Continuing on from my previous post, I’m pretty certain an unnamed soul gave me a “look” earlier today. Sure, he wasn’t ever actually with in line of sight (or 10kms) of me… but I felt it deep in the “look” sensing portions of the cockles of my heart… or just slightly to the left of them anyway.
Sufficed to say, it warranted retribution in the form of some 1980’s style interactive fiction. Take that oh barer of.. err… looks?:
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The world begins as a painful dark place with loud headache inducing noises from all directions. Gravity seems to right itself and you notice that your eyes are closed.
> Open eyes
You squint against the impossibly bright and blurry world. The noise just won’t stop. All around you indistinct shapes mutter and moan. You raise your hand wearily to shield your eyes from the barrage of light and slowly things begin to focus.
> Look around
It appears to be an office of some sort. Pastel colours and plastics gently define the outline of cubicles in every direction.
All around you, people are staring in your direction. A general sense of fear or apprehension seems to present.
Other senses are starting to alert you to their presence as the body compiles its own little checklist of your state of health.
Extreme pins and needles in various limbs. Apparently where ever you had been, it wasn’t good for the circulation.
Dry cracked lips and gritty bits of sleep in the eyes. Oh well, if nothing else, at least you seemed to have slept well.
A disturbingly cool breeze washes across your body.
> Look at body
Naked. Naked and covered in some sort of grime.
Well that explains the general look of fear in the surrounding populace.
Some sort of covering would be a good investment at this point?
> Look on floor
You seem to be standing in the middle of a rather nasty collection of stains on the carpet. None of them seem to be blood coloured so there’s a good chance you can ignore them until some later point.
Just beyond the perimeter of the stains is a traffic cone, a name badge and what you can only guess was once the greater half of a hamburger and milkshake meal.
> Pick up and wear traffic cone
Mustering what you inwardly congratulate yourself with as an amazing amount of dignity for a gritty nude man in the middle of a crowded office, you meekly lean forward, retrieve the traffic cone and place it over your nether regions.
It’s at this point that you discover one of life’s more obscure lessons: there’s really no way for a nude person to ‘wear’ a traffic cone without it looking like an obscene homage to an oversized novelty codpiece.
As any hope of dignity has now safely drifted well out beyond reach, it might be worth investigating the wider world and seeing if there’s some explanation or escape from this little… situation.
> Pick up and read name badge
Another life lesson presents itself in quick succession after the last. There’s a very good reason why one never sees examples of Greek statues portraying someone attempting to pick up something off the ground whilst protecting their modesty with a traffic cone.
A collective wave of groans washes forward from the crowd in response to both your first attempt at picking up the badge… and the second attempt that, unlike the first, didn’t involve a rather nasty hernia testing entanglement with the traffic cone, your body and the floor… but did dramatically expand the number of people in the world who now have what could be described as ‘medical’ understanding of your body’s less popular bits.
(It would be later revealed that this was the exact moment that no less that a dozen witnesses suddenly decided to become vegetarians, three changed religions, two changed sexual preferences and at least one person developed a life long facial twitch every time they heard the word ‘tripod’.)
You read the name on the badge. You read it again. And again.
Just when you’re about to read it once more to confirm what your eyes are telling you, a very nervous looking man interrupts you with his best liturgical effects at a calming motion.
He clears his throat, steadies a few of his more prominent nervous twitches and wobbles and squeaks "Excuse me? Yes. Umm. Hello. My name is Jenkins. Arthur Jenkins. I’m.. um.. the office manager."
Arthur begins to reach out to begin a handshake before realising your hands are already full and whips his hand back in twitchy unconsciously over dramatic way.
A nervous cough before a studied fixation on his feet and "I.. I mean we… I mean I… were wondering if there’s anything we could.. umm… help you.. umm… with?"
> Say ‘Yes’ to Arthur
"I see you’ve recovered your name badge then" blurts Arthur in an attempt to bond with you… or at least lessen the chances of you spontaneously combusting if the amount of nervous sweat pouring off him is anything to go by.
"If you don’t mind" Arthur continues "I’ve taken the liberty of calling some people in to… umm…. assist you."
Three very large men in uniforms appear seemingly on all sides at once.
"Don’t worry" soothes one of the very large men, "we’ll soon have you all safe and sound in your very own room. Doesn’t that sound good…", he looks at the name badge held in gripped tightly in your hand, "Mr Banks?"
