The Office -------------------------------------------
The clocks had struck thirteen but no one in the
office seemed to budge: they were all busy doing
whatever it was they had been doing for the past
several hours. Freeman scoot his chair over to Morgana
and mumbled some inaudible mumbo jumbo: he got his
across the face like a dog and with care scoot his
chair back to its lonely quarters. Marx spread himself
out in his chair so far that the dinky legs could
barely hold him: he scrolled his small beady eyes
across the room from one corner to the next and then
proceeded to unravel a piece of parchment paper upon
which he had written the daily news: something for
which but two sentences of mumbo jumbo could account.
The office stood silent: men worked dutifully at their
An obscure figure appeared before the large grimy
window of the office: it sported two obscure
instruments for clearing grime off office windows. And
indeed the windows were grimy.
Marx stood up: he hoisted his large sweaty rear to an
upright position. He mumbled some obscure mumbo jumbo
and waved his fists in the air as though he was a
cowboy ready to lose control and fall off his horse:
he was struggling to maintain a proper balance on his
puny little legs.
A blinding light entered the walls of the office: it
bounced about gleefully as though it was some killer
flu ready to infect anything in its path.
The window washer looked into the room: his eyes were
barely visible through the still-remaining gunk that
parried the windows.
A little bird perched itself outside the window on a
little protrusion used for miscellaneous things: one
could only imagine its sweet hum; it was inaudible.
Marx barked at the top of his voice: he yelled obscure
mumbo jumbo: he spat it, his face, bloated and
He yelled and he yelled and the office shook: its
The window washer’s eyes were fixated on the fat man:
for a moment his eyes were visible, staring at a
peculiar bit of vacant space. And for a moment, the
office seemed buzzing with activity: the bird sang and
the sun danced and the fat man jumped and the window
washer stared and the men having parted with their
work now all looked at the window washer. But only for
Once again the office fell silent: men worked
dutifully at their quarters. Marx's beady eyes
scrolled the premises: from one corner to the other,
from one worker to the next. For a moment there was
nothing in the office.
The Office isn't a story. Since you expected it to be one, I'm not surprised you didn't understand it. I'd like to ask you to take your comment down so that others aren't turned away from the piece before they even read it.
Ok, where to start. I have to say that this story has inconsistancies.
This reads as if a 5 grader tried to tell a story while trying to use words that were beyond them. The descriptions used were so over used that it made any attempt to understand the write useless.
I cannot tell if this was written by a child or if it was written by someone with little understanding of the english language.
Trying to tell us what Freeman (or was it Marx and are they the same person?)was feeling while he moved his fat butt was a bit too much because the description was out of place. Almost s if you were trying to hard.
The window washer is described almost as an object and if I had not read further in the story I would not have realized that you refered to IT as a human.
The use of mumble Jumbo is over used and it seems that all this was written after reading an old Sam Spade novel.
Over all I give this a 2 rating, only because you had the courage to post it.