F is for Fears

It took both Russell and Timmy some time to fully process what had just made way into the office. A bloody mess, that's what, but wearing a broad grin, as if he ought to be proud of himself.

Adam stood there, arms stretched, waiting for a response that clearly wasn't coming. "Well...huh? Pretty creepy, right?"

Russell looked away, interest waning. "What, you get hit by a cab on the way over here, or something?"

"I'm a zombie! C'mon, I worked all night on this costume, why am I the only one in the office around here with any Halloween spirit?"

Timmy simply let loose a slow, uncomfortable whistle, hands behind his back, eyes diverting from the mess that was Adam.

"Yeah, well." Adam sighed defeatedly. "Only person I've scared so far was that new woman in accounting, but I think I have that whole stranger factor working in my favor, y'know? Everybody else goes 'hey, Adam,' and keeps on walking. I don't look like this everyday, do I?" No response. "What am I doing wrong?"

Excitedly, Adam approached Timmy, whose eyes widened at the undead assault. "Maybe I need to take an impartial survey for next year. What scares you guys?"

"I find impartial surveys rather unnerving," muttered Timmy.

"Wanna know what scares Tim?" piped in Russell, interest resurfacing.

Timmy's eyes narrowed in irritation.

"Breaking curfew...threat of a good time...losing his virginity..."

"Sir-"

"Colonialism."

"And you, sir?" Ever an even keel to the voice; well rehearsed. Not worth the fuss.

"What about me?"

"Yeah," said Adam, "You must have a few deep-seated fears up in there, huh, Russell?"

"Pft, serious? What would I be scared of?"

"C'mon, everybody's afraid of something."

"Not me." Russell, tiring of this conversation, found himself walking lazily towards his office. "Nerves of steel," he proclaimed, disappearing and closing the door behind him.

Timmy made his opinion known in the form of suppressed laughter, fist to mouth.

Adam turned to him with a chuckle. "Who's he kidding?"

Timmy worked to gather himself before offering up an amused, "I once saw him cower from a group of ducks in Central Park."

"Ducks?"

"There was another instance with a squirrel...suffice it to say, animals hate the man, but no, in all honesty, I can give you a run down of Mr. Dunbar's fears. Shall we?"

"Shoot."

"Romantic commitment."

"Well, yeah, obviously."

"Paternity tests."

"Oh, man, seen that one first hand."

"Getting smaller."

The men shared a hearty bout of laughter before Adam recovered, waving Timmy down. "Yeah...at this point, it's probably easier to make a list of things Russell isn't scared of."

Perhaps the men would have amused themselves in compiling such a list if, in the next breath, Russell had not stormed out from his office, calling for Timmy's presence in such a manner as to suggest a state of emergency.

Timmy followed quickly, unsure of what he'd find on the other side of the door...nothing. He found nothing, and Russell led him to the far side of the office, near the window.

"Well, there it is, it's huge, I got within an inch of the thing and it tried to kill me!"

Timmy looked across the length of the wall, finding nothing of any interest. He looked out the window; nothing. "Sir...?"

"The spider! Eight hairy legs of unfathomable death, fangs full of toxic venom, eyeing my neck, this beautiful neck..." He pulled his collar away, exposing his neck, shoving it in Timmy's direction...as if it might be of interest.

"Ah." Timmy backed away from Russell, decidedly uninterested, moving further towards the wall. Eyes scanning. Scanning. And there is was.

Tiny. A tiny thing, this spider. Naturally.

"Well?" urged Russell with bated breath. He watched as Timmy began to crack a window, hand poised to the side of the beast. "Wh...what are you doing, aren't you gonna kill it?! Smash it or something, you need a book, here, I've got tons of books..." He made his way behind his desk, pulling a book from his shelf. "Here, use this one, Ethics in Business, when am I ever gonna use this thing?"

"No need, sir. Crisis averted."

Russell stood stunned for a moment or two. The men met eyes, sizing one another up, knowing full well what had just happened. And then, chuckling, Russell slid his book back in place.

"Oh, Timmy. So cowardly, can't even kill a minuscule little spider."

It had been the expected response, a prompt turnabout. Timmy shrugged it off, beginning an easy stride out of the office. "There was no sense in killing the spider, sir. I assure you, it was more afraid of you than you were of it."

"What, is this more of that Eastern philosophy, peace in the world, peace in my heart mumbo-jumbo? If it's my life or his, one of us is goin' down, buddy, and it ain't me!"

"Hm. Very well, sir...do let me know if your life is threatened again, I'll come and open another window."

As Timmy left the office, returning to his desk with a sigh, his zombie compatriot leaned in with a shake of his head.

"Dunno how you put up with Russell, sometimes."

"Well," Timmy replied lackadaisically, "perhaps he's the spider."

"What?"

Timmy looked to Adam, a slight, thoughtful smile forming against the corners of his lips. "Perhaps...when it comes right down to it...he's more afraid of me than I am of him."

From the next room came a monstrous, demanding cry: "TIIIIIMMYYY!"

Timmy sighed; he stood slowly. He straightened his tie, clenching his eyes closed in preparation. A deep breath. A nod, walking rapidly, making his way back towards the spider's web. "Then again..."