[This is part of an ongoing tandem writing experiment. To read the full story, click here.]
Friedrick crept through the Hallway of Insufficient Lighting and wound his way up the Spiral Staircase of Patently Absurd Proportions -- which, being an anomaly, fit him quite well -- where he met a round, pasty creature seated behind a cluttered desk.
"Can I help you?" wheezed the pitiful creature, craning his egglike head (for he had no neck) around a stack of dusty files.
"Yeah, um, the Big Man Downstairs sent me to open the door."
Friedrick was suddenly seized by a sneeze, expelling dust through the cramped room like magic powder from so many Disney films. The egglike creature -- we shall call him Eggy, for it remains one of the great tragedies of the universe that his mother attempted to fry him sunny side-up instead of naming him, for which she continues to serve an indefinite sentence in the disreputable Underworld State Hospital, where she has eaten no less than four other children resembling breakfast items -- squeaked and pressed his classes on his nonexistent nose.
"Which door is that?"
"I think you know which door."
"Well, being the Department of Doors, there's plenty to go around down here. We've got kitchen doors, doggy doors, those fun roundabout ones you always tend to see at banks... We've got sliding doors, trapdoors, even Jim Morrison of The Doors. So," he said haughtily, adjusting his glasses again, "which door is that?"
"There is but one door of such dubious nomenclature that it's hardly worth mentioning in conversation. Show me that one."
Eggy gulped.
"Right this way."
No comments:
Post a Comment