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Jon Midget / Text 12 of 12 / At Least She´s Not the Paperclip
"At Least She´s Not the Paperclip" by Jon Midget
SciFi/Fantasy text 12 out of 12 by Jon Midget. ←Previous - Next→
One day, while perusing the little corners all over the Wood, I discovered a little gem written by Alyssa George, a wonderful little story about her muse and the digital sludge that we all have to put up with, Microsoft Word. Then, a little while later, I found a similar gem—this time a story in which The Office Assistant is killed. It also introduces the world to the muse of Cecily Webster, a brainless little moth. And so, I decided to add my little bit to their depiction of MS Word's attempt to take over the world: THE BIRTH OF THE PAPERCLIP. I also use this story to introduce the world to my muse: an obnoxious little fairy with red wings who likes to distract me from whatever story I'm trying to focus on. Doink! *Fairy scowls at me for insulting her and her ... um, 'wisdom'?* |
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Taking a deep breath, I set my hands at the keyboard and started typing. I was going to finish the next chapter of Legend of the Whisper Wood that night, and nothing was going to get in the way.
Paladin knelt at the body and turned it over. It was a man. Soot and ashes clung to his damp clothing, but nothing on him was burnt. A severe gash swept across his forehead, the blood dried. His head—
*Stop!*
I slumped in my chair, closed my eyes, and hit my head against the desk. A quiet humming sound circled around my head and stopped. I didn't open my eyes. I knew she was there, right in front of me, standing between my head and the computer.
"Go away," I told her. "I'm trying to work on THIS story, and I don't need any distractions. Don't tell me about Martin and Alicia. Don't expound on the next adventures for Rachel and Jim. And whatever you do, DON'T even think about Archangel Bill. So unless you're here to inspire me about Paladin and Fauna, GO AWAY!"
I opened my eyes and ignored the red-winged fairy scowling at me.
*This isn't about inspiration—*
His head rolled back limply. His neck was broken. His eyes stared up towards the dark canopy of the Whisper Wood, thousands of feet overhead. Paladin closed the eyelids.
Doink.
I winced, jerking my hand up to the welt forming on my forehead.
Doink.
I winced again.
The fairy sat on top of the screen, her legs crossed and her eyes twinkling with a smug little smile. Her wings, red like as an ornamental plum fermenting on the sidewalk, buzzed intermittently.
"What are you doing?" I demanded.
*If you won't pay attention to me I have to find other ways to get it*
Doink. Another welt.
"What are you throwing at me?"
*Acorns*
"What acorns? I don't see any acorns."
Doink.
*They're invisible. That way you can't block them. And then you have to listen*
I scowled and concentrated on the screen.
He wondered how many more were like the man—dead, bodies strewn here and there throughout the Wood, left behind by the dragons and their wild—
Doink.
"Okay!" I threw my hands up. "What do you want? What other story do you want to tell me about? How would you like to distract me from finishing what I'm working on, today?"
*This isn't about distracting you*
She almost seemed to spit the words at me. She took a deep breath, her forehead lined with thought, and finally exhaled. Her wings buzzed again, a vivid red whir, and she flew toward me until she hovered only a few inches away.
"I'm going to go cross-eyed," I told her.
*Close your eyes*
I did. Her tiny hands against my forehead until she seemed to seep into my brain and a vision burst into my mind.
The Microsoft Corporate offices rose from the green woodland of Redmond, Washington. Rushing down, as if flying down from the sky, I passed through the walls, the foyer, the cubicled hovels of the first floor, and down through the floor.
Beneath the lowest level of the underground parking, I discovered the catacombs. Lined with eerie torches that flickered shadows on the grotesque figures carved into the walls, I drifted through. Granite statues, ten or twelve feet high, stood fifty feet apart throughout the tunnels. Nude figures—some male, some female—devouring small rodents through the mouthpieces of their bronze, horned masks.
At last the tunnel opened up into a large chamber. A hundred people, wearing the same odd masks that had adorned the statues, stood on benches in a semi-circle, all looking toward the lava-spewing chasm in the center. A tower rose on the other side of the chasm, and a man stood atop, commanding the others to bow and worship him.
"Bring out the Sacrifices," the man on the tower shouted, his scrawny voice matching his scrawny physique.
From the far side of the chamber, a door opened. Three large men—black pants'ed, bare chested, and hooded—pulled an enormous cage filled with creatures of all kinds. Elves, hobgoblins, succubi in flowing silks, incubi with long flowing hair, sirens, faerie creatures of all kind shrieked from inside the cage.
The people rushed toward the volcanic chasm, and the hooded men pulled the cage to its rocky edge. A chant began, rising out of the dozens of dark empty passageways, growing as the people began to speak the strange words and pound the rhythms with their feet, and ultimately booming in the chamber—the words and thumps echoing off the stone walls. Some kind of primitive machinery grappled onto the cage and lifted its back end in the air, the creatures inside sliding to the front.
The cage gate opened.
In a mass of flailing arms and legs, desperately grasping for something to keep themselves up, the creatures inside toppled into the chasm, bursts of fire eating their flesh and drowning out their screams.
A few managed to get away: a moth-like thing fluttering aimlessly in the cavern, bonking against the walls. An invisible, moody, sarcastic presence that mixed advice with insults. And my little red-winged fairy. She had been in the cage. And she had escaped.
"Rise," the scrawny man with the scrawny voice spoke from atop his tower, his eyes closed and arms gesturing to the pit. "May the void accept our sacrifice and grant us a new god of poetry, a new god of inspiration, a new god of the written word. And let him RISE!"
"Let him rise," the people chanted, slowly at first but ever-quickening their pace.
"Let him rise! Let him rise! Let Him Rise! LET HIM ARISE!"
Slowly, from the depths of the fiery chasm, a form appeared. A narrow, hollow, tall and rounded form. As the lava dripped away, I could finally see what it was: a giant paperclip with cartoonish eyes.
"Behold our God!" the scrawny man shouted.
"Behold the God!" the people echoed.
"Behold the god of the written word—the god of sterile, corporate grammar and syntax—the new god of poetry: FRANKIE THE FRIENDLY PAPERCLIP, TM Microsoft, Inc.!"
A dialogue bubble appeared above the paperclip's head:
The people cheered. The paperclip blinked at mathematically precise random intervals, and the scrawny man gestured the crowd to quiet down.
"Our task is not yet finished," he said. "We have ridded the world of its muses, but we must not allow others to take their places. Chaos would ensue. Writers would continue to follow their own artistic whims. We must prevent this from happening. We must ensure that Frankie the Friendly Paperclip, TM Microsoft, Inc. is installed on every computer of every writer in the world. Let its advice drown their individuality. Let its wisdom lull their creativity into unconscious stupor. Let its mindless knowledge turn originality into rote. Let it be the voice behind the rulers of the Earth."
"I promise you, if we do our part, when the muses return, reincarnated as they always eventually are, there will be no one attuned to their presence. They will never interfere with our global takeover again.
"ALL HAIL THE PAPERCLIP!"
The crowd echoed the call: "ALL HAIL THE PAPERCLIP!"
Another conversation bubble appeared:
"ALL HAIL MICROSOFT!"
The crowd immediately silenced.
"We'll add 'Microsoft' to its internal dictionary," the scrawny man reassured the paperclip's devoted worshippers.
The vision faded. I felt my fairy's hands leave my forehead, and I opened my eyes. My breathing was heavy and rasped, and sweat beaded on my brow. I felt my pulse in my neck and chest, and my hands were clenched. Slowly, I calmed down, and my body relaxed.
"That really happened?" I asked. My fairy nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "Well, I'm glad the mothlike muse got away. I kind of liked it, even if it was a little stupid. And the inivisible one, too. I'm sure its writer will be overjoyed that it survived."
*What about me?*
She cried out, folding her arms and turning away in her typical little pout.
*I was there too, and I was nearly sacrificed*
"Um ... yeah. I'm glad you made it out too"
She flew in close to me.
*Promise me something. Promise me you will never listen to the paperclip instead of me. Promise me its voice will not drown mine out*
The paperclip popped up, along with a conversation bubble:
I quickly turned back to the computer, zipping through the menus as quickly as possible:
"I promise," I told my muse. "It's even more annoying than you are."
She beamed, her red wings glowing like blushing moonlight.
*What story were you working on again?*
"Legend of the Whisper Wood. Paladin's in the forest, following the trail of burnt trees when he discovers a body on the ground."
*That's right* She snapped her fingers. *I had a great idea for Resurrecting the Scarlet Avenger. Have a temple stand next to the pillar, and when Martin and Alicia investigate—*
"But that's not the story I'm working on!" I became exasperated. "I promised not to cheat on you with the damn paperclip. Will you give make a trade and give me what I want, just this once? Advice for Paladin and Fauna. I'm just asking, for just one night, give me ideas for the story I'm actually working on!"
*I would if you would work on the right one. Just close the document and open up the Martin story. Trust me, this will be good*
I let out a heavy sigh. "Okay, I'll do it." I closed the file and opened Resurrecting the Scarlet Avenger. "So," I muttered, "you're talking about the scene when they enter ancient Elisar for the first time ..."
Martin circled around the pillar, keeping several yards between himself and the massive stone structure. It's height was even more stunning from this close than it had been when they first entered the valley—it towered thousands of feet in the sky. The moving clouds sent Martin's head spinning, half-afraid that the base, though nearly a hundred yards across, couldn't hold the structure up.
"What's that?" Alicia said. She pointed to an oblong triangular building, obviously made out of the same stone—whatever it was—that the pillar had been constructed out of.
"I wouldn't—"
She ignored me, quickly walking toward—
*Now about Paladin and Fauna ...*
I stared at the fairy, unable to believe what I was hearing.
*What if he discovers the Old Ones at the same time she discovers—*
"Don't!" I shouted at her. "You promised that if I started on this story you would stay on topic! You promised!"
She smiled her irritating, smug little smile I knew so well.
*Actually, you're the one who made promises to me. I didn't promise anything*
I sat there, motionless and silent, trying to come to terms with the fact I had just been hoodwinked by her. Again. She flew up to me and sat on my shoulder, leaning over and pecking me with a quick kiss on the cheek.
*But at least I'm not the paperclip*
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L. Shanra Kuepers
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)*grumble, grumble* ... I know the feelingYour muse is an ADD fairy! *cackles* Love it. "Bored now!" *acorn* "Bored now!" *acorn* Though then again, how do you know they're acorns? You've only got her word to take for it if they're invisible. Troubling thought.You know how Othello would never even dream to question Desdemona's fidelity until Iago suddenly put the thought into his head, and then Othello couldn't let the thought go? Now I know the feeling. Suddenly I have to wonder if my little fairy is really being honest about those things doinking off my head. Very troubling thought.Beneath the lowest level of the underground parking, I discovered the catacombs. 
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'At Least She's Not the Paperclip':
• Created by:
Jon Midget• Copyright:
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work 'At Least She's Not the Paperclip' by Jon Midget is licensed under a Creative Commons
Attribution 2.5 Sweden License.
• Keywords: Fairy, Gothic horror, Humor, Live sacrifice, Microsoft, Muse, Paganism
• Categories: Demons, Imps, Devils, Beholders..., Faery, Fay, Faeries, Humourous or Cute Things, Vampires, Zombies, Undeads, Dark, Gothic, Parody, History-based, Parallel or Alternate Reality/Universe
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