|Strange Voice in the Ceiling
Author: Splatter-Painter52291 PM
It looks like Sarah Hillar is arguing with herself. She isn't. Actually, it's the annoying voice that narrates her life. It always exaggerates her simple life as an accountant. Apparently she isn't interesting enough. Please Read and Review.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Humor - Chapters: 7 - Words: 5,507 - Reviews: 15 - Favs: 3 - Follows: 7 - Updated: 09-03-09 - Published: 01-03-09 - id: 2616779
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The day started for Sarah with it's normal racket.
"Shut uuuuup." Groaned Sarah, as she looked up at the ceiling. "You do know We can hear you, right?"
...... Moving right along.... It was as a normal morning as ever, Sarah rolled out of bed to fix her first of many cups of coffee. She started with half a cup of coffee, then half cream and half of the world's sugar.
"Four spoonfulls! That's it! Not half the world's sugar!"
Whatever. After downing her first cup of coffee, Sarah got ready to go to work at the Slaughter House, er, I mean, the Place of Sausage Preparation.
"I'm just the Accountant. It has nothing to do with the actual killing of animals. They're just a client."
That pays extremely well.
"Well, yes, that's true."
Sarah went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. The sunken-eyed Zombie appearing reflection looked back at her, her long curly black hair in complete dissaray, a bit of eye-gunk dried at the corner of her eyes.
"I'd like to see you in the morning." grumbled Sarah.
No you wouldn't. I'm worse. Sarah snickered.
"Worse? That I would have to see."
Nope. Anyway, today was Rush Week for the ever vigilant Accountant. Taxes. Secretly, Sarah loved taxes,
"I do not."
But she pretends otherwise to get along with the rest of the population.
"Would you dislike the thing that brings in over $500 dollars a day?"
Well, no, I'd love it to death, but we're not talking about me.
Sarah brushed her teeth, hair, and started getting ready for work. She dressed in a smart gray skirt suit with sensible black heels. Boooooorring.
"Hey! I don't make fun of your outfits."
That's because you can't see me. heheheheheheh.
"Oh, shut up."
*cough* Well, Sarah went downstairs from her neat-as-a-pin condo and hopped in her flashy red convertable.
Her cute little light blue bettle.
Fine! Be boring! She hailed a taxi to the client's Workshop of Death on the outskirts of town. The Taxi driver, she noticed, was drop dead gorgeous.
"He is not."
You're no fun. You know that?
The Taxi driver looked at her through the rearveiw mirror. His eyebrow raised in a sexy smirk.
"Will you cut that out?"
Fine. The driver looked at her curiously through the rearveiw mirror. When the Taxi stopped infront of the Animal Death Trap, er, Sasauge Preparation Factory, Sarah paid the man, who drove off muttering about crazy chicks.
Sarah went through the large steel doors and screamed.
"Why am I screaming at the janitor?"
..... Because he's really a ninja.
"A Ninja mopping the floor?"
He's mopping it Ninja-style.
"I have an idiot narrating my life."
Suddenly the mop slips in the old man's hands and slaps Sarah in the face, soaking her hair and ruining her non-make up. Ha.
"Oh, my goodness!" Cries out the old man. "I'm so sorry! I don't know how that happened. It's never happened before!"
"I've got a good guess." Grumbled Sarah. *Looks away, whistling innocently.*
And so begins what seems like a perfectly normal day of Sarah's life.
"Wait. What do you mean, 'Seems like'? What's going to happen?"
I can't tell you. It's the end of the chapter.
"Tell me." Growled Sarah, looking up at the ceiling.
Nope. Can't. It's the end.
Heheheheheheh. Ultimate tool of author revenge.
End of Chapter One.