The Cube People Read Free Page B

Stones’ “Gimme Shelter” became louder, so did the stoned giggles of Dean and Marsha. He envisioned Gillian dancing barefoot with her glass of wine being beautiful, entertaining, being her usual self. He looked down at the mess he’d made. A tiny stream of brine trickled toward the crack, pooled momentarily at its edge – surface tension holding for a second – then broke and dribbled into the earth.
    He cleaned up and brought Gillian her pickles. Dean and Marsha attacked the jar like savages. Gillian sexually deep-throated her pickle causing everyone to laugh to the point of crying. The pot was good.
    â€œYou might get some pickle action tonight buddy,” said Dean as he nudged Ryan. Gillian winked at Ryan. Ryan smiled back.
    All of a sudden, loud barking could be heard coming from underneath the window at the side of the house. “What the hell is that?” Dean asked.
    â€œThat’s Spike, our crazy neighbour’s pitbull.”
    â€œJesus, friggin’ thing sounds possessed,” laughed Dean. “What’s it doing?”
    â€œWhenever somebody walks by on the street, it runs up and down between the houses as if it was one of Satan’s very own hounds. The little bastard actually managed to get out once and bit me on the ankle.”
    â€œGood lord,” said Marsha, biting into a pickle.
    â€œWhy didn’t you have the thing put down?” asked Dean.
    â€œI told Bill, that’s the neighbour, I told him, ‘Bill, if that dog ever gets out and bites another person, I swear to God I’ll get him put down.’ Bill said that was fair enough.”
    Everyone sat stoned, listening to the dog growling and running up and down beside the house. “I don’t see anyone walking by,” commented Marsha.
    In the basement, the crack opened a little more.

Duck Feather Press
    PO Box 521
    Toronto, ON
    M5T 8A1

    January 2, 2006

    Re: Manuscript Submission
    Dear Colin:
    Thank you for sharing your manuscript, The Cube People , with us. Duck Feather Press unfortunately does not publish works of science fiction. We are only interested in works of literature.
    Best of luck with your writing.

    Sincerely,
    Judy Miller
    Editor, Duck Feather Press

Six months later…

Crazy Larry and Suzy Scratch
    I’m doing coding review on one of Dan’s programs. It’s a mess. I don’t think he even bothered to compile the damn thing. I fill in the last comment box, number 15, on our standard code walkthrough 811 form about which areas of code need to be fixed. Shortly after, I find yet another coding error. Another form is needed. I look for one in my filing cabinet, but of course I’m out. Off to the photocopier. I wouldn’t dare ask Carla to borrow a walkthrough form to copy – touching one of her pieces of paper might throw her into cardiac arrest. I’d ask Dan, but he called in sick again. Brita has her headphones on, her right leg is bobbing up and down, a piston, and I can make out the tinny sounds of heavy metal. Her headphones are big and make her look as if she might be running the radio on a World War II submarine. She appears to be reading some online leftist news service. I deduce this from the hammer and sickle in the upper left-hand corner of the screen. I tap her on the shoulder. She removes her headphones – screams and pounding drums erupt from the speakers. I’d have a headache within a minute.
    â€œYeah, what is it, MacDonald? What can I do you for?” she spits.
    â€œCan you give me an 811 form to photocopy?”
    â€œYeah, yeah, shit, just a second,” she huffs as she pauses her music.
    â€œDon’t want to miss a note of that,” I say.
    â€œFuck MacDonald, you got something against Slipknot?”
    â€œNo no, I’m just kidding you, Brita. Just seems a little loud for me.”
    â€œWe’re living in the bondage of capitalism. What happens when you don’t pay your