Mar 8, 2007

banana sandwiches

i had some time to kill so i started writing a story. some of it off the top of my head some of it out of my ass. i guess thats kind of the same thing.

i probably shouldnt post this till its done but i know i'll probably never finish it since it was so spur of the moment. sorry.

here it is.

It was Tuesday. Jerry looked forward to Tuesdays. He relished in the joy of the week being halfway over. Most people view Wednesday as “hump day” but for Jerry it was Tuesday. He felt like since he was in Tuesday that it didn’t count and that it was pretty much already Wednesday. But, to those few who really knew Jerry, it made perfect sense.
Jerald Eisenhower Kendal was a complicated soul trapped in an average 9-5 play by the book body. Every once in a while his complicated colors would shine through in ways no one expected. Every Tuesday for example, while eating one of his two banana and peanut butter sandwiches. Usually Jerry would have 2 boiled eggs and a packet of flavored oatmeal which he would cook to the precise instructions read from the back of the package in the office microwave. Each week he would enjoy a new flavor. Monday was the first day he tried “brown sugar and honey” flavor. But this was Tuesday, his own personal “hump day”. And for this Mr. Kendal would enjoy his banana and peanut butter sandwiches.
Jerry looked down at the table in front of him. Bluish grey Formica weathered like a pair of nurses shoes with a colorless glare beaming back up at his pale face emitting a kind of sterile amusement. Crumbs fall as he finishes off the last corner of slightly stale wheat crust and before Jerry can even acknowledge that he’d just enjoyed his weekly gift to himself a loud crash and then a woman’s voice can be heard from another room echoing off the soda machines exclaiming “oh shit, god damnit!” Jerry recognized this voice as the new human resources clerk, Samantha Collins. Ms. Collins to most of the staff but just Sam to Jerry’s supervisor. Then another voice billowed from around the hall and too echoed off the row of Pepsi machines into the lunch room where Jerry’s special moment was abruptly infringed upon. This voice was instantly recognizable as none other than Regional Marketing Manager of Couch Mark Ink Distribution Company, Ken Knight. “Sam what did you do?” Queried Ken “I, I, knocked it over pulling out the file. I am sooo sorry” flirted Samantha.
Jerry’s thoughts of half-week wonderment shifted suddenly. Now all he could think of was Sam and how Ms. Collins will probably get a raise for foolishly knocking Kens golf trophy over.

thats all i got for now.

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