A Tantalizing Tangent: Day 9

I can't help myself! (9,312 / 1,000,000)

“Next!” Tara shouted over her steaming cup of ginger tea. Her glasses rested low on her nose, brow furrowed in a tired frown. She sat at a small, wobbly desk, resting her elbows on a chipped mahogany veneer surface. The windowless room was far too cramped for her comfort; the lights flickered, and it smelled like gouda cheese for some reason. The boss really needed to free up some of the budget for her department, she thought, as she set her mug down. The door across the room from her creaked open slowly, and the crooked tip of a pointed grey hat poked through the opening. As the door swung wider, Tara saw the hat sat atop a tangled web of long grey hair, underneath which a pair of blue eyes glinted behind half-moon spectacles.

“What are you supposed to be, dirtier Gandalf?” Tara asked, before the man was halfway through the door. The man froze in the doorway, clearly startled at getting such treatment. Now standing in the open doorway, his gaze drifted slowly to his extremely tattered grey cloak, and then over to his right hand which grasped a worn wooden staff. His eyes drifted slowly back up to meet Tara’s, a single tear rolling down his creased cheek. “Next!” Tara shouted in the same tired voice. She knew she needed to get the boss a homerun character if she wanted a corner office with a real mahogany desk.

The wizened old man was still tottering in the doorway when the bottom of his cloak billowed upward suddenly. A small boy, no taller than knee height to the off-brand Dumbledore, darted into the room between the man’s legs, scrambling on all fours. Without hesitation, he leaped to his feet, and burst into song. He had a clear voice, and accompanied his song with a jovial little dance. “Hmm, I like the enthusiasm,” Tara was muttering to herself under her breath, “yeah, I think we can work with that”. Now aloud, she said “Okay kid, take this paper, sign here and here, and initial here”. She proffered a piece of paper which was entirely blank, seemingly pointing to random places on the page as she spoke. She offered no pen. “Take that with you through there, and wait,” she gestured to one of the three blank walls which did not contain the entry door. The child’s initial confidence was replaced by a look of confusion, before a small brass doorknob jutted suddenly from the wall to his right. Taking the paper, his affable grin returned, and he jaunted over to the door and twisted the knob. A portion of the wall, exactly the boys height, swung open easily with his pull.

As the wall swung open, the hushed whispers of thousands of voices began pouring out of the opening. The boy stood in the opening, gazing in terror and confusion at a vast and featureless void. He turned and looked back at Tara, clearly frightened. “Please, put us in a story, we’re interesting characters!” one of the whispered voices cut through the others. Tara gave the boy a disingenuous smile, and a little thumbs-up. He paused for a moment, then stepped into the opening. The door slammed shut behind him, and the doorknob and door seam disappeared. The old man still stood in the doorway, a look of abject horror on his wizened face. His panicked eyes darted back and forth between the wall where the boy had disappeared and Tara. Finally, he whipped around and fled the way he had come.

“Next!” she called again. Each “next!” was identical in tone and volume to the last, something that Tara prided herself on. The door, still resting slightly ajar from the flight of the milquetoast Merlin, swung completely open. Filling the entire doorframe was a portly man. The more Tara took in, the more bewildered she became. The man wore a backwards ball cap, even though he was far too old to pull it off. His chubby cheeks surrounded an easy, confident smile. His bright red jersey with a faded number 12 emblazoned on the front was far too big for him, despite his size. His camo cargo shorts, pockets stuffed full of unknown supplies, were matched by his camo crocs. Yes, of course he was wearing ankle-high tube socks with those. Tara slowly stood, the same look of bewilderment plastered on her face. After a few moments, her face broke into a genuine smile, and she beckoned animatedly. “Yes! You’re perfect! Get in here, sign this, and go go go!”. She practically threw the paper at him, it twisted in the air, landing only a few feet from her desk. She reached behind her head and pulled one of many pens out of her bun, and tossed that as well. Maintaining his confident half-smile, the man wordlessly gathered the pen and paper, and followed where the boy had gone.

After the rotund man was gone, Tara slowly lowered herself back into her chair, a satisfied smile still tugging at the corners of her lips. Once every few thousand years or so, she would get a really good character for the boss, and earn herself a break. As she leaned back in her chair, she felt a slight shift beneath her. She glanced down to see that her stiff, metal folding chair had transformed into a cushy office chair. A fancy leather one, with padded armrests, and even an adjustable head rest. With a satisfied sigh, she leaned even further back, crossing her feet on her desk. She reached behind her head, and pulled a cigarette out of her bun, followed by a blue plastic lighter. She lit it, and took a long drag, pulling her glasses off and resting them on her desk. She’d come a long way since the boss found her in a remote corner of his mind eons ago. She’d always had an eye for quality, which is why she was able to appreciate the comfort of this chair; and also why she was so useful to the boss.