True evil knows no bounds. It expands and takes; it gives nothing, and takes everything.
Staring at a now black computer screen, an average office worker began for his trek home. He grabbed his old blue jacket, his suitcase, and slightly tattered pride. There is no more noble then a pencil pusher. As he walked out of his cubical he waved goodbye to his coworkers who still remained to finish their mountain of work. Most of them have no family to get home to. While considering the home lives of his coworkers, our pencil pusher's thoughts began to drift to his own family. His wife only a year younger than him was not a prize for the superficial. Her nose was slightly hooked, and very small. Her eyes were a dull blue almost gray, but upon seeing her husband return, they sparkled like the most brilliant of diamonds. A computer wire connecting across two cubicles ended his thoughts quite drastically, and allowed him to meet the gray carpet floor. Once he had yelled a few choice words into the carpet he got back to his feet. To his dismay he found that his suitcase had opened, and sent his carefully organized papers across the floors. The man practiced his self-control, and calmly kicked his suitcase a good ten feet. Surprisingly this did nothing to improve the situation, or his mood. Grumbling to himself the pencil pusher got to his knees, and began collecting his papers. "Well if it isn't one of my loyal serfs on his hands an knees were he belongs!" said a playful voice; playful in the same way a cat is playful with a mouse. As the "serf" raised his head, sod did his temper. For standing before him was his boss's pride and joy Jane. Jane even without heels was easily a head taller than most men, and on this particular day, she wore bright red converse. He stood straight up, gathered himself, and glared right at her neck. "Get back on the ground serf."
This time actually using his self-control he bit his tongue and said nothing. The seventeen years old heiress let out an amused laugh, and walked on past him. Once he was sure she was gone he began to collect his papers, and headed toward the elevator. As he did his thought drifted back to the face that would await him once he got home. This was interrupted again not by a wire, but by the realization that Jane took the elevator, whose button he was now jamming. A chill ran down his spine as he saw the numbers go down on the elevator. He was not sure why but he had an ominous feeling about it. Shrugging of the feeling he decided to take the stairs to the parking garage. Down down down went the steps. As did his feeling that skipping the elevator did. His bad ankle, a childhood injury, was throbbing like crazy. Relief flooded over him once he reached the parking garage door. The pencil pusher walked out into the parking garage, and was met by a rush of cold air. Smiling at his throbbing ankle, and the handicap sticker that came with it he walked a whole two feet to get into his car. Throwing his suitcase in the back, and starting the car he began to back out of his space. Then something caught his attention. It appeared to be a small gleam in his rear view mirror. Peering closer he realized it was no more than tinfoil in the wind. Laughing at his own paranoia he pulled out and headed down the ramp. Once on the street he was pleasantly surprised at the lack of traffic. The pencil pusher made good time on his way home. And was dismayed to find that their were no parking spaces by his apartment driving a block down he finally found a space. Dreading his already throbbing ankle he got out of the car and walked home. He walked up the steps to his apartment and opened the door. On the couch sat his wife, a glass of wine in in one hand a smoking revolver in the over, her hair stained with her blood.
True evil knows no bounds. It expands and takes; it gives nothing, and takes everything.