Longworld

I live in a world where the buildings are long instead of tall. I hate this faggot world. My first memory was wondering what my hometown’s skyline looks like when viewed from on high. This I will never know, because I live in a world where the buildings are long instead of tall.

I went to the office this morning. “Floor two, please,” I said to the elevator boy. I’m going to the penthouse suite. I entered my boss’s office. Like the entire world, my boss is long instead of tall. He is too wide to walk through doors straight-on; he is too short to ride roller coasters.

“Mr. Bemet Girsch,” he shouted, “It has come to my attention that you have been advocating dangerous new architectural ideas.”

“Yes. I will build buildings that are tall instead of long.”

“How dare you. Why?” asked the Boss.

“Because I am not a coward.”

The Boss ran at me with a knife. I jinked his charge and tossed him out the nearest window. He landed safely in a bush eight feet below on the ground.

I walked to my desk, which took forty minutes. I had the floor plan of a new building laid out before me, spread across three extra-wide desks arranged side-by-side. The Boss wanted this one to be the firm’s Longest project yet. I spat on it.

I called for my secretary. “Vishal, get in here!” I shouted. He emerged from his hovel, shuddering with fear.

“Y-yes Master Girsch, Sir?” Vishal asked.

“I want you to rearrange my desks. They are too long. Make them tall.”

“Yes, Sir!”

With great satisfaction, I watched my gremlinish secretary rotate the desks into a vertical orientation. In rotating, the floor plan atop the assemblage also went from long to tall.

“It’s beautiful, Master,” said my craven secretary.

I slapped him. “Only speak when spoken to. But yes you are correct. This new floor plan is beautifully Tall. Post it in the mail immediately.”

“But, Sir, we don’t have any envelopes Tall enough for these brilliant floor plans,” Vishal said, presenting to me a triple-long envelope he had on hand.

“I think you’ll find we do, idiot,” I said before seizing the envelope and rotating it 90 degrees.

For lunch I went on a walk to the zoo. The Government mandated that every citizen is entitled to a 210 minute lunch. Normally, I spend my lunches working illegally, but that day I felt fed up with being surrounded by cattle. I hoped to encounter at least one ensouled being on my walk.

It was raining. The goycattle held their umbrellas sideways. I stopped one of these creatures and inquired, “You. Why don’t you point your umbrella upwards?”

“Why would I do that?” bleated the goycow.

“To keep dry,” I said.

“Do you see anyone else holding their umbrella upright?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“Then it’s probably not that important,” he said.

“Listen, just please rotate your wrist 90 degrees and see if you come off drier for it,” I said.

“Buddy, you seem like a troublemaker,” he said.

“Honestly, kill yourself immediately,” I said before walking off.

“Who does he think he is...” The sheeperson grumbled wetly.

The zoo did not improve my mood. I went to see the giraffes. The Government passed a new law making it illegal for animals to be tall. As such, the giraffes were laid down on their sides. This greatly pleased the zoo-goers, and made them feel superior.

I immediately resolved to kill myself. I jumped off a nearby bridge. Needless to say, I survived.

I was arrested. “It is a crime to kill yourself,” the cop told me.

“Fine. Take me to prison. What is the sentence?” I asked.

“We don’t know yet, but whatever it is it will be Long.”