Sneaking In

This time they’ll let me in. This time I’ll cut the mustard.
I stride confidently up to the huge, heavy, wooden doors and thrust my hand out at the doorman.
“Jackson,” I say, smiling, but not beaming. “Ralph Jackson. I’m here for the event.”
The doorman looks at my hand like it’s something he’s scraped off his shoe.
“Yes. Well.” He taps at his data pad and flicks up and down the list. “I’m… sorry, Mr Jackson, but you don’t appear to be on the list.”
I give him my best scowl and stride off before he can strip any more of my dignity from me. Maybe I can try the back door.
I try and stroll casually around the back of the building. I catch a whiff of garlic: kitchens must be this way. I find a door that’s ajar and creep up to it. I swing it open, and the doorman is standing there, waiting for me.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“How did you…? Never mind.” I run off around the corner, cursing under my breath. “Dammit!” I punch the wall. Hmm, soft.
Vines run up from the ground to the top of the building. I give them a firm pull: they seem pretty sturdy. I scramble my way up to the first floor. No doorman.
The curtains are drawn.
The door is unlocked, and opens smoothly.
I pull back the curtains and discover the secret they’ve been hiding from me for all these months. I scream and scream until I go hoarse and my eyes water. Then I turn and run and dive off the balcony.

Posted in 2012-10-29 to 2012-11-11 - By Invitation Only | Comments Off

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