If you're just tuning in, our goal is to write our own Choose Your Own Adventure where every choice is twofold, with one leading to further adventure and the other to a gruesome death. Last week featured:
B: Shrug and continue eating:
Meh. Whoever this guy was, he didn’t have a great taste in tattoos, but he did have a GREAT TASTE. You finish the bag off, and lick you fingers. You scrumple up the Jack’s Links packet into a ball, and proceed to throw it into the waste paper bin on the other side of the office. It runs along the ridge of the paper bin twice before finally falling in. Hey, this is great! You think you’ve just invented the latest sport: waste paper golf. You’re surprised nobody has ever done this before. God, you’re an absolute genius. You’re about to scrumple all of your important legal documents into balls to continue your newfound sport, when Angeline walks into the room and sits in her cubicle. You know Angeline is like, really into you, because she was totally checking you out at the last Christmas shindig. Well, either you, or the tall, handsome guy standing next to you. Nah, it was definitely you.
You’re now conflicted. Do you:
A: Continue honing your paper ball throwing skills.
OR
B: Walk over to Angeline, and give her your best pick up line.
All five entries were very fun, and I encourage you to go take a look when you get the chance. But the official continuance comes to us by BenK22! But first, here's what would have happened had we gone with trying to give Angeline a pick up line:
B. Walk over to Angeline and give her your best pick-up line.
Plucking up your courage, you stand, wipe your sweaty palms on your pants, and walk over to Angeline’s cubicle. Leaning over the top, you swallow nervously and try to remember the line you memorized as you were walking over.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
You wipe the sweat off your hands again and swallow hard. “Are you tired? Because you’ve been running through my mind all day.”
“Seriously?” she asks.
You shrug.
“It’s not enough that I work harder than everyone else here, but now I’ve got to listen to lame pick-up lines from the loser in the cubicle across from me?”
You frown at the floor. Embarrassed, you feel your cheeks and the tips of your ears grow warm.
“Is there a problem?” a man asks.
Turning around, you see the tall, handsome guy from the Christmas party. What was his name?
“This guy was just leaving, Chris,” Angeline tells him with a pointed glare in your direction.
Chris! Of course! He’s a lot bigger than you remember. Is he Angeline’s boyfriend? Oh crap! Better beat a hasty retreat.
Turning away from Angeline’s cubicle, you sprint down the hall. Unable to turn away, you slam into the window, but it doesn’t break. With a groan, you fall to the floor. Blood trickles from your nose.
Getting shakily to your feet, you stumble toward the stairwell. Stubbing your toe as you open the door, you reach out your hand to grasp the handrail, but miss. You watch in slow motion as your hand passes the rail. Your face hits the second stair, then your feet tumble over your head. You begin to wonder if fate would have been kinder had you used your other favorite line, “Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven.”
You fall down the stairs and crumple into a heap at the landing.
Unfortunately, you have broken your neck. Your office escapades end here.
The End.
Ouch! I've heard of falling on your face in a dating situation before but that's the worst yet. Luckily, we have another option:
A. Continue honing your paper ball throwing skills.
As another wadded up paper ball bounces off the rim of the waste paper basket, you get the distinct feeling that someone is watching you. You shrug it off, however, and continue to crumple up your “important” meeting notes and show-off your skills to whomever is watching. Hopefully, it’s Angeline.
This time, the ball goes in! “Yes!” You shout while pumping your fist into the air, “200 points.”
“That’s the first one I’ve seen you sink,” Jimmy, the boss’s kid says.
Startled, you try to compose yourself. In your excitement, you had forgotten someone had been watching you. “Well,” you reply snarkily, “Maybe each basket is worth 200 points.”
“I’m telling my dad,” he retorts. Then runs off to your boss’s office.
Oh crap! This could ruin your day…well, more than your day. What if you got fired? What if you got fired! There’s always unemployment…
Do you…
A. Chase after Jimmy
or
B. Let Jimmy report you to his father?
Now it’s your turn! Write up the results of Choice A ("Chase after Jimmy") and Choice B ("Let Jimmy report you to his father"), with one ending in death and the other presenting us with two options from which to choose. I can’t wait to see what you come up with!
A-Chase after Jimmy: “Wait!”, you yell after him as he dashes off toward his father’s corner office. You jump out of you chair and give chase. Luckily for you you ran track in high school, and Jimmy is only 7 years old, so you catch up in no time. Unluckily for you, you have 100 pounds on the kid and trouble making sudden stops. You hit little Jimmy like a sack of bricks, knocking you both to the floor, and breaking several of his bones, in plain sight of everyone else in the office, including your boss who came out to see what all the noise was. He immediately calls the police, and you’re hauled off to jail for assulting a minor and reckless endangerment. Your office adventure ends here…
(I know it’s not a death, but still, can’t have an adventure in prision)
B-Let Jimmy report you to his father: You watch as Jimmy runs full-tilt toward his father’s corner office, screaming his head off about the “bad man throwing stuff”, and shrug. You never liked this job much anyway. Figuring your boss will take the word of a hyper-active 7 year old over that of a 10 year employee, you pack up you things, toss one last paper ball at the trash can (it misses), and head for the exit. When you get to the elevator, you see that it’s already lunch time, and there’s almost no room in the car. Do you: A-Try to squeeze in with your now former co-workers anyway; or B-Decide to take the stairs…
A – Chase after Jimmy: Oh, you’re going to tell daddy over my dead body! You spring into action, grabbing a handful of those cheap office pens, just in case you need to throw stuff at him. You begin to notice your age as you pant towards the brat, but you’ll be damned if that stops you! You whip a pen at him, missing completely (unless you were actually aiming at Sue with the lazy eye from accounting, but you know you weren’t). He looks back to see if that was you, makes an obscene gesture, and picks up the pace. If you don’t do something soon, you’ll have to listen to your boss lecture you for 15 minutes about conducting yourself in the office! 15 friggin minutes!!! You take every pen in hand, and throw them with all your might. Nailed him! he turns around again, probably to make some stupid remark, when he runs right past his dad’s office, and down a stairwell. You hear him make a large amount of shrieks and shrills, as any annoying child is prone to do when they’re making a big deal out of some broken bones. Oh wait, this is bad! Now he’s going to tell his dad you made him fall!… unless he broke his mouth. Can you break a mouth? You’re not sure, but you bet that kid just found out. Do you:
A – Check on the poor boy with the possibly broken mouth
B – Beat him to his dad, and make up a story about him screwing around?
B – Let Jimmy report you to his father: So you were throwing some mildly important documents at a trash can to pass the time. Big deal, right? Screw that little devil spawn, you’re hungry again, and you would rather chase a burger with a soda than chase a brat with an attitude. You sneak away to the kitchen, ready to eat something that will finally satisfy. You pop open the fridge. Sweet! Left over Chinese food! The note says, “PAUL’S. DO NOT EAT.” Ppphhhh, as if that ever stopped you any other time. Paul has a good taste in food, and if you don’t eat it, how are you going to make sure it doesn’t go to waste? Following your half-assed logic, you start to chow down. You see Paul in the distance, who is clearly making his way towards you. Oh wow. He looks pissed. Well, no point in stopping now, right? You begin to shovel the food down as fast as possible, when you suddenly realize you’ve stopped breathing, which is odd, because Paul isn’t close enough to choke you yet. Panic sets in as you realize it’s the food, and the only person in the office certified to do CPR is… Paul. He walks away, muttering how you deserve it, as you choke to death, alone, in the kitchen of the office. Just like your mom always said you would. Your office adventure ends here.
A: Chase after Jimmy
Well, Jimmy is clearly just a small version of your boss, with the same petulant, just-waiting-for-someone-to-tattle-on personality. You’re up and out of your chair in a second and after the little snitch. Even though you’ve got the longer legs, Jimmy has the manic, boundless energy available only to those under 10, and he’s pulling ahead fast. In desperation you push yourself up into a full on run, and begin to gain on him. In your frantic state of mind however you forgot that your boss’ office is around the corner, and at your current speed a quick ninety degree turn is all but impossible. Neither you nor the little brat is able to quite make the turn and each of you smack hard into the wall. Jimmy, smaller and having gone somewhat slower, bounces off dazed but not hurt. You on the other hand, much larger and at full tilt, go completely through the drywall and fairly exploding into the space beyond. You hit the floor, knocking the wind from you, covered in drywall dust and some gray insulation and go sliding across the tile floor. You come to a sharp, violent stop at the base of what looks to be some kind of a refrigerator, making the thing rock alarmingly and then begin a deceptively slow descent onto your unprotected cranium. In your confused, panicky mind the first clear thought that emerges is: when did we get a kitchen?
The end.
B: Let Jimmy report you to his father
You watch from the “comfort” of your generic office chair as the little twit dashes off down the hall to tell his dad, your boss, about your mad skills at time wasting. Well, no point in denying the obvious. Unemployment, now that you remember, has some benefits to it. You’ve never liked it here anyway, even if it keeps you in car detailing. There are plenty of other companies around this town that will take you in hopes of worming this company’s secrets out of you. With this happy prospect in mind, you hear your stomach grumble. It seems the questionable Jack’s Links have worn off. You’re about to head to the cafeteria, when you see your boss’ shiny head poke in through the door. Oh boy.
“I would like a word with you,” he begins, and you know that this can’t be good. To your very real surprise he continues by saying, “Firstly, I wish to congratulate you on your success. I know that such a project isn’t easy, so I admire your persistence.”
This doesn’t seem so bad, but you’re getting the impression that something, some important detail, is eluding you. “Um… Thanks,” is all you can think to say.
“And because of your success in securing the Asian account, I’m offering you a once in a lifetime chance!”
It’s now that you figure out what the important detail is. It’s clearly not you yourself that he’s talking about.
“Normally I wouldn’t rush you so, but I’d appreciate if you decided now. I’ve got an idiot to fire next, and I do so love those moments.”
Uh oh. You now have to do some unaccustomed quick-thinking. Do you,
Come clean and be honest about your identity, or
Forget that and jump for the promotion
A. You jump up to run after Jimmy and breathlessly call out “Don’t-!” while reaching out a threatening hand. You barely have time to take one step before the door to the supply closet flies open and bashes in Jimmy’s rapidly moving skull with the knob. What was your boss doing in the supply closet? As he steps out dully, you whip out your phone and shoot video of Jimmy finishing his slow fall to the hard floor, your boss’ slow, stupid face register that the now twitching, bloody mess on the floor was his son.
“Jimmy, are you alright?” CLASSIC! YouTube probably doesn’t take snuff film, though. You change the phone position and say loudly, “911 has me on HOLD, can you believe that? Who’s got the first aid kit?” Okay, now you sound like an idiot too–I mean, there’s no WAY that brat is still alive. That gray sludge is BRAINS. Three people scream and start talking about how you TOLD Jimmy “Don’t run!” Good grief. You’re going to smell like a rose! Your boss sits down, apparently in shock. Your coworkers realize Jimmy is dead. Angeline gives you an approving look as the 911 call someone else REALLY made brings paramedics. The police come and don’t even bother taking statements, saying that security already showed them the tape and no one touched the kid. Yikes. Cameras? They WATCHED you and still didn’t know you caused this? Huh. Do you:
A. Try to act like you care about the kid and the boss along with your coworkers, milking the clock with the impromptu sympathy party? –or–
B. Claim it bothered you so much you’re going for an early lunch to get your head together?
————-
You let Jimmy run. It’s PAPER. Isn’t that why they HAVE RECYCLING BINS IN THE FIRST PLACE? Let the brat gr-uh-rat. You know what? Unemployment might be a nice change from the daily grind. On the other hand, maybe seeing that brat ground down, really humbled by having his rat-a-tat ground dow-devalued would be great. He’s what, 10? He doesn’t know about the office grind. Grind. Why am I stuck on ‘grind?’ Oh. There’s a grinding noise somewhere below–
And that is the last thought you have, as a structural defect in the floor under your chair drops you into the air-conditioning unit below your office floor. It breaks loose from it’s brackets and twists in place, crushes you instantly, and sprays you as a red mist all through your office.
A. Chase after Jimmy
“Come back here, you little punk!” you yell out, bolting out of your seat to give chase.
Jimmy is pretty spry for a kid, but you have longer legs, and you start gaining on him. In order to get away, Jimmy takes a quick turn down another hallway through the cubicles, and you’re forced to slow down in order to keep from slamming into the walls, allowing him to put some distance in front of you. This goes on for about 5 minutes until you lose the little brat.
You start looking around, trying to figure out where he went to, when you hear Jimmy yell out, “Daddy!” from a couple aisles over. It sounds like he got lost in the maze of cubicles. Now you have him!
“What are you doing?” asks the voice in your head. “If he’s lost, then he probably doesn’t remember how to get back to your desk. Sneak back there, and if Jimmy singles you out, feign ignorance, saying he must have mistaken you for someone else.”
Brilliant idea! You whistle softly to yourself, walk back to your desk, and bring up the dummy spreadsheet on your computer that you have in your files to make it look like you’re working whenever the boss is around, as opposed to the internet porn you watch and Facebook games you play when he’s not.
Minutes later, Jimmy and your boss come by and Jimmy peers into your cubicle, as you try to look nonchalant, moving around irrelevant numbers on your spreadsheet. You start to worry that maybe Jimmy has figured out it was you, when your boss says, “Jimmy, I have important work to do. Is this him, or not?”
“I don’t know,” Jimmy replies, sounding frustrated. “Maybe it was someone else.”
You hear them walk away, and you give a small celebratory fist pump. It worked! Time to celebrate by looking at your old high school classmates on Facebook to see who got fat.
Ten minutes later, Simon from the next cubicle comes by. “Hey, a few of us have decided to take off for lunch. You in?”
You have to admit, your recent brush with cannibalism isn’t really a substitute for a meal, and chasing that brat Jimmy did work up an appetite. “Yeah, okay,” you reply
“We’ve narrowed it down to the Chinese restaurant or the new taco place on the corner,” Simon reports. “What’s your call?”
A. Tacos
B. Chinese
B. Let Jimmy report you to his father
Whatever kid. That’s not a threat. The worst that will happen is the boss will ream you out for failing to sort your trash into documents for recycling or documents for shredding, as per last month’s memo. Which you’re pretty sure you threw into the trash earlier.
You smirk and decide right now would be a good time to go get a coffee. A quick jaunt to the breakroom, and you see that the remaining donuts from the morning meeting have migrated to the counter here, and you grab a bearclaw, taking a bite before pouring yourself a cup of joe.
You take a sip, and grimace at how strong the coffee is. Lord knows how long it’s been sitting on that burner, but you’re way too lazy to make a new pot. Oh well, a bit of cream and sugar should kill that taste.
There’s no cream in the fridge. No milk either. The only thing you have is that generic brand non-dairy coffee whitener, but the coffee’s so rank, you don’t hesitate to pour some in.
After sipping it, you realise that it’s almost passable, and take another bite from the bearclaw. Another sip of coffee. And then you notice that your vision is going dark around your peripheral vision.
This isn’t good. Maybe you should get back to your computer, and check to see if Web M.D. has anything on this. You take two steps, and collapse, finding yourself increasingly short of breath.
What you haven’t realized is the bacteria on that funky banana you ate earlier is mixing with the dyes in the tattoo from the “jerky” you ate, the still active yeast in your bearclaw, and some of the chemicals in the coffee whitener to create a powerful but completely unforeseen neurotoxin. By the time anyone finds you, you’ll already have died from asphyxiation.
The End.