text: Hello short stories, This comes from a strange musing I got. Just a forewarning it has some violence, but it really has no deeper meaning. There is no political metaphor or any kind of symbolism it's just something weird that popped up in my head and I had to write it down. I hope it. . .intrigues you. All was silent, all was dark in the pitch black room. For almost thirty minutes the valued employee waited until a single metal door swung open and slammed onto the wall upon which it was fixed. The open frame painted one lone ray of light on the floor. Then footsteps, like a raucous cacophony of hail, flooded the hallway leading to the room. Man after man poured through the door, each one a mirror image of the other. They were all dressed in black suits and ties, pressed and fitted, with a striped tie and black coiffed hair. A keen eye would immediately mark them all as salary men, seemingly taken from your pick of any mid twentieth century ad campaign. Their fine dress and well shaven faces would place them somewhere directly in the rank and file of the army of American middle management. Each one had the endearing, grinning smile of a high caliber salesperson or politician. They all ran, one behind the other, in a line with a gait that was more like a hectic scurry than a dignified march. As they came into the room they turned their heads to stare directly at where the employee was sitting, alone and barely visible, in the darkness. The line stopped moving before turning to face him, each man shoulder to shoulder. In the hands of every man was a solid hickory billy club, painted black, and grasped with such hateful force that the bones of their hands show through their skin. No sooner had the last man come through the door than did it shut with a deafening crash. What followed was, again, only silence and darkness. Several agonizing minutes passed and a single lightbulb flickered on in the center of the room, illuminating the cheerful and smiling faces of the line of more than thirty men. All was quiet until the echoes of hurried footsteps approached from the other side of the door. Once again the metal door flew open, as if kicked, and slammed full force into the painted cinder block wall with a deafening crash. The one man that entered looked the same as all the rest, except in his hands was a briefcase. Out of the case he pulled a piece of paper. His eyes darted over the paper as he silently read it with a cheerful and genuine smile. After reaching the end of the page he shoved it back into the briefcase, turned around and scurried out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Silence ensued for only a brief moment after the metal door slammed shut. Each of the thirty men, still grinning with charming and inviting smiles, then leapt forward without hesitation and began beating the valued employee to death. Rapid and powerful blows covered him in the frenzy as the sound of shattered bones could be heard one after the other with mechanical efficiency. The beating was carried out as quickly as possible as if being done on a timetable without a moment to lose. An unrecognizable lump of blood and flesh, contorted in all directions, was all that remained. Each of the men then hurriedly filed out of the room just as they had entered it and the door slammed behind them. The light went out and finally, once again, the room was filled with only silence and darkness.