also, was silent and dull, with many boxes left unsorted and still wrapped in cellophane, fresh off of the truck.
Tim the Printer Guy walked into the warehouse and momentarily away from his hunger to look at the high shelves and beams, lined with store products. Pallets were still full of totes, chairs, printers and non descript shipping boxes—all neglected. Tim was starting to wonder what his life was leading to. Was there any point in chasing the Adonises anymore? The act of seppuku plagued Tim for many years, and at times he would consider it, but throughout those weak moments he never actually made an attempt. This was a dark point indeed. The thought of ending it all, could, in Tim’s mind, perhaps rescue any small chance for honorable redemption. Though Tim the Printer Guy’s father taught him the proper way—of cutting open his stomach with a short blade—there was also the high shelving that brought thoughts of hanging till death.
“No, I just need to eat and steady my nerves,” Tim the Printer Guy whispered to himself to break from the depressive, suicidal thoughts.
He ran back into the hallway and found the break room. There, a fridge was waiting for him, filled with sustenance—Mikeal, Octavian, and Cage all had their lunches in individual bags for the day. The bags were all opened a little, and it was clear that they had all taken their lunch earlier in the day, but Tim noticed that each Adonis had left some bits and snacks to come back to. There were crackers, some chips, granola bars, and bags of fruit, which tempted Tim to dive in, though if he gave in, it would mean stealing from the men he so desired.
“What are you doing, Tim?” he said to himself, voicing his inner thoughts. “Take them. They do not care for you? Did you see how they left you alone and do not show you any respect?”. He picked up Octavian’s bag, which was full of bags of fruit. “I shouldn’t touch this… it has a Jewish scent…” Tim muttered, “but it’s Octavian! Jew or not, he is an Adonis. You care for him, he protects you…”
Tim motioned to throw it in the trash, but stopped abruptly and just stared at the name written on the bag. He had angered Octavian today, and now he was going to destroy his belongings all because of his heritage? This was not the sort of person Tim wanted to be, nor the person he already thought he was. No matter what he thought about his life and about Jews, he could not take out his anger in the Adonises. Their abstract beauty gave him an escape from the dullness, and from the systematic brutality of Skeeter and the corporate world.
They were the only ones that Tim could remember being nice to him, and they just gave him so much inspiration to paint—without them, he struggled to find the way back to his creativity. If he turned on them now, he would destroy any chance he had at happiness. The dream of becoming an artist would die, and so Tim the Printer Guy would die as well.
“I know right!”
A voice from down the hall was heard. Mikeal and Octavian were approaching, still locked in their conversation from before. Tim panicked, dropped Octavian’s lunch bag on the table, and looked around for anywhere to hide. There—a janitor's closet just off to the side. Tim the Printer Guy ran in, just in time to avoid the Adonises as they entered the room.
“It is just baffling! They make us do all this shit for nothing,” exclaimed Mikeal, stomping through the room.
“Yeah I get that,” Octavian responded. “If we were paid a fair wage, I think it would be worth the extra little responsibilities.”
“Well, it is just like, why would you expect people like Cage or myself to be doing all the things that a manager should do without extra pay?”
“It's because they just want to have someone at the store, talking to all the customers, stocking the shelves, and dealing with any sales or price discrepancies while they just sit at home and make their salary.”
“I work here so many hours, it seems like I have no time for anything else!” Mikeal massaged his temple, tormented by needless stress. “The pay is so low that I am losing money just working here. I have to spend every ounce of my earnings on gas and essentials, there is just no point.”
“We both have just reached our limit here and need to find something else. I have been taking more shifts at the gym, and it’s been really nice getting away from retail.”
“Would you want to eventually be a full time trainer there?” Mikeal asked.
“Yeah, if not there than somewhere else,” Octavian exhaled, which had a way of calming Mikeal as well. “The point is, I have to start on that path now. I like working here with all of you guys, but I need to start working towards something I want to do for a long time.”
“You’re right, I shouldn’t really complain too much,” said Mikeal. “This just gives me more reasons to leave, and I feel like I have been here long enough. Racquel has been wanting me to leave because we want to eventually move in together. That would be impossible to do if I kept this job.”
“Do you know what you want to do?” Octavian asked.
“I definitely know the things I like to do, I just don’t know what kind of job or career is best.”
“I get that, you just got to go out and try things, eventually you will find something,” said Octavian. “By the way, how was the lake with Racquel? I forgot to ask you about it.”
“It was good, but weird story though…” Mikeal smirked.
Tim the Printer Guy was holding his breath as the Adonis of beauty said those words. If the bandaged Cage was right, then he would have not recognized Tim through the makeup.
“So we were at the house, just coming back from the lake,” Mikeal began, “and it was around 8 o’clock, so the sun was down. I heard all this barking coming from the back yard, then Racquel called and said that she thought someone was out there, so I went out to check.”
Tim the Printer Guy felt the physical pain creep back into his sinuses. It was more excruciating than ever, now that he did not have any medication left. There was a searing pressure that filled his eyes and nose, which forced Tim to put his hands over his face. He covered his ears, and tried to muffle the sound of Mikeal’s story. Tim felt that by not hearing it, the pain would stop, though it just intensified as he could still hear Mikeal’s words, which penetrated his mind.
“I look out into the backyard and I see the neighbor’s dog barking at this kind of big shadow,” Mikeal continued, “but I couldn’t see what it was.”
The pain stopped for a moment. Space and time started to slow as Tim awaited to hear the conclusion.
“Racquel said it looked like a person in some kind of dress,” added Mikeal, “and as I walked up to it, it just ran away and jumped the fence.”
“That’s insane!” said Octavian.
“Yeah, I couldn’t see who or what it was though. It happened really quick.”
The pain began to fade, and Tim the Printer Guy let out a relaxed and satisfactory moan, relieved that his cover was not blown.
“What was that?” asked Octavian, cutting Mikeal off.
“I don’t know,” said Mikeal. “Probably the plumbing in this place. Let me finish my story.”
Octavian ignored Tim's throaty whine and focused back on Mikeal, who was eager to tell him the ending.
“I opened the door and sitting on the edge of the grass was a sword.”
“What?” Octavian asked.
“Yeah, like one of those Japanese looking ones. I can’t remember the name,” said Mikeal.
“So a person was in your backyard and dropped a sword?” Octavian asked, trying to sum it all up.
“I don’t know, maybe some lunatic was around the lake or something. I will have to show you some time,” said Mikeal.
“You still have it?”
“What am I going to do, throw it away?” Mikeal asked. “It’s pretty cool!”
“I need to see that,” said Octavian.
Just then, Tim could hear Cage enter the room in a panic of some sort.
“Hey, that guy is back!” he huffed.
“The Shudnow guy?” asked a discouraged Mikeal. “I am not helping him again.”
“I thought we told him to leave?” asked Octavian.
“Well he never gets the message,” Mikeal groaned. “What are we supposed to do, call the cops?”
“He is just asking for a tech again and I don’t know what to tell him,” said Cage, equally as frustrated.
“Why don’t we just stay back and wait for him to leave?” asked Mikeal.
Octavian took a slow breath and exhaled loudly, silencing the other two. “I will go and talk with him again. We will see if we can get him to leave.”
The three Adonises walked out of the breakroom, leaving Tim the Printer Guy alone again. He burst out of the janitor’s closet and toppled on the floor.
“This job is killing them,” Tim said to himself, feeling his heart beat race again, forcing him to pace around the room.
The Adonises were unhappy with PaperClips and falling down a hole of professional woe and despair—this was something Tim the Printer Guy was all too familiar with. He wanted more than anything to escape the corporate machine, but leaving was not an option—at least, not one that Tim could see. For now, he was bound to servitude and accepted that there was currently no solution to his sadness, but why should the Adonises live the same way when their beauty was so great? Surely, they needed nothing more than to go out into the world, find new opportunities, and excel in the fields that they found worthwhile.
But what about Tim? He had found his shangri-la—a wonderful palace that brought him much needed joy and serenity. If they left, he would have nothing to keep him in this world. Was it selfish to feel that? If Tim was going to be happy, the Adonises must stay with him. They seemed desperate to leave the store, but Tim the Printer Guy remembered how they’d responded to their retail duties with positivity in the past They must have some feeling and love for what they did, and finding a way to keep them around would not be a disservice to them, but a helpful slap back to reality. If Tim found a way to alleviate some tension around the workplace, would they feel more inclined to stay?
Tim the Printer Guy felt his hunger pains wash away as he breathed slowly and centered his soul. He thought about the anxiety caused by the possibility of the Adonises leaving, but it was this additional thought of giving them help that provided him with inner peace. As he now saw it, the ProSales training was secondary to the strife of the average, workplace ailments. Tim ran down the hall and out of the employee break room, to find the Adonises talking to a gaunt, fish faced man.