/lit/ - Literature

>>11715991
>Be me
>Be janitor
>Tuesday night again, have to go clean office space
>It's where computer programmers work, messy ones, leaving around candy wrappers. There's a vending machine here that they all seem to frequent.
>I look at the glass screen, and there seems to be few of the candy bars I like left.
>Not few; but one! I slot my coin into the machine, hear some clunking. Out comes the Hershey: so sweet, I predict.
>Somewhere in the back, I hear a strange wheeze, as if someone or something was perturbed.
>Oh well, I think, and sink my teeth into the brown sweetness.
>I put the wrapper, and all others I find strewn on the floor, into a plastic bag.
>Collect all the bin liners, collate them, and put in the bin.
>Next job: wipe the tables.
>As I wipe the third desk, I accidentally bump the mouse of a computer whose monitor was asleep. The screen flicks back and I see a document opened, the title is...
>You Bright and Risen Angels, I mutter
>Something crashes in a closet behind me, someone's here
>I grab the mop from a bucket, brandishing it as I go to open the closet door.
>It peeps, ajar, without my hand touching it. I step back.
>Then, swinging violently, out comes a shadow... The figure edges forward and the light catches his face.
>Chocolate smudges the sides of ugly lips, which sit on an ugly face.
>And who else c-could it be but William T. Vollmann, the newest and least experienced computer progammer in the office, finishing off his novel after hours
>He hisses at me in Arabic, surely something he learned while he was a journalist in Afghanistan, hanging with mujaheddin. His huge frame casts me aside as he bolts for the door, I fall, my mop clatters as it hits the ground.
Who but William T. Vollmann, I think.