I wanted to kill him.

What part of "we can't do the run without a contract" didn't the guy understand? Evidently all of it, because he was out there in the plant messing around anyway.

I make it a point not to swear, but several very choice phrases that my subconscious mind must have picked up over the years found their way to my lips. I spat them out, wondering only briefly how such dirty words felt so good coming from my mouth.

I had done what I could to minimize the effects of bozo's actions. Several megs of e-mail and a ream of paper's worth of CYA had miraculously departed my desk in the past ten minutes, so I was relatively certain that when the sparks started flying I'd be sufficiently fireproof. But that didn't keep me from feeling like I'd been hit by a Mack truck.

I raised my hands over my head and stretched in an attempt to loosen my cramped shoulders. I shouldn't have bothered. Stress had the very uncomfortable habit of causing the muscles in my neck and back to knot up in ways that Boy Scouts would be proud of and experience had proven that nothing short of five o'clock would help.

I glanced at my watch. The number three reached out and hugged the little hand, while the number twelve danced merrily with the larger one in obvious mockery of my situation.

"Will this day never end?"

My mournful cry went unanswered. That was probably for the best. I had enough problems to deal with without my co-workers thinking I was crazy.

But you are crazy.

My hand froze on the way to my water bottle. I looked around, but I was alone. The stress had me hearing things that weren't there. I shook my head and grabbed the bottle. I twisted the cap off more forcefully than was necessary and chugged half the contents.

But I AM here.

Water came spraying out of my mouth. It plastered the front of my computer screen and trickled down between the keys on my keyboard. I leapt from my chair and grabbed a stack of Kleenex from the box on my desk. I attempted to wipe the water from the computer. It wasn't until I noticed the streaks on the monitor that I realized the tissues were the kind with lotion.

"Aw, hell!"

I hear you. What do you want?

I spun around quickly, but the practical joker was nowhere to be found. A quick glance over the walls of my cubicle revealed that all of my nearby coworkers had escaped to the break room. I thought to check my phone, but it still sat soundly in its cradle.

I'm a bit offended, friend. You ask for me, then you act surprised that I answer.

The sound seemed to come from within my mind. No, that couldn't be right. The stress had gotten to me more than I thought it had. I backed from my cubicle and half ran to the restroom. My face was flush. I turned the faucet on full blast and splashed the cold water over my cheeks. It seemed to help.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were wide and bloodshot. I looked like the quintessential drunk. I laughed a bit at the thought. I had never in my life touched a drop of alcohol.

Maybe you should start drinking. It's been known to help in situations like these.

I saw the barest hint of movement from the corner of my eye, but when I looked that direction, I saw nothing.

My heart began to race in my chest. What was going on? My body tensed and I fled the restroom.

Running won't help, friend. Once you've invoked Hell, there's no going back.

No! I was a good person! I'd always followed the rules. I obeyed the commandments. I told the truth. I went to church. This wasn't happening to me. This COULDN'T be happening to me.

But it is happening to you, friend. Your little four-letter word prayer opened the door. Now that I'm in, you'll never get me out.

Panic set in. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Fear motivated my every action. I could only think to flee.

I rounded the corner and entered the atrium area at a full run. The large picture window, newly commissioned beckoned. There was only one way to get rid of the devil within me. Only one way.

There was a loud CRASH as glass shattered and I was falling....falling...falling...

The Demon named Vulgarity turned to his companions as they looked down from the new exit to the building's twentieth floor.

"I think you pushed him a bit hard."

"How so?" asked Stress. "I haven't been any harder on him than any of the other swine who work here. All I do is set the stage. After that it's up to you guys. Fear's the one who pushed too hard."

"Like Heaven I did! You saw where he was headed, straight to the nearest church. Within ten minutes he would have been confessing his sweet little heart out. We would have had to start all over."

"But you killed him! Where's the benefit in that?"

Fear grinned. "He committed suicide, didn't he?"

The other two Demons smiled in sudden understanding.

"Come along," Fear said as he faded into the Ether. "Let's go welcome our newest house guest."