Author's Note: So it begins. I hope you like this first installment; be sure to give me some feedback. It'll help me stay sane!
. . .
The composition of the orc-infiltration-and-induce-insanity team was simple. Three dispensable orcs had been selected for the mission and given the proper tools and code names to complete it. This small company, containing Snaga 1, Snaga 2, and Snaga 3, was ready to make Thalion Estel's life miserable.
"Come on, filthy scum!" Snaga 2 called to the other orcs as they jogged down an apartment sidewalk. "That worthless writer will be back here in ten minutes; the trap must be set before she returns."
"Curse the writer and curse this weather!" Snaga 1 snarled as he hurried to catch up. "I hate this place."
"Better than Mordor," Snaga 3 said from behind as the three orcs approached the proper building.
"Thanks for the optimism," Snaga 2 growled sarcastically. "Now enough with the chatting; we've got to get into the building and do our job."
"And just how are we going to do that?" Snaga 1 retorted. "Do you just happen to have a key in your pocket?"
Snaga 2 had apparently not considered this problem, but he just snarled and ran ahead of his companions up the stairs and to the appropriate door. His misshapen, disgusting hand griped the door handle and tried it, being surprisingly rewarded as the door swung open. And that, dear readers, is why you always lock your apartment. Always.
The orcs shuffled into the small apartment and immediately went to work. Snaga 1 made a copy of a key so that they could come back whenever they needed to. Snaga 3 examined the kitchen carefully, looking for weakness that the team of orcs could exploit. It was a pretty tiny area for six roommate to share, with only a narrow pantry, a few feet of counter space, and small refrigerator. The orc grinned as his mind worked out several evil things he could do with this setting. Meanwhile, Snaga 2 went through each of the bedrooms, searching for the one in which the writer lived. It didn't take much for him to figure out that Estel was settled in the room that had a wall covered in Texas Rangers merchandise, not to mention all the shirts in the closet and knick-knacks on the desk with the same team's logo. He took note of any detail he thought important before heading back into the living space to consult with the other orcs.
"What are we going to do here?" Snaga 1 asked, pointing an accusing finger at Snaga 2. "What happened to hurrying?"
"We have many possibilities," Snaga 2 replied, "but no time to rig up something complicated. For now, we will start with something simple and work up from there as time goes by."
"Get on with it!" Snaga 3 demanded.
"Bring out the Peanut Butter Jar of Doom!" Snaga 2 ordered with a hint of dramatic flair, gesturing to Snaga 1's small pack.
"But you said we should begin with something small," Snaga 1 protested as he slung the bag off his shoulder and shoved it roughly at Snaga 2. "This could drive her to insanity in one fell blow!"
Snaga 2 shrugged, ripping the pack away from Snaga 1 and pulling out a normal-looking jar of peanut butter from the sack's frayed burlap top. "Then we won't have to stay in this blasted place any longer. Besides, this is not a guaranteed hit; that's why we'll use it first. Later, we'll bring more personally aimed attacks against her."
Snaga 2 took the Peanut Butter Jar of Doom and made room for it to perch on the middle shelf of the pantry. His face twisted into a cruel expression of glee just as the sound of a car pulling into the parking lot outside came to his orc ears.
"That's one of them!" he exclaimed, rushing out of the kitchen and towards the door. "Out, you filthy maggots!"
The three orcs rushed out the door, slamming it shut behind them and running down the hallway just before a girl mounted the staircase to enter her apartment, wondering why there were stomping feet so close and why the doorknob seemed to be covered in grime. But being unsuspicious, she simply shrugged off these things and went into her apartment, closing the door behind her.
This girl, the very writer who was under the sanity-attack, did not discover the fruit of the orc's plot right away. And indeed, it failed to deal her the deadly blow that was intended. Unfortunately, it did issue its destruction eventually . . . on the wrong person.
Estel knew something was wrong several days later when she heard someone cry out from the kitchen. Slamming her book closed and rising from her most-used reading place—her bed—she opened her door and quickly rushed down the small hallway and into the open. Standing beside the pantry was one of her roommates, an expression of pain written on her face.
"What happened; are you alright?" Thalion inquired with concern.
Estel's companion gasped and grabbed at her foot, but she seemed otherwise unharmed. "I'll be okay. That peanut butter jar fell on my toe!"
Estel rounded the counter and examined the wound, which actually did appear fairly severe. However, the girl could still walk on the foot, so at least nothing was broken.
"So sorry about that," Thalion said, setting the jar of peanut butter back onto the shelf. "I guess the tub must have slipped off or something."
The roommate nodded and limped back into the room she and Estel shared, though it did not seem that the pain inflicted by the jar had faded in the slightest. Thalion's silly little brain was simply too distracted to suspect foul play in the incident, but even her dull mind soon realized that something strange was going on with the peanut butter.
Although there were no more injuries, the number of times the peanut butter jar fell near someone's feet grew as quickly as the bruise on the foot of Estel's roommate. After it had happened six or seven times, Thalion finally wised up and buried the jar deep inside the pantry behind the other random food items.
Her sanity was still intact, but the Peanut Butter Jar of Doom had done part of its work, and now her mind's defenses against insanity were greatly weakened. The orcs were gaining ground on their objective.
. . .
I hope you liked the first chapter! This may have been only a small attack, but I can promise you that things are about to escalate a lot—to my worst nightmare. Stay tuned, and please review! Have any of you ever had to deal with something like the Peanut Butter Jar of Doom before?