Snippet #2444481

The varnished oak chair supported the solitary creature's form quite nicely, the cushions preventing his circulation, what there was, from being impeded. This same feeling of comfort could not be said to be shared by his mind. Tax forms, bank receipts, and inventory lists filled the top of the poor creature's desk like a flood and were boring him to no end. Each letter addressed to 'David LeFleur, Pacific Fields Apiary' was another dull piece of paper sent by people who seemed to take pleasure in making others miserable with boxes to fill in, lines to sign, spaces to leave blank, and formulas to follow.

Leaning back in the chair, teetering on the edge between falling forward or backward, David scanned his office for the umpteenth time to try and purge the phantom sight of black and white from his eyes. It went from the walls painted a baby blue to the shelves lined with curios and knick knacks to the grandfather clock sequestered to one corner with both digital and analog clocks surrounding it. The window let in the light of a bright sunny day, still in the bright light of a mid-day sun. A curse, being beautiful while David was to be held prisoner by bonds of ink and graphite.

The ringing phone brought a welcome distraction from the multitude of papers that David was filling out. He had finally glimpsed a rescue helicopter that would take him away from the flood. Surely he should not ignore possible business.

Not even bothering to get up from his desk, a slick tentacle darted towards the cordless phone and whipped it back into David's other hand. Punching the button to answer like a self-medicate button on a morphine drip, David put it up to his ear and tried to sound like he wasn't thrilled by the diversion from the current monotony.

“Pacific Fields; Bluffington, Minnesota. You have money, we have honey. What can I do for you today?”