|Blogs > shadowofdarkns76 > Shadow of My Darkness|
SCARE THE SCARY PEOPLE
SCARE THE SCARY PEOPLE
I took a pole on-line recently. I gave 'normal' answers. Cynical, but not crazy. The answer: You are NOT scary!
*MY Shadow of darkness took this pole on the internet. I couldn't help myself. I kept answering with my heart. The first answer that made my shadow smile. I don't know what I was expecting, but my shadow did: * YOU'RE SCARY! YOU SCARE THE SCARY PEOPLE!
I was minding my own business. Something I'm known for doing. *Leave me alone, and I won't rip out your spleen. The shadow whispers.*
So there I was, figuring out some technical bullshit for a client. Long day, hot environment (fully-closed room, under high-wattage lights) knowing I'm going to be walking out to a brisk wind and right into a runny nose, caughing, cold, when I get out of this hell-hole. *Yeah, prime time to talk. The shadow of darkness tells me there's a victum heading our way.*
I'm using the diagrams for my notes, trying to keep them easy to read and understand for the next guy, incase it's not me (standard practice, common sense).
Shit-head walks into the room holding a cup of coffee from the nearest office. The specially brewed expensive shit that the secretary buys her boss 'cause she honestly enjoys the stuff and enjoys working for her boss. Shit-head isn't her boss.
I already know Shit-head is going to target me. I'm standing still like so much fresh meat in Shit-head's eyes. *His bitching buddy if I agree with everything he says like a lacky, wasting a good hour if I'm lucky. Or his sounding board when I point out when he's wrong, explaining to him every detail trying in vain to enlighten his shit-headedness.*
I glance up at the nearest guy who happens to be looking in my direction. *I give him a calm look. But I don't remove my shades. He understands immediately, the boy remembers from earlier still scared to talk to me, he'll make it, he's learning.*
The boy b-line's it to shit-head, barely avoiding cutting him off and asks his opinion on a shade and style for a wall-plate. Quick thinker, an innane question that doesn't matter too much to anyone but the interior designer, but specific enough to deserve an answer. Unfortunately what the witty kid didn't know was the question at hand was answered already and shit-head knew it. Thus giving shit-head a target to go off on and in the same illustrious breath show that the shit-head is aware of everything that goes on in the universe. I had a choice. Save the kid with a simple answer before shit-head talks, drawing said attention of shit-head once more, or not. *I let the kid suffer. He'll learn. Maybe he'll pay attention next time. The kid's serving my purpose.*
Unfortunately, shit-head wasn't done. I realized it when there was no walk-away-with-a-self-satisfied-shit-eating-grin. *fuck.*
Shit-head walks up to me, sipping from his mug. First words from Shit-head: Is this right? (as a pinkie finger lazily points to somthing I've written on the plans.
At this point, I'm thinking of my shadow's earlier thought, Bitch-Buddy, or Sounding Board. What's most expediant? As I'm pondering this Shit-head puts down his coffee mug right on my plans leaving an obvious coffee ring on the expensive plans, right over my notes. *No, It's time. He's mine.*
*My shadow stand up straight and brings up my head. I'm the only guy whereing shades inside. Disconcerting as that is, no one talks about it. For a reason. Glasses come off. Behind me and to my left someone swears in a somewhat frightened voice, and says Break Time folks. By this time I've caught Shit-head's eyes with mine. A moment later the room is cleared and it is just me and shit-head. I truly believe he had the passing thought that I didn't move because I believed that Shit-head was important enough to talk to through break. Shit-head then saw the something in my eyes. The Something that the shades hold back from those undeserving. Shit-head started to shake slightly. I assume unknowingly at first. The victum picked up the mug of coffee, and continued to shake.* Have you ever blacked out. I don't mean the: I feel like crap cause I drank too much blacked out. I mean the: stark raving mad, I can't concentrate, what the hell did I just do blacked out.
I remember my voice. It wasn't my own. It wasn't deeper or louder. It was softer. The kind of soft that is used when you are promising someone an ultimatum. Threating someone, if you will. I've often wondered what my shadow of darkness promised him. Apparently it was a bit much for me to know and keep my sanity. I remember realizing I was done talking and started to bring up my hand to shake shit-head's, as some sort of sign of 'no-hard-feelings'. I'm pretty sure it wasn't taken as such. Shit-head about faced so quickly the rest of the coffee ended on the floor and shit-heads right leg. With almost no reaction to this, Shit-head scurried out of the room, as my shadow was putting back on my shades letting everyone know it was safe to come out. *For now.*
I know of three outcomes of that conversation.
ONE: Shit-head never spoke to me again. *Of course not.*
TWO: We got an extension on the contract to finish it. *Well deserved I must say.*
THREE: Shit-head stopped drinking the secretaries' coffee, and once in awhile she brought me a cup with a smile and a wink. What's that about? * (*smirk* Shit-head had it coming, and the secretary is cute. Hey, even evil has needs.) *
Story Time End