Everyone sits in their respective cubicles working diligently. The sound of clicking keyboards, phones ringing, and copy machines humming. The harmonious sum is greater than its tone-deaf parts. Folks, it's official, this is the sound of productivity.
And then the fire alarm goes off at work.
A shrieking sound emanates from the intercom and quickly crescendos and diminuendos in rapid succession. Each iteration picking up steam as the sound reverberates off the wall and feeds into the next pulsating wave. This ear-bleeding shriek dances in perfect synchronicity with the red lights. Satan just opened up a nightclub in our hallway and the cover charge is your hearing and sight.
And then the fire alarm goes off at work.
A shrieking sound emanates from the intercom and quickly crescendos and diminuendos in rapid succession. Each iteration picking up steam as the sound reverberates off the wall and feeds into the next pulsating wave. This ear-bleeding shriek dances in perfect synchronicity with the red lights. Satan just opened up a nightclub in our hallway and the cover charge is your hearing and sight.
Press button to ignite fire.Naturally, you would expect papers to fly in the air as people madly rush for the exit while elbowing catering service out of the way. And of course, two or three employees plowing through a plateglass window that is carefully being carried by two extras from the set of Dukes of Hazzard.
However, the reaction is counter-intuitive. The reaction is no reaction at all.
No sense of urgency. No panic. Recognition only through small talk. Question from a female who is filing paperwork, "Should we go?". Followed by the answer from a male who is masturbating, "Nah, just a drill."
Then Satan kicks it to a higher gear. Not by upping the voltage on the sound nor by bursting corneas with an orb of red light...he just uses the power of persistence.
The light continues, the sound continues, and the lack of urgency among the staff is replaced with heavy sighs directed towards the intercom. Question from a female who is doing her nails, "What's it like outside." Followed by the answer from a male who is still masturbating, "Mid-50's, bring a coat."
The employees nod at each other in recognition. They know what must be done. The only way to stop this out of tune Ozzfest is for a mass exodus down the staircase. A display of unity for the fire department. The masses clog the stairwell. They rapidly descend using short staccato steps. A centipede comprised of hundreds of people twisting and turning to exit. Finally, everyone is outside. Question from a female putting on her makeup, "Are you still masturbating?" Answer from the male, "Yeah, sorry. I like my junk."
The fire department, drunk with power, is happy with the outcome. They observe the monkeys in their suits. They confirm everyone's morning is ruined and wave everyone back in.
However, the reaction is counter-intuitive. The reaction is no reaction at all.
No sense of urgency. No panic. Recognition only through small talk. Question from a female who is filing paperwork, "Should we go?". Followed by the answer from a male who is masturbating, "Nah, just a drill."
Then Satan kicks it to a higher gear. Not by upping the voltage on the sound nor by bursting corneas with an orb of red light...he just uses the power of persistence.
The light continues, the sound continues, and the lack of urgency among the staff is replaced with heavy sighs directed towards the intercom. Question from a female who is doing her nails, "What's it like outside." Followed by the answer from a male who is still masturbating, "Mid-50's, bring a coat."
The employees nod at each other in recognition. They know what must be done. The only way to stop this out of tune Ozzfest is for a mass exodus down the staircase. A display of unity for the fire department. The masses clog the stairwell. They rapidly descend using short staccato steps. A centipede comprised of hundreds of people twisting and turning to exit. Finally, everyone is outside. Question from a female putting on her makeup, "Are you still masturbating?" Answer from the male, "Yeah, sorry. I like my junk."
The fire department, drunk with power, is happy with the outcome. They observe the monkeys in their suits. They confirm everyone's morning is ruined and wave everyone back in.
Alright, you overpaid asswipes. Back inside. Except no one is heading back in.
Hmmm, it's 11:15. Technically, not too early for lunch. Plus all the fatties waiting for the elevator will clog the lobby. That's at least another 15-minutes. Screw it, going to lunch. All that masturbating has made me hungry.
