At 7 a.m. the moon was still visible and the beer from last night left an ache in his crown. Chris stepped off the bus and made the same face he made the day before. Predictable and tiresome, he thought. He yawned and began walking. He passed a little girl holding up a sign that read something to the affect of “Cookies: Buy one get one free.” She was standing outside the front door of a supermarket and she was headless. He kept walking. He walked through the aisles upon aisles of parked cars that looked up to all the surrounding buildings. Soon he saw the front door of his office, the gates of judgment that lead into the distorted guts of hell. He went in. The air was dense. He looked back over his shoulder at the morning air waving goodbye from the outside.

He made it down the hall and entered the break room. The yellow fluorescent bulbs sizzled above his head. Everything else was still. He punched in his number and the little light on the time clock went green. Markus and Corey looked up from their coffees.

“Hey Chris,” Markus said.

“Another exciting day,” Chris said. “How’s it been?”

“Pretty quiet.” Markus held up his cup of coffee. “Gotta love the benefits though.”

“I was just telling Markus here about a movie I watched,” Corey said. “It was based on this fucked up book.”

Chris reached for the coffee and poured a cup. “Which one?”

Corey leaned back in his seat and brought his hand up to his goatee. “I can’t remember the name of it… Shit, I’ll think of it. Anyway, the scene that the movie opens with is just too funny.”

Chris walked to the table where they were sitting and sipped his coffee. It was bitter and room temperature.

“These cop cars are racing to a domestic disturbance call,” Corey said, “and the camera’s cutting everywhere, lots of action; like a hardcore high-speed chase. You’re thinking where the fuck are they going? They get to this house and they set up outside like a fucking SWAT team. And you hear this sound, like a woman being murdered, coming from inside the house. The screaming was LOUD. The cops bust inside the house and follow the screaming to the bedroom and they kick open the door.” Corey used his hands and his body to act out the scene to Chris and Markus. Chris and Markus occasionally glanced at each other and exchanged nonverbal signs of disinterest for the story. “When the door flies open you see this guy just fucking the shit out of this girl, really railing her hard!” Corey’s face was red and his smile reminded Chris of a school kid with dirty secrets. “And the cops grab the girl and they throw the guy on the ground and start to cuff him. ‘Wait, what the fuck are you doing?’ and the cops are like, ‘We have a call of domestic violence from one of the neighbors. Now what is going on here?’ Everybody is hysterical, the cops got their guns drawn—it was crazy! And the cops look at the girl, and she starts saying over and over, ‘I’m deaf, I’m deaf!’”

Corey laughed hysterically and Chris and Markus just stared at him. The laughing got worse as Corey repeated the words, “I’m deaf! I’m deaf!” He brought his hands up to his chest and jutted out his lower jaw; each time his voice was louder and his attempt to imitate the girl made him sound absent of a tongue. Markus shook his head. Chris refilled his coffee and stuck the cup in the microwave, hit 30 seconds and started it. After his laughing Corey said “It’s no longer in the theaters though. It didn’t do too well. Just rent it, or find it online, you won’t regret it.”

“Yeah, I might, if knew what it was called,” said Markus.

“I’ll remember it, I will. I’ll let you know.”

Chris brought his lips to the cup. The coffee was just right. He looked around the break room and began to notice these new colorful posters stapled to the walls—wallpapering the break room. It startled him that he hadn’t noticed before. On each poster there were photographs of employees working, walking, mingling around the office, providing sound customer service over the phones. They strutted between cubicles with utter confidence and were loving life. Some pictures even portrayed these people giving the thumbs-up to the camera, all smiling, dressed in clean suits, well-groomed, white teeth.

“The fucking posters they put up in here,” Chris said. “Look at it. Look over here, shit, there too! Actors pretending to work for this company. They don’t have a fucking clue. No one who works for this company is that happy to be here. Who really wakes up in the morning and wants to do what we do? And if they actually do exist, I guarantee they are even more miserable than us for having such a great ability to lie to themselves.” Chris then pointed around the room. Markus and Corey followed his finger as he went from poster to poster: “Propaganda! Propaganda! Propaganda! That’s all it is! Wait till there’s a television in here broadcasting their values to us. Such shit! I don’t know why Sandrich allows it! It’s sickening how stupid they take us for.” He shook his head and leaned against the counter. “I’m telling you, it’s coming. And with the economy the way it is we all have to take a bow, sit and spin on the big glorious dick that pumps us full of paid bills and clothes on our backs. The big corporate dick. It doesn’t tolerate the individual no matter how prolific your ideas are. And you either ride with it or they dump your ass. This place is the new Third Reich.”

Markus laughed. “I’m pretty sure you just compared this job to being a Nazi.”

“Of course! We’re all Nazi’s against our will. Why not? There’s no massive wide-spread murder involved, not yet. But if you think about it, this job could be compared to our Army too, or any branch of the military. You sign a contract with them, don’t you? Give up your basic human rights? This place is a country of it’s own, or even a church of it’s own, a cult… And sure, you could compare this job to organized religion, or you could compare it to—”

“Wait a minute,” Corey said.

Chris paused. He looked at Corey and noticed his smile from before was gone. He looked at Markus and Markus looked back.

“You know,” Corey said. “When you say this company could be compared to organized religion Chris, that offends me.”

Chris made a puzzled face.

“What?”

“You see, I’m a religious person,” Corey said. “It’s been a major part of my life since I was a kid. I don’t expect other people to have the same beliefs as I do. I mean, everybody is entitled to believe what they want.”

“Are you serious?”

Corey nodded. “I have strict religious beliefs, Chris. And to hear someone talk of Christianity like that. I mean, it’s one thing to not like your job, but it’s not like we go out and shove our beliefs down peoples throats every day…”

Markus coughed into his fist and choked back a laugh. Corey glared at him, then looked back at Chris.

“It’s not a very good idea to talk about something that offends my beliefs, people get fired that way.”

Chris emptied his coffee and set the cup down. “Are you fucking with me?” Corey just sat there with a very stern look on his young red face. “No, I’m serious, man. You can believe what you want, but don’t start talking against someone’s beliefs at work. You heard about what’s-his-name last week, right?”

Chris nodded.

“Well, he was in here during lunch, talking and talking, and he offended someone. Two days later, they let him go.”

“I heard about that,” Markus said. “Something about gay people or suicide bombers?”

“I’m not going to say one thing or another.”

Corey folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.

“Hold on,” said Chris. “You just sat there and depicted the police halting a guy from fucking a deaf girl who was screaming loud enough to concern the neighbors into calling 911, then imitated the girl, (making her sound like she had down syndrome), laughing the whole time like a goddamn hyena, and you’re going to say that me comparing this shit job to organized religion offends you?” Chris paused, thought for a moment, then said, “Wouldn’t you have felt, since you are of religious belief, that any part of your little story was amoral?”

“I, I’m just saying Chris,”

“And now you’re sitting there, threatening me?”

“Just don’t say another word about Christianity!”

“You’re a goddamn hypocrite crybaby!”

“You don’t know what you are talking about Chris!”

“You’re one to talk, you son-of-a-bitch!”

Amidst their arguing the break room had come to life. Real brimstone and fire. In the distance you could hear the storm closing in. The walls rumbled. The fluorescent lights began stuttering on and off on and off. One light fixture sparked. It rained white, burning metal in a woven pattern that disappeared into the linoleum. The microwave revved up until it was glowing with ferocity inside. Corey spoke in a very stubborn tone and it only rattled Chris further. Markus laughed and laughed. All of their voices fought for the top position of this song’s crescendo.

Then they noticed Mr. Sandrich. Who knows how long he had been standing there. His face was twisting, boiling, and his eyes bulged out from under his bushy white eyebrows. He abruptly barged between Chris and Corey, reached for the coffee and boasted, “THERE IS NO TALKING OF POLITICS OR RELIGION WHILE YOU ARE IN THE WORKPLACE!”

“That’s what I was trying to tell him Mr. Sandrich,” pleaded Corey. His face was redder than ever and he had his finger pointing in Chris’ direction. “You say the wrong thing at work and it offends people—”

“You’re ridiculous,” Chris said. “People like you are the reason why John Lennon—”

“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT!” said Mr. Sandrich. “NOT IN THE WORKPLACE!”

Markus’ laughter slowly quieted down.

“GET TO YOUR DESKS! YOU HEAR THOSE PHONES? THERE’S CUSTOMERS WAITING!” The lights popped on, back to their normal buzzing. The microwave sat still. Everything sat still. Sandrich glanced at the posters and drew a proud breath, then walked out with his coffee. Before exiting he finished with, “NOW, GO GET SOME WORK DONE!” The door slammed behind him and Chris reached for a third cup of coffee.

• Short Stack