The Rebecca Frederick Chronicles
“The Elevator”
By Nicholas Rehfeldt
The school is in lock down… That’s what my cell phone said, and I know why. It’s because I just met the most annoying prick in the elevator just now….
“Just now” was forty minutes ago. I was aggravated, just by the notion of having to attend classes at my college. There’s no parking and the new school building is half way across campus from said parking lot. Worst of all, in the back of my mind, I was sure my car was going to get ticketed because I parked on the grass.
But the absolute worst? I mean the thing that was grinding my gears at that very minute? ‘Was waiting for that fucking elevator. It had been two minutes since I called for it, and I was actively crumbling my half filled soda can with rage.
Keep calm, Becca. I thought to myself, No need to go into a blood lust rage. Not here. Just keep calm and navigate through your day. Think of home. Think of Mom. Think of that cigarette and glass of rum you’re going to treat yourself to tonight. Think of anything, but DO NOT think about grabbing the head of that political science major to your right and smashing it into the concrete wall.
One of the two elevators open, it was signaling that it was going down to the ground floor but I didn’t care. I walked in and press the 3rd floor button and pressed up against the wall as the sheeple filed in behind me.
“It’s going down.” says the effeminate male voice to my left. He’s a hipster, and I’m in no mood to deal with hipsters.
“Well that’s the thing about elevators… They go down and up!” I snarl at him.
He didn’t say anything. He just scoffed. Or was it a scoff? It could have been a sigh… Perhaps a groan? Oh, Hell, I don’t know but it set me off.
“Oh, I’m sorry! Are we annoying you by not abiding to your arbitrary silly elevator rules?” I snapped. The audience of 8 or so of our peers stared at me disapprovingly. They were all giving me that non-verbal cue that they weren’t with me.
“You’ll get to your precious fucking ground floor before I get to the third, so fuck you!” I finished.
“Well…” He rolls his eyes “I have a AV cart here, and you’re all going to have to move your precious little behinds so I can get out. So technically, yes, you are unconvincing me and this girl here.” He shot back at me “This is why you follow the rules, so you don’t hinder innocent people with better things to do.”
I stared at him hard for a moment. His wallet probably had a hundred dollars in it. The bitch next to him was wearing this awfully pretty white fur coat. I pressed the emergency stop button. Curses and questions abound, and I recall feeling bad for the innocent ones.
But, hey, wrong place wrong time, right?
I hit the enchanted gizmo on my wrist, the magical inference caused the lights to flicker.
“Sorry Mom.” I said under my breath as I grabbed the first girl in front of me. I placed my hand over her face and crushed it and felt it explode in my hands like an orange. A fine red mist sprayed in every direction, and everyone started to scream but there was no where to run. I went down the line, squeezing and crushing… The girl in the white coat made an admirable attempt to get away, pleading to a higher power “No! Nononono!“ before I got my claws into her. Then finally, it was just me and him.
He was petrified. “P-P-Please!” He stuttered. I smiled at him.
“Couldn’t just let me ride the fucking elevator in peace?” I ask, and I grabbed his testicles. He screamed, hollering like a new born baby. He fell down in a slump, crying in pain. I wanted him dead, so I caved his skull in with my steel toed boot.
…
He only had twenty-five dollars in his wallet. The coat was nice though, a quick spell cleansed it and me of all the blood. The hallways were empty when I left the elevator, and I skipped merrily to my class and took my seat. The girl next to me complimented me on my new coat, and I coyly told her I just got it.
But my mood was quickly shattered. A campus text message announcing the school was in lock down. What an pain in the neck. Next time? I’ll take the stairs.
END.
Man, and I thought you were a fucking tool at 411mania.com. Turns out you’re a shitty writer too. I’m also gonna guess you wish you were really born a girl, right?
LOL, don’t quit your day job, you fucking ugly mongoloid.
I’m actually more pleased than punch that you actually took the time to read and write a comment.
Actually, that’s a real fair assessment. It’s crap. So are the videos that have been posted. *shrugs* but what can I do? I stand before you anonymous horde of the internet and be all “This is me.”
I get torn to pieces, then I get torn to pieces. So be it.
lol, nice attempt at trying to be all “Oh, I am so glad you commented on my story, tee hee!”
I guess you’ve been so busy giving Enrique hypothetical BJ’s you couldn’t come up with a more witty retort, ya fucking hack you.
No. That’s actually pretty genuine. Comes across more snarky than I meant but hey, I was drunk.
Also a hack is somebody who’s talented who sells out and takes jobs for the money. I genuinely have no talent, and I’m obviously not making any money. I realize you probably don’t care, but that’s the real meaning behind the phrase.
I have to ask, do you really genuinely care about my comments on some article or is this just the result of boredom and me just a likely target?
Is kinda a valid point though. I’m not really proud of the majority of work up here. I should get around to pulling it down, shouldn’t I? Maybe later.