The thing with the signs was the fault of one man, Jeffrey Dollmer, who ran a small department of local government. He was content to blame the delay in having readable street signs on his deputy, Carrie Sure, who was so by-the-book that any blame she received was forgotten quickly. She was an asset to the policy-makers because of her rigorous dedication to enforcing those policies. 

Jeffrey shut his office door once his boss had left and returned to grooming his moustache in the small mirror on his desk. He took great care not to trim it too short, because Mugabe had made the Hitler stache unfashionable once again. Of course, it was hard to focus when he was constantly fighting the urge to dance to the beat of Starship’s “We Built This City” which was playing in his head. Wait, no, it wasn’t just in his head. Oh goddamn it. Jeffrey’s door exploded into his office in wooden shards followed by the entrance of one of his underlings, Jim Stansel. “HEYOOOOOOOO! What’s the haps, Jeffy Jeff?” he bellowed from the splintered door frame, the boom box looking comically large against the five-foot-tall manchild.

“James, please return to your desk. I’m extremely busy,” Jeffrey said slowly and calmly, his Southern drawl laid thick over his words. In contrast to the hectic event that’d just occurred, it made him seem like a man in control. The unflappable Jeffrey Dollmer.

“Nay can dizzle, my bizzy-boss. Happy hour starts at nine. In the mornang!”

“It is now ten thirty seven, your imaginary happy hour has already concluded.”

“Nope! Goes forever!” Jim shouted, tossing a beer to/at Jeffrey. He caught it in his immaculate teeth and crushed the can, beer spilling into his mouth but also a little bit spilled onto his clothes. Jeffrey was upset, but didn’t blame Jim. He was recently divorced from his fake wife that he really loved. Kinda makes Jim bummed to think about so don’t bring it up. Oh look, there’s November!

November was the office intern but she turned tricks for money as a magician’s assistant on nights and weekends. She respected her boss, Carrie, a moderate amount, roughly the same amount one respects a neighbour that occasionally comes over for a chat with your Mum. More than one that doesn’t come over for a chat, but slightly less than an aunt or other extended family. She respected Carrie quietly, though, because admitting she didn’t mind the office would pierce her armor of indifference. Sincerity was tantamount to vulnerability, which wasn’t something November was a Fan of on ThoughtBook. This is why when November looked out the window and noticed the typically obnoxious view of the city had been replaced by a grey-brown wasteland of smoldering buildings, her lip barely curled. She began refilling the printer’s ink cartridges. And THEN her phone started vibrating. It was Jesse. “November, hi.”

“What do you want, Jesse?” 

“Just to talk. Look, I don’t know if you noticed, but the city has been vaporised by an intergalactic worlard.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I need your help!”

November rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, you always do this. I’m hanging up, Jesse.”

“I’m coming to get you. Look out for the flying train.”

“Ugh, FINE.” November hit the red phone icon which disconnected the call. People never say “bye” when they’re fictional characters. The front carriage of the flying train smashed through the wall, just missing Jim’s desk but nudging it enough to make his seventh grade soccer trophy topple off and break. “You’re paying for that, November!”

“Whatever,” she said as she got into the driver’s compartment. “This is a pretty sweet ride.”

“Thanks. I got it off eBay.” Jesse quipped.

“Really?”

“No.” They took off into the sky.

“Jesse,” November said, looking up at him from the frankly uncomfortable plastic chair. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere you like,” he replied, looking back at her. She always wore her brown hair unbrushed and messy. He’d only just noticed. “Actually I have an assignment to submit so we’re going to university.”

“And then?”

“And then we sort this mess out, because it looks like we’re the only ones who can. Don’t worry, November. I have a plan.” Those four words filled November with dread that she could only fully articulate with a blog post.