Written 30 October 2018
It was as he finished off his 8th Americano of the day that Sal first heard the voice.
“You're going to do it today.”
It was a mischievous, almost cartoonish voice. Sal looked around in alarm. It sure didn't sound like Carys.
“I'm. . . I'm sorry?”
Carys opted to ignore him, as per flipping usual.
“I said, you're going to do it today.”
That definitely wasn't Carys. He placed his novelty Cadbury’s Cream Egg mug on the desk, and with a quick glance around the office, he dashed to the bathroom.
After thoroughly dousing his sweaty face with cold water he opened the door to go back to his desk.
“You're going to do it today, you piece of shit.”
Sal retreated back into the bathroom..
“Hello?” He was in a disabled toilet. What a stupid question.
“Do it now.”
Sal began to shake more violently. Caffeine and panic coursing through his veins.
“Do what exactly?”
“Tell them all to go fuck themselves of course.”
“Right, and who exactly are you?”
“I'm the voice of reason that only manifests itself when someone has had 8 cups of coffee.”
Seemed plausible to Sal.
“You got here when it's dark. It's dark now. It will always be dark. Fuck it off, Sal. Let's go bowling.”
The voice did make some valid arguments.
When the paramedics came, Sal had been telling anyone who would listen to go fuck themselves. Even when they pressed the defibrillator against his chest he chanted his merry tune.
“Fuck you all. Fuck you all. Fuck you all.”
The paramedics loaded Sal into the ambulance. He was, for once, leaving work on time.