On Main Street, south of the coffe shop and east of the pet store is a large brick office building.
It was probaly built in the 1940's, but no one knows for sure. And in this old brick office building which lies south of the coffe shop and east of the pet store on Main Street is where our loyal protagonist Charles works.
He works in an office, doing office things, making his financial analysis work.
Like making copies. Copies of things. Anything really, it doesn't matter. He just copies things. And, every five or so minutes, he goes and stands by a water dispenser, and talks to some guy. The guy could be tall, short. And all this time, while he is talking to some guy, who could be tall or short, he would sip his water. Right out of a styrofoam cup. Slurrrp. But Charles did not care.
Charles liked office work. He liked to make copies of things. He liked to sip water at a water dispenser. He liked to sit in a small cubicle and write stuff on paper. Paperwork. Is office work. He liked stapling things too. He enjoyed to small clicking noise of the stapler as it was pressed firmly against a stack of paperwork. Click.
But sometimes, Charles would have a sandwich, or a granola bar. Or any snack for the matter. He didn't mind. Because it was office work. And Charles liked office work. He enjoyed the crunchy noise of a granola bar. Crunch.
And the rotating fan kept on making that noise.
That noise was the only thing Charles did not enjoy about office work. He absolutely hated.........that noise.
But everything else was fine. The copying, the water breaks, the paper work, the stapling, and the snacking. It was all office work. And Charles loved it. With the burning intensity of a pure flame, he enjoyed it. He thrived in it, basked in it. It was like living in the limelight to him. It was his calling. Nobody could enjoy officed work like Charles. Nobody. Everyone else, they didn't know it. They were in his domain, his rule.
He was the king. King Charles. Charles chuckled at the thought of this, and promptly shot his boss 16 times in the chest, killing him instantaneously.
But Charles did not care. Because it was office work. And that was all that mattered.