The Sovereignty (part 5)

     Typically, one of the positives about being under mind-control is you don't have your own thoughts and, in my case, you don't feel your own pain. Not this time.
     I had just released my arm and turned to walk into the bank when it all came back at once. All of my senses. The slight breeze on my skin reminding me I was outside the bank. The glare of the setting sun blinding my eyes and the sirens piercing my eardrums. And there was my shoulder. All that pain, all at once. I dropped to my knees and reached for my shoulder. Dislocated. I tried my best to steady my breathing. Panic took my chest and raced my thoughts. My arm, my arm, how was I going to get it back in, why would Blaine do this, the pain, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Pain.
     Then it all stopped. Well, not completely, but it did dull as a new thought entered my mind, Why could I feel pain? Why could I feel at all? I looked up to the bank door but couldn't see much through the tinted glass and closed blinds. For all my senses to come back at once, it could only mean the connection was broken, forcibly. In the same way you don't just go unplugging random cords from a computer, you don't just disconnect from mind control or there's a chance you'll fuck up your victim, or worse, yourself.
     "Son, are you okay? Come down here, if you can," the guy with the megaphone said from behind the police barricade at the bottom of the steps.
     My senses blurred for a second, just long enough for me to hear Blaine's voice in my head. Just two words. "Help me."
     I blinked twice and then I could see clearly again. There was an officer crouched next to me, one arm around my shoulders and trying to help me to my feet.
     You would think it would take longer to decide to break the law and aid a criminal, especially one who not even five minutes ago, took over my body and forced me to break my own arm. A smart person would probably need to take some time to contemplate the decision and heal their wounds before taking on such a venture.
    Its too bad I was never known for making good decisions.
    Before he could steady himself next to me, I shoved the cop over and ran into the bank. The bank lobby was empty. All the hostages, the two security guards, even the two duffel bags of cash that were left at the teller windows, all of them gone.
     "Blaine!" I let my voice echo around the huge lobby before shouting again. "Blaine! Where the fuck are you?"
     I heard the solid, sturdy footsteps of steel-toed boots on the linoleum floor from the other side of a set of cubicles to my left as well as a familiar voice call out to me. "Ah, sounds like you've brought reinforcements."
    Wrong voice. The man stepped into view, his red coat billowing around his ankles. He still wore no shirt, allowing his abs to gleam in the florescent lighting. On his face, a black, racoon's eyes mask, worn seriously, as if it were actually meant to fool anyone. Over his head, however, a shining red helmet, like the old leather helmets football players used to wear back in the day, except it looked as if it were cut from gleaming red glass. Psychic armor.
     He paused, studying me before he spoke. "You know, you look familiar." He started forward and I could see a red glow beginning to emit from his fist, like the first spark of a campfire before it burns the whole forest down.
     I started backing away toward the door, muttering such a string of profanities under my breath so long I wasn't even sure it was in English anymore. Just before I got to the door, I tripped and landed hard on the tile floor. Now, I officially regretted my decision to come back.
     "Ah, the psychic," Red Coat said with a snap of his fingers. "Well, let's just consider this payback for last night. Oh, and before you try, just like your friend you'll find your mind control won't work on me with this baby sitting on my head." He pointed to his helmet with his empty hand while the gauntlet finished forming on his right.
     "Hey, asshole," called Blaine's voice. I couldn't see him from the floor, but I saw Red Coat turn toward the source of the voice and all I could think was what's the point of getting his attention and losing the element of surprise, you dumbass. Red Coat's jaw dropped and the gauntlet disappeared from his hand. He raised his left and a wall like a red pane of glass appeared in front of him. "Does it protect you from this?" A bolt of lightning struck the psychic shield and shattered it. Though the shield stopped a majority of the blast the force still sent him flying across the room, colliding hard twenty feet up the wall under the raised ceilings of the bank before crashing back down onto some brochure tables.
     A dull thud brought me out of shock and I walked around the corner to see Blaine staggered, holding onto a cubicle wall for support while the security guard who still had both arms lay on the floor at his feet. "We should get out of here before he wakes up. Or The League sends another super in here." He tried to stand on his own, but instead started sliding down the cubicle wall. I didn't catch him.
     "Where's the money?" His clothes were a mess, one sleeve of the coat torn and blood partially soaked the collar of his shirt. His green and red ceramic demon mask was cracked and parts of it were even chipped away, revealing bruises underneath.
      He laughed, painfully holding his side as he did. "He took it. Managed to get in, free the hostages, and take the cash while both of us were outside." He shook his head. "He got all of it." That part he said in barely a whisper. It would've been hard to hear if we were in a monastery.
     I looked at my arm, still dangling at my side. In all the excitement, I'd forgotten about the pain, but now it flooded back. "Why me? Why my arm?"
     He laughed again, even harder, knowing that every breath put more strain and more pain on what I assumed were broken ribs. "Because I knew you'd be the only one to forgive me."
     I started at him. Because I'd forgive him, he said, what the fuck did that mean? Well, I did come back, even when the mind control broke. I did come back to see what was happening. And I was going to rescue him. I reached down, punched Blaine in the face, and he fell to the floor. Judging by the almost cartoonish fall - mostly he just slid slowly against the wall until he landed on his side - I guess I didn't hit him as hard as I thought I would. "Now you're forgiven." He lifted himself back up and I helped him to his feet with my good arm. We leaned on each other as we headed down the hall to the emergency exit.
     We'd gotten halfway down when I heard boards move. I looked over my shoulder to see Red Coat start to stir. No time to get to the door, I thought as we half walked, half dragged each other into the breakroom off to the side.



And that ends part 5. Oddly enough, I should have part 6 up in a week. Before you start making bets, I actually do have it written out and the only thing left is to type it. I had planned to put the whole thing together as one piece, but that would be too much to ask anyone to read (and too much for me to type at one time). Also, I like these alternating blog post so I think this will be the new layout: one story post and one "not-a-fiction-story" post (the last one being "Office Awkwardness and You"). Those are actually a lot easier to write, require less thought (since I don't really need to plot and write them more stream-of-consciousness), and maybe I'll even add more pictures to those ones (don't get your hopes up, its just a thought).

Office Awkwardness and You

Or rather, Office Awkwardness and Me. I don't really know what kind of problems you are having at your job.

So, I've been working in my first office for just over a year and half now. Its the same office from my earlier posts and, no, I'm still not going to explain what it is that I do since I still don't know how to explain what I do without going into some rambling, long-winded tale.

however, here is a picture of my desk

This job also marks the first time I've worked in a place with a dress code, female employees, and air conditioning (sweet, sweet air-conditioning). Obviously, either my co-workers are very tolerant people or I've learned to give a shit since I've been able to stay at this place for so long. And, as much as it goes against my nature, I think its the latter because I've been running into these moments of awkwardness. Note: if you think this is going to be a guide on how to deal with these situations, its not. They are just general awkward situations I've run into at work (and as I think about them, I'm almost certain I'm using the word "awkward" wrong). But, if you do have any solutions, feel free to leave a comment.

Facial Hair

 How do you properly grow facial hair? If you're wondering, this was the thought that inspired this whole post so that's why we're starting with it (I forgot to shave one day and as I scratched at my five-day old stubble, this thought seemed to find me). But seriously, is it even possible to grow a mustache, beard or even just a simple set of mutton chops cleanly? (thanks to my co-worker who found that link through reddit) Not that I've been trying to grow a beard, but rather I've been forgetting to shave every so often causing a stubble on my face. Trust me on this beard thing, my co-worker and I did the whole No-Shave November thing and not only was it as itchy as a john's crotch after a night with a back-alley prostitute (you know, because of the crabs), but, according to my other co-workers, I was starting to look like the Unabomber.

clearly, not everyone appreciates the beard

 Anyways, back on topic, is there a way to CLEANLY grow hair on your face? You know, without looking like you just overslept and didn't care about your dishevelment before coming to the office. I mean, obviously the first, and what I assume is the only step, of growing a beard is to not shave. But its not as if you grow that magnificent Galifinakis or Norris beard overnight. No, there's that period when its just a stubble, then it grows darker and more visible and people start taking notice, asking "Oh, are you growing a beard?" or, more commonly (if they're the people I know), "What's up with that shit on your lip?". I guess you could constantly trim the hair, keeping it even and styled as it grows, but that seems like a lot of work and it goes slow. And until it comes into its full form, that overgrown mess on your face just makes you look like a homeless man in a collared shirt (which, while working with the people applying for disability benefits, you do not want to look like one of the clients).

Lunch Places

      Ever walk into an eatery of any kind (restaurant, diner, food truck) and, for whatever reason, just walk out without ordering anything? Maybe you don't like the specials that day? or the line is too long? or maybe you just realized a craving for whatever weird stuff you eat is just too strong to resist? (not that the food you eat is weird, though it probably is) There's a multitude of reasons, but the common factor is that you walk out without ordering anything at all. I feel awkward doing this at places I go to just once in a while and even more so when the counter person has acknowledged my existence, already keying up the register for me when I turn and walk out.
      Its even worse when its one of the two plate lunch places I eat at during the week because THEY KNOW ME. How well do they know me, you ask. The guys at Island Style know me by name, even writing it on the plate instead of what the order is (which happens everywhere else on the island). They even let me order things not on the menu as long as they have the stuff to make it (chicken katsu curry loco moco, for instance). The lady at the register at Kevin's Drive-Inn II not only knows that once a week I'll be ordering Sweet Sour Pork with Fried Rice, but I like to think that she got it put back on the menu just for me (ok, its always been on the menu, but for two weeks they just didn't have it anytime I tried to order it). Add all this to the fact that I've been frequenting these two places for breakfast and lunch for the past year and a half and you can see that I'm a very familiar face to them now.
      But back to what I was talking about (got sidetracked there for a bit). THESE PEOPLE KNOW ME! Is it not weird to walk out of a place you frequent so much that they know the sound of our footsteps? I only ask because about a month ago, I did just that at Island Style (the line was long and I only have a half hour for lunch). And I got caught. I swear I was only by the front door for a second or two but as I'm walking away I hear Mama-san's voice call my name. As I made it into Kevin's, I looked back to see Mama-san (the owner's nice, elderly mom who works the counter) outside the doorway. And she's looking at me. We made eye-contact, so I know she saw me and she knows I saw her see me. And I'm thinking there's going to be some sort of backlash for this betrayal - possibly just one scoop of rice with a double scoop of mac salad in all my plates for a week). Luckily, she thought I left because they ran out of the rib-eye steak so we're all still on good terms.

Restroom Etiquette

Before we start with that, watch this:

      Basically, its all the rules one need to follow when using the restroom. You would think that with these rules in place, nothing could possibly go wrong. And you would be wrong. With the amount of people using the restroom on our floor, there's going to be some interaction. I don't know about you, but I like to have as few interactions with others, not only within the walls of the restroom, but on my way to and from as well.
      On this topic, I may be able to offer some advice and tips to avoiding awkward interactions - by avoiding interactions altogether. No, you don't understand. No interactions at all. If I see anyone in the office disappear with a key, I'll hold back the flow not only until he gets back, but roughly three minutes and twenty-seven seconds after that time just to avoid interacting with the smell he may or may not have left behind. If a male (or possibly deep-voiced female, hey, I can't see through the walls of the clinic) asks the nurse for the key, I'll wait until I hear the sound of the client returning the bathroom key before heading to the toilet (trust me, its hard to miss the sound of a two-liter bottle with a key zip-tied to it falling on a wooden desk).
 When I've become properly situated in the stall of my choosing (they took out the one urinal so now there's just the two stalls), I take care of business at my own pace depending on my mood and how quickly I want to get back to my desk (and also whether I'm just bleeding the lizard or dropping the kids at the pool). And should a new challenger to the porcelain throne arrive before I get out, I also plot my escape accordingly. If I'm done hiding in the stall and avoiding work (it used to work great at the auto shop), I'll try to time my exit just as he enters the other stall. Sometimes, I'll wait him out and stay seated until he leaves. If we somehow manage to finish at the same time, I'll take my time until he leaves: doing the double flush, spend an extra minute or two adjusting my belt, or even pretend to wipe down the seat (because I'm as courteous as I am a horrible shot).
      Why all the hostility? As I pointed out, I'd like to avoid interacting with anyone at any point of my bathroom usage procedural but, by placing yourself in such a proximity to myself it interferes with that voice telling me its rude not to make small talk. Think about it: we're both in the restroom, one of us is washing his hands at the only sink - soup, water, more soap - while the other just stands behind him, waiting, unsure as to what that single brown speck on his hand is (I swear it was there before I got into the restroom). Its almost expected for one of us to make some crude poop joke, but that would violate the Restroom Code and I'd expect the CIA or launch a drone offensive on my position just for breaking it.
      Nothing, however, is more awkward a situation than meeting the eyes of someone who just got out of the bathroom. I'll be at one end of the hallway, or perhaps coming out of the office and someone will exit the restroom at the other end of the hall. And its not like I'm just staring at the restroom door to see if anyone comes out, its just that I've got an attention span like my dog, who will look whenever she hears a door open, as if its a surprise to see someone coming out of it. I see you coming out of the restroom, and I know you see me see you coming out, but its not like either of us want to talk about what the fuck you may or may not have been doing in there, or, worse, what I'm about to do in there (its exactly what you're thinking if you wanted to know).
  And the worse part - its the WOMEN'S restroom that's right there

literally, its right there in the hallway

 As you can see from my crude diagram that is the set-up on the our floor of the building. Also, speaking of crude drawings, Hyperbole and a Half is back (thus all of my horrible Paint drawings). If you don't know, at least check out my favorite post so far. So, now, if one of my female co-workers, one of the other women in the other office, or one of the female clients walks out of the restroom not quite prepared for an audience and is still adjusting some article of clothing, while simultaneously my ears hear a door and my eyes trace the source of the noise and out eyes lock and now I'm the one reporting for Saturday morning sexual harassment classes (this is a joke, I have no idea if the classes are always on Saturday). On this I am at a complete loss of what to do to avoid this situation. I mean, the obvious response is to not look, but curiosity and my poor attention span tell me this is impossible.


Wow, did you actually read all that? No shit. I am thoroughly impressed. Well, thanks for putting up with that. And just for you, here's something actually entertaining. There's more videos, but this is my favorite so far:

Also, before we're completely off the topic of work, I'd thought I'd let you all know my iPod may be sentient since it has decided, completely on its own, that it is required to play the following songs at least once a day even when on full shuffle. I'm not kidding. I've noticed it playing those songs with what seems like more frequency than anything else (or else I'm just noticing these songs more than the others and there is really nothing to worry about).

• Berlin - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
• Handlebars - Flobots
• Dolls - 9Muses
• Bulletproof Heart - My Chemical Romance
• This Elegant Suit I've Been Wearing - Lemon Party
• Queens are Trumps - Scandal