This is based on a true story I made up.
I walk into the building. Work, of course. As it always is. Why would today be any different? Is it because I was calling attention to it? Or perhaps it's because this is a story and it's written down for you to read. Otherwise, why would you care? Why would I care?
I pressed the up button for the elevator. I heard the familiar ding. The doors open. A man and a woman were already in there.
“Going up?” I asked. I already knew it was going up, but the slightest bit of human interaction held its worth. Nobody talks to each other. With all these devices now, smartphones and whatnot, being able to have an interaction is a rarity. Society has changed on me. It used to be you had breakfast with people. Talk about your day to come. Read the newspaper. Now it's just grabbing a granola bar and go to work. What has happened? Maybe it’s just me.
They nodded. I walked in, heading into the back of elevator, in case more people
“Can you press 18, please?” I asked.
“Sure.” says the woman. She pressed the button with her long pink fake fingernail. Fifteen and 20 were already lit.
Everyone was in their own world. A mist of silence filled the shaft. I looked over at the woman.
She had on a pair of expensive sunglasses, designer dress and a bag that I feel was made for a Chihuahua. I wasn’t going to ask.
“Is there a dog in your purse?” Damn it! Maybe I should listen to myself more often.
She turned and looked at me, chewing her gum loud and obnoxiously, “What?"
“Nothing,” I said. I guess she didn’t hear me.
Again it was silent except for the ding of the ever-slow elevator.
“Never get stocks in waffles,” the man said out of the blue, “they’re a bad investment. I've lost a lot of money.” I looked over at him, I was shocked. Of all the things he could have brought up, he brought up investing in waffles. What a strange individual.
DING! Fifteen. The doors opened.
"Ugg, weirdos,” said the women as she left the elevator. Now it was just me and the waffle guy.
The doors closed.
“Thanks for that,” I said
“For what?”
“For telling me not to invest in waffles. That’s probably good advice.”
“Yeah sure, no problem.”
I then reach into my coat pocket and pull out a bottle of Aunt Jemima Syrup. I then tackled him to the ground and beat him with the bottle.
“I’m the CEO of Waffles! If you don’t like them, keep it to yourself.” I shouted while I beating him with the bottle.
Ding! The door opened on the eighteenth floor. A man was waiting in front and look at me beating this man with a bottle of syrup. I looked up at him.
“Take the stairs,” I said as the doors closed.
