Would-be Journalism
by BoredAsAnythingSide, Jun 4, 2010, 4:59:22 AMLiterature / Prose / Fiction / General Fiction / Short Stories
"Welcome to the team, Melody. I think you'll be very happy here at FAS Industries. From our European beginnings, this latex glove company has spanned all over the world, and we hope you are proud to be one of us"
Melody sighed inwardly and put on a fake smile. Part of the team. Bullshit. All she would do is load the crates of gloves into trucks, by her self, for the rest of her time here. That was the way her life and been for the last 8 or so years. After that incident with the legendary birds, she had found she seeked thrills where-ever she went, and she felt too caged to stay in school any longer. She spent two years traveling and seeing the world. Some good it did her though. When she finally came back, she was out of money, her parents had disowned her and she had only competed school with a grade 10 education. She was doomed to a life of boring and menial jobs, stacking something over there, or moving that over here.
Melody wished she had stuck with her original life plan. A journalist. Traveling the world, uncovering scandals and secrets. It would have been more of a thrill that anything she had done in those 2 years. But she had stupidly decided to throw that dream away for cheap thrills, and now she was stuck in the life, doomed. Her employee droned on about her tasks and codes of conducts. She, at least, seemed like a nice boss. Friendly and sociable, and, most importantly, female. Half the male bosses shed had given a try at a pinch on the bum. The half, she assumed, were probably gay.
"There is one thing that is most important. You must never EVER open the boxes. All gloves are stored with a special compressed powder to keep them in maximum shape, and are removed when it reaches its destination. However, the powder is very poisonous to humans, so please take the utmost care. "
That was weird. Why store gloves in a poisonous pile of powder? Surely there was a better option?
"Now, I need to head off, so if you'll excuse me" With that, the manager walked off, and Melody set to work. As usual.
Three weeks later.
"Very good work Melody! It's like you've been doing this you're entire life"
Oh the Irony. Oh the delicious irony. Melody stifled a grim smirk and kept going with her work. Her manager, whose name she had found out to be Eve, was watching her contently. She had been a very good boss, giving her extra time off and chatting with her every day. They had almost become friends, which Melody seldom made. It felt good to talk with someone she trusted. Melody bent down to pick up a large crate, and was suddenly aware of a familiar pinching sensation on her behind. She shot up, and prepared to unleash merry hell on whichever horny old man was standing behind her. But when she turned, all she saw was Eve, looking at her questionably.
"Is everything alright?"
"Yeah...Fine. Just thought I...never mind"
Eve smiled, and walked off. There was something about that smile. She couldn't of....could she?
One week later
It was a disaster! A crate had fallen off, and nobody was around to help her. She covered her face in a damp cloth, and kept her eyes tightly shut. No whooshing sounds of squeezed dust came. Slowly, she opened one eye. The crate was open alright, but there was no sign of dust. Maybe the machine had missed it? It was lucky break for her then. She could have died! OHS would have had a field day! Then she noticed something odd. Instead of neatly piled bundles of pink gloves in the box, there was an assortment of all kinds of colours. Slowly, she moved over to the box, and realized that the crate didn't carry gloves at all. Well, not as its main cargo. Inside were suits, hundreds of them, and all of different colours and shapes. While still made of latex, it was obvious these suits were made for something far nastier than dish-washing. They were made as Pokémon! There was a Roserade, and a Gardevoir, and even a Mawile suit! Who would wear this stuff? Melody knew the right thing to do would be to report it to Eve...but...she couldn't shake the feeling that wasn't a good idea. Maybe it was her journalistic instinct, but she decided to keep this a secret.
