"Patent Pending" part 1

John was retarded. Today was no exception either, as a massive pile of papers teetered ominously in his inbox. With a sigh, he gloomily lifted a few pages from the heap and let them fall back again with a “flop”.

“Yeah, I know I am, so you don’t need to say so,” John muttered.

“Uh, and what’s that, exactly?” John’s supervisor inquired as he came around to John’s desk.

“Late with last month’s applications. I’m really sorry, about that, Dave. I have been working on them, but… it’s just… there’s a lot of research involved in some of these new ones. I mean, look at this one here – a TV remote keychain that turns on your TV while you’re at work. I’m sure you must understand that that one would take at least 4 to 5 hours of research alone, right?” John shot off the rehearsed speech faster than he had intended and wondered how it was received.

“Well, that’s not what I was going to say, but yeah, now that you mention it, you do seem to be a little bit behind. What I really wanted to say though is that you really look like you could use a beer. You seem a little, well, kinda depressed, that’s all.”

“Depressed? Ha. Nah…” John feigned a long thin grin with brows furrowed. His eyes wandered to the stack then back again. “What reason do I have to be depressed?” The fact of the matter was that John had plenty to be depressed about. He had approximately five hundred and seventy-four reasons to be depressed at the moment.

Dave ignored John’s question. “When was the last time we went out for a beer, man? I bet you can’t even remember. Can you? Can you! Ha – see? You need a break!” John couldn’t remember, as his slow reaction time pointed out. “How about we go to The Yard and Flagon tonight for a few pints, eh? Eight p.m. sound good?”

John sighed. “I dunno… as you can see, I’m pretty much swamped until kingdom come…”

“Forget about that! Look, I’m telling you, as your supervisor, that you need to have a beer. With me. Tonight.” Dave dispensed in his mock “I’m-the-boss” tone that he had used since he had been promoted and his old roommate had been left behind as a lowly patent application officer.

“Dave, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Alright, Jay, but I tell ya, tonight’s gonna be great! But you know, keep up the good work!” Dave mocked in a strict tone, saluting him stiffly before walking off.

John slouched in his chair, letting his mind do the same as his eyes glazed over. ‘Keep up the good work!’ echoed in his mind and he reached for the next filled-out patent application. He scanned the first page before his eyes grew wide with disbelief and disgust. In a frenzy, he opened his desk-side drawer, rifled through a pile of papers to extract a worn green notebook. Opening it quickly and flipping a few pages, his index finger came to rest at a point on a certain page.

“FUCK!!! Jesus Christ, Almighty!” John let out, loud enough to make more than one of his coworkers stand up from their cubicles with curiosity. He turned his eyes skyward “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

Sensing their eyes, he buried his face in his hands, grappling with what his mind wouldn’t let him accept. Standing up decisively, he circled his desk and called out down the aisle “Dave! Hey wait! Eight p.m., you said?”

“Good to hear it, man. See you then!”

***********************************************************************************

Come back next Sunday for part 2 of "Patent Pending".

"Patent Pending" part 2

John sat at a booth in the neighbourhood bar, waiting for his friend to arrive. He peered at his beer and the green notebook that rested beside it on the cigarette-burned table. Dave was late. A pretty blonde waitress in a much-too-tight tank-top hoisted a clumsy-looking pitcher of beer and carried it to a nearby table. The pitcher had an outer layer filled with ice to keep the beer inside cool. John grimaced. He reached for his beer and took a long pull.

There was a jingle at the door and Dave’s bulky figure wandered in. Spotting John, he smiled and walked over to the table, taking a seat and flagging down the waitress.

“Hey buddy! How are ya? Sorry to keep you waiting. I had to do a few extra reps at the gym tonight. Have you been waiting long?”

“No. It’s ok.”

“Well, good. Can I buy you a second round? You’re looking a little low,” he said, motioning to his glass before ordering a pitcher of beer.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Thanks.”

The two of them made small talk for a while, letting the engine of conversation idle for a while before hitting the open road.

“So, what’s the notebook for? You’re not working, are you?” Dave eyed the notebook intently.

“Working? Oh… no, it’s just a few ideas and stuff. Notes to myself. You know. It’s nothing, really,” John reflexively reached for the book and slid it into his bag, having forgotten it was there.

“Alright, Mr. Top Secret. So, what’s been bothering you, lately?” Dave asked straight-out. The waitress returned with an ice-pitcher and set it down in front of him. Dave dismissed a thanks and returned his gaze to his friend. John eyed the pitcher sourly.

“Dave, do you ever get the feeling that someone is watching you?”

“What? No, not really. Why? Do you think someone is watching you?”

“Well, no… maybe… I don’t think so at least.”

Dave cocked his head back and sized up John for a moment, checking his friend for any visible signs of “crazy” before filling his glass with beer. John pushed on.

“It just feels as if someone, or something is watching me.”

“So, what makes you think so?”

“For certain reasons that I can’t really mention…” John’s voice trailed off. “I think maybe someone has been through my personal things.”

“Ha ha. Sounds kinky! Man, I wish someone would go through MY personal ‘things’ if you know what I mean.” Dave raised an eyebrow. John offered up a chuckle.

“Yeah, I know - crazy, right?”

“Like I said, man. You’ve been working too hard. I’m sure the feeling will pass. Anyway, have you noticed Brandi the past few days? Man, I’m glad summer is here. She’s lookin’ fiiine!” Dave slathered and grinned. John replied that he hadn’t, but that he would keep an eye out. Dave droned on about things at work, sports and the like, but John’s heart was elsewhere, feeling as if his burden hadn’t lifted one bit.

Three ice-pitchers, four bathroom breaks and the waitress’ phone number later, the two friends hazily exited the pub, Dave’s arm cheerfully around John’s shoulder.

“It was really good to connect, Jay. You really gotta lighten up a bit and let loose every once in a while! What say you to doing this again on Friday? I know a great new place that opened up on the east side.”

“Mmm. Yeah, sounds great!” John drowsily responded. “Oh, shit!” John reached to his side and realized his bag wasn’t by his side. He spun around and headed back inside, his blurry vision seeking out his bag at their table. Seeing it resting on the leather seat, he quickly went over to it and checked its contents. The green notebook rested safely inside, perhaps only slightly askew. He scanned the pub, scrutinizing the patrons. Lifting the bag over his shoulder, he teetered between the toes and balls of his feet for a second before leaving in a tipsy state of suspicion.

"Patent Pending" part 3

Over the next few weeks, John took his friend’s advice and decided to take a vacation. It had been a long time since he had done so, and he figured that he could get some ideas down on paper this way. Watching movies and reading books, he jotted down his ideas in point form in his notebook when inspiration struck. A new kind of wine opener, a great idea for a murder-mystery, even a few scratches and scribbles for a dance song he couldn’t get out of his head. Feeling refreshed and once again like he was in control of his own destiny, he returned to work on a sunny Monday.

No sooner than having walked through the sliding glass doors, however, he heard a strangely familiar melody floating on the air. The driving bass drum of the song seemed to be in harmony with the accelerating beating of his heart. His eyes widened as the sliding doors hummed closed behind him. A man in a white shirt and red plaid tie walked by and smiled at John.

“Great song, huh?” the man quipped. John smiled weakly as he eyed the round muzak panels on the pockmarked white ceiling tiles from where the song was coming.

John tried to ignore the melody and fumed off towards the elevator. He pressed the UP button and waited in front of the bronze doors for the red number above the elevator to tick down to one.

“Hi John!”

John looked to his left to see Cathy, a fellow patent clerk. Cathy had been a friend of his for several years, since he started working for the patent office.

“Hello, Cathy,” he replied.

“Did you have a nice vacation? Go anywhere fantastic?”

“No, just spent some time at home. Working on a few projects… you know.”

“Oh really? If I had had that much holiday time saved up, I would have gone on a cruise in the Bahamas, or something like that. Life’s short, you know. You don’t want to go wasting it on work.”

John laughed and did his best to shrug it off.

“Well, you know me. Always hard at work!” The elevator doors opened and the two of them stepped inside.

“Say, are you doing anything this Sunday? Mark and I are having a dinner party. We’d love to see you there.”

“Uh… yeah, I suppose… that would be nice,” John replied.

“Great! Dinner’s at seven, so come on by at about 6.”

“Uh, great, no problem. Thanks, Cathy!” The elevator doors opened and John waited for Cathy to exit before following her to the junction where their paths would diverge. The thought of spending an evening among regular people softened the blow he had felt only a moment earlier. “Oh, should I bring anything?”

“Hm… no, I don’t think so. We have it covered. Oh, wait. If you’d like, you could bring a bottle of wine! Mark found this cool new gadget that he’s been dying to try out. It’s a wine opener that sucks the cork out.” Cathy was already halfway down her side of the aisle towards her cubicle.

“Wait, what did you say?” John said in an edgy tone.

“Wine! Red or white is fine….”

“No, after that.”

“Um, Mark found a new toy? Not THAT kind of toy, if that's what you were think...”

“A wine opener?” John interrupted. Cathy nodded. “That uses a pump to get the cork out?” Cathy cocked her head and smiled.

“Yeah,” she said with amusement. “John, you work in a patent office. You look as though you’ve never heard of a new invention before.” She giggled and continued towards her cubicle.

John was left standing there, leather bag in hand, looking as though he had already worked a ten-hour workday. Utter defeat and shock was haphazardly painted across his face.


For the rest of the day, John couldn’t focus. The piles of paper on his desk that demanded attention were like moths fluttering around an intense burning light that was glowing inside his head. He tried to bat them away, but they kept circling. His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing as he chewed on the end of his Uniball™ gel ink pen. He jumped when a familiar voice interrupted his defence mechanisms.

“J, buddy! How was the vacation? Meet any hot muchachas?”

“Oh, hey Dave. I didn’t see you there. No, no ladies. Just stayed at home.”

“Well, you sure are jumpy for a man who just got back from vacation!” Dave chimed. “It must have been quite a downer. I know how vacations can be so depressing…” he scooped on the sarcasm.

John stood up. “Yeah, well, I guess I must have caught something yesterday. I’m not feeling too well,” and he walked past Dave towards the men’s room.

The door closed behind him and he went to the sink. Turning on the cold water, he filled his cupped hands and splashed water on his face. Looking in the mirror, he asked aloud “What the hell is going on?” The cold water felt good, but unreal at the same time. Think. There’s no way, he thought. I didn’t tell anybody! Not even Dave. The only way they could have known is the notebook. Wait, the notebook. Where is it?
John rushed out of the restroom and back to his cubicle, bumping into a woman on the way, spilling papers on the floor. Back to his desk. He found his leather bag and tore through it, searching for the notebook.

“What are you looking for, buddy?” came Dave’s voice. There was a quizzical smile on his face.

“Where is it, Dave?” he shot back, eyes glaring.

“Where is what?”

John nearly blurted out the answer, before quelling the impulse. The fewer people who knew about it, the better. John ignored the question and went back to searching, pulling papers out of his bag and then moving his search to his the drawers of his desk.

“Look, John, whatever it is, is it really that important? Whatever it is, I’m sure that it’ll turn up. Maybe you just forgot it at home.”

Home. If his notebook was at home, he needed to get it.

John looked up at Dave. “I need to take the rest of the day off.”

Before Dave had a chance to answer, John had already scooped up his leather courier bag and was storming out of the office on his way home.

Check-In

Hi Everyone! Please remember to leave a comment! Comments are my lifeblood!

Do you like the story so far? Is it exciting? Boring?

Where would you like to see the story go next? I am in a continuous state of writing, so tell me what you think might happen next, and I might take that into consideration.

What do you think is going on in John's life? Is John's best friend Dave sabotaging him? What exactly is contained in the green notebook? Why is it so important to John?

Hope to hear from you soon!

"Patent Pending", Part 4

John was speeding down the freeway on his way home. His heart was beating and a bead of sweat was snaking its way down his temple.

Five years ago, he never would have imagined that he would be in this situation. Having graduated from a small but respectable college with a degree in Business Management, he had left the institution with a mixed sense of apprehension and excitement. He was ready to get out into the workforce and become the next Bill Gates. After a month of holding out for that one great job, he slowly began to lower his expectations, mostly out of necessity because his money was growing very thin and he had a mountain of debt from his student loans. He took up a job at a small business as a salesman selling bathtubs, toilet seats, and various other home furnishings. He hated it, but he told himself that it was just temporary. It was just until he had enough start-up capital to form his own business. After a while, he started to learn that any business owner was never going to succeed unless they branched out and took the field in a whole new direction. The greatest success stories were always of those who took an existing product and added a small but useful gizmo. Invention wasn’t a matter of breathing life into dust or telling the waters to become still. Instead, it was much more like duct-taping two cans of beer with straws to the side of your ballcap.

After six months of selling porcelain thrones to young newlyweds, he knew that he needed to get out. A fellow Business Graduate, David Scharfe had been his best friend in college. The two of them had spend many nights in the basement of the Economics building playing Frisbee in the halls and having roller chair derby while procrastinating for their upcoming finals. He and David were always competing to get better grades. David would always beat John by a fraction of a percentage which would frustrate John to no end. After college, while John was busy selling shitters, David had taken up a job with the United States Patent and Trademark Office. After his stint with home furnishings, the two of them had met over drinks and seeing that his friend was in a rut, Dave offered to put in a good word with his manager. John was hired in 2 weeks.

When John started at his new job, he was giddy at the chance to be working in what he considered the hub of creativity in America. Dave and John worked in the same building, only two cubicles away from each other. They would get lunch together at a small taco stand called “Dos Tacos”. Everything was great at first. John was filled with ambition once again, and had great plans of moving up in the company and gaining the experience that he would need to start his own business, selling some incredible new knickknack that would take the world by storm. A year came and went, and John and Dave were both up for review for a position as acting department manager. The previous manager had slipped on a bar of soap in the shower and fractured his third vertebrae on the side of the tub, dying almost instantly. John had pondered at the time that perhaps it was his retirement from selling bathroom fixtures that had led to this fortunate-unfortunate opportunity. Perhaps if he had sold his late manager a Royal shower unit, model BRS-602, he would have been content in the knowledge that he had saved a man’s life.

The day of their review came, and both workers proved to be exceptional, becoming the sole two officers to make it to the final round of selection. In the end, however, Dave ended up taking the position because he had been with the company 6 months longer than John.

John was once again reminded of how it seemed to be his fate to always be one inch behind someone else in the 100-mile race of life. John fell into a depression, and lost interest in his work. The hundreds of applications that came through the office were only daily reminders mocking him of how someone else was making it big with their ideas, and forging ahead in the competition for resources. In the grand scheme of things, John was not the intellectual alpha male. Rather, he was the silverback who challenged the alpha male and lost when the match had come down to a split decision in overtime, now being forced to live at the edge of the group.

One day, while having coffee in his favourite coffee shop, “Arabica”, he overheard a couple at another table talking about creativity. Since his job revolved about creative individuals, he was intrigued by the young woman who was speaking at length to her boyfriend about how he should foster his creativity more. Eavesdropping on them, he was struck with the plain simplicity of it all: her key to success was simply to carry around a notebook with her wherever she went and take notes whenever an interesting idea came to her. John finished his coffee and excitedly left to find a bookstore. Once there, he found what he was looking for: a lovingly bound evergreen leather book, unlined, its snow white pages pristine and inviting. Holding it in his hands, he closed his eyes and could picture the pages dissolving from white into brilliantly scribbled ideas in black ink. Twenty years from now, he would be able to look back at this moment, retelling his story to the reporter of BusinessWeek, about how his life had changed that day. He held his future in his hands.

And so, he wrote in his journal. It became his bible and his confessional. It was his ancient alchemical tome that held the secrets to his own brain and the universe. It was his most abiding dream, bound up in 300 pages of perfection. And now, he had no idea where it was.

John’s attention was sharply yanked back to reality with the high-pitched whine of a cop car behind him. His eyes glanced at his speedometer, and he realized that he was going 100 in a 60 zone. Shit, he thought. Once again, life was telling him that he would not be on time for his expectations. He slowed down and pulled his car over to the side of the road.

Post Delay!

Hi Everyone,

Having been away for the weekend, this week's post will be slightly delayed - I hope to have it up no later than Tuesday. In the meantime, I'm a little concerned. Someone I was talking to about the blog said that comments aren't working. I tried myself, and it seemed to work before I deleted the comment... is anyone else having any problems with comments? If so, please send me an e-mail at mindputty@hotmail.com .

Thanks!