I Don't Seem So Bright in a Well-Lit Room

Chapter Twelve

Phrewy Tarmuster loved his horrible job, and perhaps his horrible job wasn't so horrible if he loved it. He always got to work three hours before a shift and left three hours after. He dreamed that one day The Node (or even a representative of The Node, a representative of a representative of The Node, or even a representative of a representative of a small pet belonging to The Node, should The Node happen to have a pet and that pet's representative needed representing) would recognize all the free overtime he did and reward him.

He didn't want a promotion; he loved his job after all. And he didn't want a raise; he didn't have any free time to spend it with all the overtime he received nothing for. He only wanted a small trophy to put on the one (empty) shelf he had in his tiny flat. He wanted a reason to invite people over. "Oh my!" they would exclaim and pick up his tiny trophy in their clammy hands. He would scold them for touching such an accolade with such clamminess and feel an enormous sense of satisfaction.

This satisfaction always enveloped him when he scolded people, for scolding people is what he liked most about his job in Lyme Node's Space Ship Parking Enforcement and Impound Lot Management. It was absolute bliss. It made him feel huge. It made him feel smarter than all those that occupied the offices and flats above his underground lot. It was almost in some ways (yet not at all in most ways) orgasmic.

His favourite part of the job was scolding someone looking for their impounded ship as they tried to talk him out of the hefty fine (that he purposefully marked up so he could then bring back down and appear to be doing them a huge favour). He would then scold them further for being cheap.

As far as scolding went, he perhaps did deserve a trophy, and the Human Resources department head Vas Melphoido agreed. He had been following Phrewy's career for some time and was quite impressed. He was not impressed with Phrewy's free overtime; it was purely the scolding.

Vas Melphoido liked to be scolded, and he liked watching security footage of the master at work. He was so impressed (and also titillated) that he, on this particular day, had purchased (with his own pocket money) a tiny trophy for his favourite scolder. He had even spent the extra two credits to have it engraved with "Hooray for Employee 67543! You fantastic little Son-of-a-Bitch!" and a small yellow winky face sticker. He had added son-of-a-bitch last minute. It was something he had heard friends call each other when playfully ribbing. The winky face ensured Phrewy knew that this was playful ribbing and not a slight on Phrewy's mother, who actually was quite terrible and deserved a good slight or two. 

Vas was so pleased with himself. He had never in his life done something nice for someone before, and he was sure that no one had ever done anything nice for Phrewy "Employee 67543" Tarmuster before either. He could tell by the way Phrewy scolded.

Indeed, it was true. Phrewy had never had anything nice done for him. This wasn't a reason to feel sorry for him. It wasn't because he was a sad and lonely man with no friends. Well it was because of those things, but those things were because he was an asshole who scolded everybody.

Vas got on the elevator from his mildly damp eighty-sixth floor office where he spent most of his time watching other employees do things such as scold. He descended down to the depths of the impound lot, rubbing his thumbs over the smoothness of the little gold plastic man with the wagging finger that stood atop the small trophy. He had practised dropping the trophy without breaking it several times. He would present the trophy to Mr. Tarmuster, "accidentally" drop it, and see a wonderful and rare display of joy-for-receiving-it and scolded-for-dropping-it mastery. It would be marvellous to behold. It would be like watching celebratory fireworks go off in an anger management clinic.

When he stepped off the elevator, he was hit by a waft of engine plasma and rust. He smiled and did a little dance. To get to the impound booth where an unsuspecting employee 67543 no doubt sat waiting to scold someone (or something for that matter), he would have to wander through a fleet of small-to-large ticketed and towed spaceships. He didn't get to see many spaceships in his day-to-day, and he found it quite exciting.