I handwrote this one because why not!
Jack awoke at his desk slightly confused. He remembered going out for drinks with coworkers, and maybe he drank a little too much, but he didn’t remember getting home. Or showering. Or waking back up and taking the train back to work. After a quick assessment of his appearance and odor, he thought maybe in his haze, he didn’t shower. THat would explain why he was in yesterday’s suit.
But no matter. He had some work to do and figured it had to be one hell of a night and he would catch up on the details from Christ and Janet later.
He caught up on his to do list and went to look for the Mansuko case he had been working on. A simple defense case but on the high end since that’s all the Regan Firm worked on. Granted, most of their clients came in guilty, but it was upon the prosecution to prove that fact. THe firm was so large, they rarely even went to trial They sent prosecutors running back with piss poor deals. Jack was pretty good at what he did. He rarely went to court, clocked tons of billable hours, and had high profile clients.
Perry Mansuko was the manufacturer of a diet soda whose ingredients caused lab rats to have get type II diabetes after a solid week of consumption. However, the forms were lost and the food administration approved it for mass production. Due to the name, it sold for high dollar amounts in boutiquey type grocers. Thin, privileged housewives inhaled his products. And although most of them were fine, a few too many got sick. And one had the soda tested and found it didn’t even have any dietary properties. Thus launched a class-action suit.
Jack had lucked up as head counsel. This was going to be his big break. He billed tons of hours on research and interviews, but he knew how the case would end the minute he took it. The feds had no evidence the soda caused any problems. That’s all there was to it. But why not cash in when he had the opportunity. There was a new Porsche had had his eye on. It would be so easy to pick up chicks in a Porsche. Easier than convincing them to take the train home with you. Despite the sexiness of his uptown loft, he lost most of the girls on the train ride over. Cabs made it a little easier, but they weren’t cheap. And most of his disposable income went to drinks. And drugs. They went hand in hand for a good time. Especially for those girls that needed the extra push or persuasion to sleep with him. It was still amazing how far a loft and nice job at a good firm got him.
When he and his wife, Leslie, first moved to town he was shocked at the cost of living, but now that she had left him it was necessary for the upkeep of his sex life. At first he thought it was awful to be getting a divorce at 26, but hi boss told him that was the price of fast-tracking his career. Jack thought he should try to make it work with Cidny, the receptionist his wife caught him cheating with, but he quickly grew tired of Cindy after she started costing more than she was worth.
None of this helped him find the Mansuko files he was looking for. He snuck down the hallway with his emergency toiletry bag and decided to touch himself up. He washed his face and brushed his teeth. Smoothes some product into his hair, and swapped out his tie. That should be enough to get him through the day. At worst, he could cut out early and hit the gym for a shower and change of clothes.
After refreshing, he was still at a loss for his file. Nothing could be found on his desk. He prayed the secretary put it in the archives by accident. Of course it would be a firing for her, but at least he could meet Mansuko tomorrow with no problems.
Jack mumbled to himself as he made his way up to the archives to fix whatever the hell the secretary did. He cursed when he got papercuts on his fingers searching through the folders. Finally he came across the Mansuko folder but someone had stamped it “CLOSED”.
Jack cursed a blue streak as he rode the elevator back down and marched directly into his boss’s office.
“That bitch Cindy put my Mansuko file in archives,” Jack screamed.
Cindy removed herself from the desk and closed the door behind her.
“Mansuko? That case has been closed for months. Wait, oh hell, Jack go down to the 6th floor.”
Months? Jack was totally confused. Was he fired? Is that was he was forced to see HR? Months?! He was just working on it yesterday.
The air conditioning was totally busted on the 6th floor. Maybe they were having a gas leak too because it also smelled a little rotten eggy. Maybe they fired someone who retaliated with a 3rd grade prank. Whatever the case, it was packed. Jack made his way to the receptionist.
Her skin was a deep red hue. Not as if she was a little too intimate with a tanning booth. But red. Like a fire engine. Like a beet. Like…and was that a tail sticking up from behind her office chair?
“Welcome to Hell, the Regan office, may I help you?”
Jack was taken aback. He almost threw up right there The receptionist totally looked like a demon. Then he started to pay attention to the people around him. Pieces of their bodies were missing. Some were clearly from other centuries. The receptionist gave him the “one minute” finger, and went back to sorting some paperwork. Jack took a seat next to a viking and a priest talking about how good the 14th century was for entertainment. They stopped their conversation when he sat down. The priest shook his head in disgust and picked up a copy of Cosmo with Anna Nicole on the cover.
“I’d like to get a run in with her,” the priest mentioned to the viking. Jack looked at the cover in confusion. They nodded in agreement and went back to ignoring Jack.
Freaked out, Jack jumped up and ran back to the receptionist.
“What the hell is going on,” he demanded. “Is this some kind of bizarro dream?”
“Sir, please be seated. Your number will be called shortly.”
He was number 94. They were on number 3.
“I need to know what is going on.”
The receptionist rolled her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair just enough so Jack could see a horn protruding from the left side of her skull.
“Look, we had a computer glitch and a lot of people got reset. It happens all the time since the Y2K bug. You’ll be sorted out soon and back to work in no time.”
“Y2K,” Jack questioned.
“The year 2000? We got computer errors every so often since then and have to reassign a lot of people. No biggie. You’ll get sorted, I’m telling you.”
“2000? It’s 1959!”
The receptionist laughed. “Dude, it’s 2025 on Earth.”
Jack sat down and rubbed his head hoping it would snap him out of his dream. Then he felt the hole in the side of his head and remembered the bullet that he put through it, and waited to be reintroduced to hell.
Prompt: You have died. You wake up in hell.
5 memo pad pages of scribble.
holy (or unholy) shit! gooooooooddd!!! 🙂