I carefully inscribed the last ward around the circle. In triplicate. I made one final check to make sure every line was absolutely correct and perfect, then began the summoning. I didn’t bother with chanting. It didn’t seem appropriate in this particular case. Instead, I started throwing incorrectly filled out forms and red pens into the circle. Big rubber ‘denied’ stamps and a couple of half-dead flickering flourescent bulbs followed. I even managed to find a few scraps of hideous tile and carpet to join the pile that was my offering. My bait.
The lights in the warehouse flickered. Not a proper spooky flicker. That same annoying flicker of the flourescent bulbs laying the pile. The place didn’t even have flourescent bulbs. I stealed myself against the gathering mass in the center of the circle. From somewhere, the drone of instrumental muzac started filling the empty space.
I pulled my eyes away from the circle just for a moment. Just long enough to check on possible sources for the muzac. To make sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. When I looked back, it was waiting. I cylopean horror dripping red ink from its mouth, full of pens for teath. It wore one of the most aweful boring suits ever and even had a set of thick coke-bottle glasses perched over one set of eyes.
“Please wait in the designated area until your number is called,” droned the horrible beast as it settled contentedly into the circle.
The room filled with a stale scent of cheap cleaners. I edged closer, eyeing up the horror I had called down. It seemed quite content to ignore me. Producing a nail file from somewhere and starting to work on manacuring its claws.
“Um. You realize I’ve summoned you into a circle and have you trapped, right?” I said.
My voice echoed softly and the creatue slowly looked up. “Your number has not been called yet, sir. I’m afraid you will just have to wait your turn.”
“But. But you aren’t even calling numbers. There’s not even anyone else HERE,” I said, getting more frustrated.
“I’m sorry sir, we have rules for a reason. Please go back to the waiting area and wait for your number to be called,” droned the creature.
I stomped a foot, raising my voice. “I have summoned and bound you. You will listen to me or I will leave you to rot in that circle.”
“I’m sorry sir, it doesn’t matter who you’re related to. Everyone is subject to the rules here. If you’ll just return to the waiting area, we’ll get to you just as soon as we have an available agent,” it said, sounding bored.
I bit back a curse and stalked away from the circle, taking several deep breaths.
“Number 666. Number 666, please report to the counter.”
The smell of sulfer filled the room and I turned. Standing in front of the circle was The Beast. In capital letters. My jaw dropped a little and I stood there, stairing.
“Um, yeah. I filled out this form about begining the apocolypse and just need to get it approved so I can get started,” said The Beast.
The creature took the form, which looked more like some sort of tome, looked it over briefly, then stamped it with a red denied stamp and offered it back to The Beast. ” I’m sorry. You forgot to initial line 3,376 twice. And there is a smudge on page 37. We can’t possibly accept this. Number 667. Number 667, please report to the counter.”
The Beasts jaw dropped, then it snuffled a bit, hugged the book and slunk back into the shadows, muttering. “I’ve filled this damn thing out 300 times now. It’s just not fair,” he said and vanished.
“Um. Where do I get a number?” I asked, keeping my voice more even.
“Numbers are handed out at the information kiosk. Now if you’ll please return to the waiting area, we’ll get to you just as soon as we can,” said the creature.
I shook my head slowly and tossed the ritual blade off to the side and left. If it was going to take that much effort just to get my turn with the physical manifestation of bureaucracy, then I’d just have to find some other way to seek my revenge.
