The Unusual
Elle thrashed her desk with the ergonomic keyboard she got for Christmas from her boss. She savagely ripped every reference material around her cubicle. Her nails, sharp as knives, left gashes in the pastel color padded dividers.
“Elle, we’ll figure something else to do,” said her boss, a frail short man with a lisp.
“What are we going to do? Tell me? What are WE –“she pointed at him, and a few other coworkers crowded around her, “- going to do? If we’re no longer protected, then we might as well be deer in a shooting range.”
The government’s press conference continued in the background, the sound getting exponentially louder because the head of HR was fiddling with the remote. He glared at Elle, at her boss, and at all the people huddled behind her.
“Fellow Americans, this bill will remove these unusual creatures out of our daily lives. This bill gives you, the people, the power to strike down the horrors we’ve been forced to accept under the past –“the president’s voice prompted Elle to launch a paperweight at the TV, creating a hole in the screen and eventually causing it to putter-out.
“I’m feeling quite threatened Elle,” said the Greg, the head of HR, taking out his concealed revolver.
A bright yellow alert with a corresponding screeching sound broke the silence permeating the office after Greg’s veiled threat. The alert came from the wristbands provided by the government to all those deemed unusual – Elle included. Every soul at the United States Unusual Citizenship Services office knew what that meant.
“Looks like you’re out of a job,” said Greg. Before he could even aim his gun, Elle ripped his head out with her bare hands.
“Looks like you’re dead, Greg,” she said grasping the severed head so tight the bone was audibly cracking.
When the alert turned red, all those unusual were dead.
Story & Picture by: © Wil Redd
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