SkeeK
The Original, Rock n' Roll Doggie, VIP PASS
Here's a rather twisted piece I tossed up recently at the academy.
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The harsh sun cut through the multi-paned windows, falling across papers and books haphazardly strewn across a collapsing olive painted desk. An old metallic chair creaked dangerously as an aging academic shifted his inconsiderable weight. The sun was a chef, he thought dismally, and his failing brain was an overcooked appetizer.
Head aching, he clumsily let the pen slip from his fingers and slowly laid a hand against his sweating forehead. Through the fingers he could almost feel his troubled mind railing and sputtering, but further and further from any conclusion. The harder he grasped at each snarled idea, the more demented his web of reason became. Until in one moment, when the sharp clack of a pen contacting the faded rosewood floorboards reached his ears, suddenly nothing meant anything.
He stared blankly across the cramped office at the familiar wall of methodically organized volumes. Their pages once flourished with motivating words of insight and intellect, but now he recognized them only as a dismally coloured collage of meaninglessness.
Then, in the brief moment between the click of the pen striking the ground and rolling to strike a chair leg, he turned. Within an instant, the careful, stifling logic of his world was razed then rearranged and reconstructed.
For the first time in almost a day his feet felt the weight of his forgotten body. In one swift motion he leapt forward?knifing through the window in a toothy spray of glistening shards and splintering lattice? into the cruel sun.
----
The harsh sun cut through the multi-paned windows, falling across papers and books haphazardly strewn across a collapsing olive painted desk. An old metallic chair creaked dangerously as an aging academic shifted his inconsiderable weight. The sun was a chef, he thought dismally, and his failing brain was an overcooked appetizer.
Head aching, he clumsily let the pen slip from his fingers and slowly laid a hand against his sweating forehead. Through the fingers he could almost feel his troubled mind railing and sputtering, but further and further from any conclusion. The harder he grasped at each snarled idea, the more demented his web of reason became. Until in one moment, when the sharp clack of a pen contacting the faded rosewood floorboards reached his ears, suddenly nothing meant anything.
He stared blankly across the cramped office at the familiar wall of methodically organized volumes. Their pages once flourished with motivating words of insight and intellect, but now he recognized them only as a dismally coloured collage of meaninglessness.
Then, in the brief moment between the click of the pen striking the ground and rolling to strike a chair leg, he turned. Within an instant, the careful, stifling logic of his world was razed then rearranged and reconstructed.
For the first time in almost a day his feet felt the weight of his forgotten body. In one swift motion he leapt forward?knifing through the window in a toothy spray of glistening shards and splintering lattice? into the cruel sun.
