Griffin was a freelance writer, working from home on a blender instructions manual.
The client wanted something that took you on journey, as opposed to the usual list of ‘these buttons do this’ manual. Griffin’s earlier Tolkien-inspired ‘Lord of The Blend’ angle had won them over, so he’d been working long hours to turn the idea around in time.
Last night his girlfriend’s all-female Rush tribute band had headlined The Rivoli, and he was still stoned and hungover when he woke up facing today’s deadline.
The morning coffees eventually kicked in and, when his stomach started rumbling, he went to the kitchen.
Two slices of bread. Boom. A smear of peanut butter. Pow. Awesome red jelly. Biff! But as he raised his knife to cut the sandwich diagonally…
It moved six inches to the right.
And in that way your mind has of shielding parts of itself from crazy shit, it simply told the motorskill part of itself “try to cut the sandwich again”, while the cognitive part busied itself remembering the lyrics to Bonnie Raitt songs.
But when the sandwich moved itself off the counter and onto the floor, his mind made him bend over to pick it up.
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But when the words “NO KILL I” rose to the surface of the topmost slice in spidery jelly letters, his entire being came online. He ate lunch from the office, spooning peanut butter out of the jar, keeping a suspicious eye on the sandwich as it inched its way around the corner and out of sight.
He missed his deadline.
And, he realized, he missed his girlfriend.
And when she came over that night, she hugged him when he agreed they should go on that vacation she’d been saying they both needed.
But the sandwich was already in Paris.