Kyle returns to the magazine with a story he debuted at our morning shows in Illinois last month. Audio from Urbana appears at the end. If you’ve not read Kyle’s collection Hey You Assholes, you can address that situation.
THE OFFICE OF
FUTURE PLANS
by Kyle Seibel
The Office of Future Plans is on the second floor. To access the second floor, you need a badge. To get a badge, you need to see the Special Security Officer. Unfortunately, there is no Special Security Officer. Or rather, there is not one currently. Use the courtesy phone to call the yeoman on duty and have them send an escort. The escort will be a small Filipino boy. You will call him Ted. This is a false name.
The Head of The Office of Future Plans is Captain Markwardt. Report directly to his desk in the center of the room. You will know him, of course, by his captain’s uniform (embossed epaulettes and golden shoulder boards) but also by his extremely tan skin and extremely white teeth. Prepare yourself for the contrast. The first few times? It is alarming.
After introductions with the captain, report to the executive officer, Commander Skip. He’s the only one who has figured out how to levitate so far. The moron has barely touched the ground since cracking it. Before reporting to The Office of Future Plans, Commander Skip was a helicopter pilot. The thinking goes this made for relevant experience.
Your desk partner is Lieutenant Dragon. This is his real name, but no one believes him. His Future Plan, the one he’s working on, is for facial hair to be reintroduced to the fleet, for the men to be bearded again. He’s writing point paper after point paper and his point is this: Beards, baby. They’re back. He is sometimes referred to as Lieutenant Dragon Ass for his tendency to fall behind during mandated PT. The irony is not lost on him that he could not grow a beard at gunpoint. He is chubby and smooth, like a baby.
If you do not have a Future Plan in mind, one will be appointed to you. We have an approved list to choose from if you want something specific. Most of the good ones have been taken, but there are a few chewy ones left. Dogs That Never Die is popular, but remains elusive. By all means, go ahead and try. Everyone does their first few weeks.
Some Plans come with details and materials and documented previous attempts, while some have nothing but a name. One file just says The Disneyfication of Iraq. Another says Night Vision for Sound. In truth, it doesn’t matter much what you pick. With our schedule, you’ll barely have any time to work on it.
This is your day, this is how it goes. Mandated physical training, mandated departmental training, safety brief, intel brief, department head meeting, enlisted liaison meeting, daily mahjong game with Ted, computer time, chow.
It’s not all business. We get hazelnut creamer on Monday, as much as you want. Then on Thursdays, Lieutenant Marina squirts some cheese from a can on a bunch of these little pepperonis and then microwaves it for like, eight seconds. The pepperonis curl up around the cheese like a tiny meat taco. She walks around the office holding the platter and puts them on people’s tongues like a priest with communion wafers. Don’t listen to Lieutenant Dragon. They’re quite good.
Even though technically you outrank him, for administrative purposes, you report to the work center supervisor, Capulong. Capulong is a bastard. One cunt hair shorter and he’d be a dwarf. Capulong is not his real name, of course. His name is something ancient, unpronounceable. Capulong has rickets, Capulong has gout. Capulong has multiple sleep apneas. Do not let yourself be enchanted by this twisted creature. Do not be tempted to pity him. When you’re not looking, he will eat your balls.
Sometime in the late afternoon, Capulong plays a song. “It’s Later Than You Think,” by Kermit Ruffins. If you don’t know, it’s a real kick-back and good times tune. Big sassy brass section with a trombone solo. A quitting song, you might think. But no, Capulong, the bastard, is playing it ironically. You don’t want to be the first one to go, no one does. So when can you leave? Sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you just stay there.
Though you could just go. Sneak away and never come back. But you don’t. Because you can’t. Not really. And anyway, what would you be if you didn’t work here? Now that they’ve warped you for anything else?
Best to seek comfort in simple truths. Like, one day it will all be worth it. You don’t understand how this could be possible, and yet you believe. Yes, really you do. You curl your body around its warmth, shut your eyes, and try to get some rest.
THE OFFICE OF FUTURE PLANS: Live at Morning, Fuckers in Urbana for Pygmalion festival. You’ll need to envision dancing on stage at the end.
Kyle Seibel lives in Santa Barbara. His debut collection Hey You Assholes is out now from Clash Books.
