Javier Mullmort

The dull click… the dull click.  He rolled the words around inside his mind.  “I’m going to write a story, and it’s going to start with ‘the dull click,'” said Javier Mullmort to no one in particular.  “I’m going to be a pretty good writer.”  Javier’s thoughts drifted to his middle initial, the letter J.  J for “Jaaaaaaaaaaaalllll,” like his parent had fallen into a pit while christening him.  “Isn’t it weird and stupid that my first two initials are J and J, but one sounds like an H?” continued Javier as he tapped his pen against a blank piece of notebook paper.  “A ‘H’ or an ‘H’?” asked Javier.  “Language…”

Sniffing the sniff of a man with a booger in his nose that is just beyond a finger’s reach, he checked the watch he was not wearing, then looked through the large windows to his right.  Gray and rainy.  Tap, tap, tap.  Javier drew a smiley face on the otherwise blank page.  Briefly, his eyes glaze over, and then he turns the smiley face into a smiling flower.  “A daisy,” he says, as if in response to the previous sentence.  Black and red images of this daisy cutting up human bodies with a chainsaw flash through his mind, and he looks back toward the window.

A truck drives by.  Half a thought forms in Javier’s mind- “fly off the road and crash into here…” Just then, he sneezes.  “Damnit,” he exclaims, barely getting the word out of his mouth when another sneeze cripples his body and rattles his nerves.  Sniffling a couple of times and stretching a little, Javier reaches for his coffee that is actually tea.  He does not notice, though, as he scrawls “the dull click… the dull click” across the top of the page.