I am an invisible man. Damn, I'm so excited!
Yesterday, I got my cloak of invisibility in the mail from an eBay bid. It's an amazing piece of technology and not a bad fit either. At this very moment, unbeknownst to Evil Editor, CEO of Evil Publishers, I'm hidden in his fancy, schmancy Park Avenue office.
"J.B, stop sending me this garbage! I've got mountains of it already."
He's not nearly as good-looking as I expected him to be. Someone should tell him to get that big wart removed.
"I told you, I want saints gone bad. That's the next trend."
I may be invisible, but I'm not noiseless. I have to be very quiet as I walk around his office. While he's not looking, I'll spread around copies of my novel Polygeddon: The Day the Earthquake, Tornado, and Tsunami Struck. After I leave, everywhere he'll turn in his office, he'll see my masterpiece—or disasterpiece, as I like to call it. St. Kendra can go to hell.
"I don't care what your Aunt Joycie likes, I said saints!"
He sure has a lot of bowling trophies. Then again, it makes sense with the wart.
"Who, the blonde? She needs a boob job. That's non-negotiable."
I'm sure I can find fifteen spots to leave my novel.
"Boob job. Boob, like you!"
Damn, what just whacked my arm?
Who said that? What just brushed my other arm?
Another voice. What is this?
"Get to the end of the line, jerk."
Another voice! And what pushed me? What's going on here?
"Wait a minute, JB…Hey, will you invisible assholes keep it down? I'm trying to work…Go on, JB. You know, I can't take a leak without this invisible human slush pile on my ass."
eBay sucks sometimes.
—Vivian Davenport (First sentence: Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man)