Hall of Infinite Doors
You tramp dutifully over to Harold's office. He is well known for being an old, hardnosed wart face. He is the managing editor of the flagship publication you produce: MARVEL, a magazine for men. Rumor has it that he fires people just to keep everyone on their toes. A shiver runs down your spine.
The door is large and thick. You knock, but it sounds more like tapping in morse code.
"COME INNNN," bellows a deep voice from within.
You creak the door open. "Hello, sir. I'm here to apologize for misdelivering the mail."
The old hound looks at you from across the breadth of his spacious, well appointed office.
"Well, don't let it happen again. Do you have the misplaced article?"
"Sir?" you quake.
"The item, the mail that you misdelivered?"
"No, sir," you timidly reply. "Brian says I gave you Helen's mail."
He pauses. "I recall no such thing." He presses a button on his phone. "Beverly, get me Brian!!" he thunders.
You stand uncomfortably until your boss shows up. Brian walks in as if he's entering a club. "Heeeyy, what cen I do for you, sir? Is he given you trauble? He is a bit new, you know and I . . . "
"Quiet." says Harold abruptly, looking across his spectacles. "What's this about me receiving Helen's mail."
"Aww, um, that came from Beverly," mumbles Brian.
"Beverllyyy!!" bellows Harold into his speakerphone.
Beverly, a tall, blonde tart, enters. You'd think there were something going on, but despite editing a men's magazine, Harold is as celebite as a monk.
"Beverly, did I receive Helen's mail today?"
"No, Mr. Murphy," she says over her black glasses.
"Dismissed . . . You stay." Harold points gloomily at Brian.
You exit the room with Beverly. On the way back to the mailroom you think you can hear the building tremble.
There are rumors about what happened to Brian, but only this is known: From that day forward, he was never seen again.
The door is large and thick. You knock, but it sounds more like tapping in morse code.
"COME INNNN," bellows a deep voice from within.
You creak the door open. "Hello, sir. I'm here to apologize for misdelivering the mail."
The old hound looks at you from across the breadth of his spacious, well appointed office.
"Well, don't let it happen again. Do you have the misplaced article?"
"Sir?" you quake.
"The item, the mail that you misdelivered?"
"No, sir," you timidly reply. "Brian says I gave you Helen's mail."
He pauses. "I recall no such thing." He presses a button on his phone. "Beverly, get me Brian!!" he thunders.
You stand uncomfortably until your boss shows up. Brian walks in as if he's entering a club. "Heeeyy, what cen I do for you, sir? Is he given you trauble? He is a bit new, you know and I . . . "
"Quiet." says Harold abruptly, looking across his spectacles. "What's this about me receiving Helen's mail."
"Aww, um, that came from Beverly," mumbles Brian.
"Beverllyyy!!" bellows Harold into his speakerphone.
Beverly, a tall, blonde tart, enters. You'd think there were something going on, but despite editing a men's magazine, Harold is as celebite as a monk.
"Beverly, did I receive Helen's mail today?"
"No, Mr. Murphy," she says over her black glasses.
"Dismissed . . . You stay." Harold points gloomily at Brian.
You exit the room with Beverly. On the way back to the mailroom you think you can hear the building tremble.
There are rumors about what happened to Brian, but only this is known: From that day forward, he was never seen again.