Fiction Friday: There Was Something Wrong...

He looked askance at the world. His incantations had thus far proved to be of no avail. It was just as he had made it. He couldn't unmake the change. When he'd first unearthed the Transcendant Grimoire from its hidden place, buried beneath the stacks in the BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH, BLAH! SAME FUCKING BULLSHIT AS ALWAYS, I hate this story already. Fuck it.

There was something the wrong with the world, and he couldn't put his finger on it. What, like maybe the world was a lie, pulled over his eyes to hide the truth that he couldn't accept, that he was a fucking BATTERY? Nice! Real original. FUCK IT.

He had been stationed for only two weeks on Worldcore One - the experimental United Nations permanent research and monitoring station anchored on the underside of the planet's crust (not, as its name would indicate, near the planet's core - but rather, fixed in place beneath the Antarctic Plate, just two miles South of the Antarctic-Nazca join, burrowed up and into the crust and extruding into the mantle) - and already it seemed to him that there was something very wrong. Like maybe, too much boring-ass gibberdy-jib exposition?

Fuck. It.

He sat drinking a beer, his third, waiting by a phone that never much rang. He stank, but only a little. He didn't really feel a great need to shower on days he missed work, unless he had plans to go out. It had been about five days. He was on vacation. He'd had plans. Plans he'd been looking forward to every day for the past six weeks. But they fell through at the last minute - which had given him a headache. The pain was almost gone now. He wondered whether he should just go back in to work early, at this point. If so, he'd definitely shower. His mental state was good; strong. He found himself peering through the angled gaps in the venetian blinds without touching them, trying to see who that was outside. There was motion. Were they coming to the door? No. No, they were going away. If they came back, he would be ready. If not...their loss. He pulled his boxer's waistband pretty far out and surveyed the general contents of that area. Hm. Pretty sexy! He practiced aloud what he might say if the phone rang. Nothing came to mind. He had no idea who would even be calling at this point. Everyone thought he was out of town, except the one person who knew why he wasn't.

BO-RING!!! Shit!

Okay, that's enough Fiction Friday. See us again, with another thrilling installment!