angry
—— 1976 winter ——
Nicodemo hated Mondays. He also had a particular loathing for Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and most Sundays, but Mondays were the absolute worst. He tugged at the neck of his robes absently as he added the date to the case report he was finishing. Skimmg it over, he found it free of obvious and immediate spelling and grammatical errors, and was fairly certain all the facts were correct. This was not to say he overly cared if they weren't. Trailing his hand to the signature line at the bottom, he began his name with a flourish just when the nib snapped.
Staring at it blankly for a moment, he threw the quill down in disgust and rested his forehead in his palm. Or smacked it with one. Third time it had happened this week, he reflected. Ought not to press so hard. He glanced wistfully at one of the few personal items that littered his desktop, a charming oriental statute of a monkey clashing cymbals in his hands. Larkin had given it to him quite tongue-in-cheekly, and today more than ever, he felt an unsettling kinship with the trinket.
"Erm… so, Nick!"
He stifled a groan. It was ten o'clock, it was far too early to deal with the likes of P. J. Blodkin, his immediate superior. Nicodemo regarded him with a stony glare, hoping to put the rather effeminate, plump wizard off his mission before he even began.
It was clearly failing to work, as the man smoothed his hands down the sides of his mandarin-coloured robe before clearing his throat and saying, "Erm… yeah, I'm going to need you to do that report on the Knight Bus incident over."
Nicodemo blinked. "Again?" he asked incredulously.
"Erm… yeah… again."
"But it's all correct," Nico said slowly, as if speaking to a dumb child. "I triple-checked it this time."
Blodkin scratched behind his ear and averted his gaze. "Erm, yeah… it's not really, because… well, they introduced a new form for filing 5A through F, so… you're going to need to do it again."
"I don't have time," said Nicodemo in a measured tone, gripping the edge of his desk so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. "I have five other case reports to file before Wednesday alone." Not to mention he'd had to cancel a date last week, because of this ridiculous incident and the tizzy it had the Ministry in.
His response was a shrug and the further aversion of eye contact. "I just… yeah, no, I'm going to need you to do it again."
Knowing how lengthy the process of filling out these reports tended to be, that meant he'd miss seeing Drake play this weekend, and he'd finally blocked out a weekend free of work to see his friend. Leaning forward, Nicodemo said in a low voice, "Twice before this, you've told me to redo that report because you neglected to give me information that needed to be included." He was going to have no friends by the end of the year. Nico couldn't even remember the last time he'd managed a social event outside of his flat.
Bristling a little at this insubordination, Blodkin put his hands up defensively and began, "Erm, I can't help that I'm so busy—"
"BUSY?" Nicodemo thundered, slapping his hands down on the desk. " BUSY? I DO ALL YOUR WORK FOR YOU!"
"Erm…!" he blustered, flapping his hands a little, "I think—"
"AN UNTRAINED MONKEY CAN DO MORE THAN YOU DO!" he shouted, surging to his feet and jabbing his finger in Blodkin's face.
"Mister Penrose, that is quite en—"
Bellowing, "SHALL WE PROVE IT?", Nicodemo flicked his wand at Blodkin and a bewildered monkey sat before him an instant later, cocking its head and chattering furiously.
"HOW ABOUT SOME CYMBALS?" he roared, overturning his In-going crate of rolled parchments and throwing it up in the air to transfigure. "Do you think you'd know what to do with those?"
Not even bothering to scale the damn thing, Nicodemo lashed out his foot and kicked the desk over, sending a cascade of papers and quills and inkwells tumbling over to the floor, and his supervising monkey scampering away with a shriek. Following after him, Nico all the while flicked great big shelves over, summoned doors off their hinges, turned a chair into a bear, charming fanfare out of thin air.
"Field trip for everybody, it's the CIRCUS!" he called, conjuring a blast of confetti which showered his alarmed, shell-shocked colleagues. "You!" Nicodemo pointed to one of the fatter wizards who routinely stole credit for his work. "How about a ringmaster!" Poof! He then aimed his wand at a chair, yelling, "Can't have one of those without a lion to tame!" Crack!
Put on a show he did, transfiguring a desk into a cannon (with its occupant now prepared to launch), a shelf into an elephant, and one very surprised witch into a tight-rope walker. By now, the monkey previously known as P. J. Blodkin was turning around in circles and screeching, banging on cymbal repeatedly against the ground.
Stalking toward the doors, he said, "Oh, and by the way," turning to face the pandemonium he and his wand had just caused. The monkey froze and scratched his head, looking at him in a general state of confusion. Nicodemo ripped off his Ministry badge and again marched forward, chucking the badge behind him as hard as he could.
"I QUIT!"
