Chapter Text
‘-annoying pieces of shit, they all are, and it's the exact reason why I- no, I've told you I don't want to but noo! You just have to-!’
Stanley sometimes makes the Narrator believe he is an insane man. His constant ramblings do not help.
Maybe it's the isolation, he thinks, but he shakes that off. Stanley isn't isolated! He has.. well, he has the Narrator. Surely that counts! And free rein of the office, that probably counts as not being isolated.
It's a weak defense, but honestly, it's something.
‘-because you, obviously, said so about all of it and 'of course you would know to follow, why wouldn't you?', what shit are you spouting? I swear, one of these days-,’
And he still doesn't stop talking because Stanley does what he does best; he fills in the dark crevices and the empty spaces with his presence, his words and his feelings because why would he not? What else would a man fall to when he feels like he's going utterly insane, stuck in a never-ending, always repeating.. game?
If he had been saying the word he would have practically spat it out.
‘-ENTIRELY ridiculous, I tell you! But yet here we are with all this bullshit going on and oh WONDERFUL, look at the plants, look at the windows, look at the boxes! 'All there for your entertainment, Stanley,' but if it's meant to entertain why is the audience still unhappy with-?!’
Sometimes the Narrator believes Stanley is truly too far up his own arse. That, or the Parable has actually led the man to the very edge of his sanity.
Metaphors, disgusting.
Stanley finally quits his angry tirade and immediately spins on his heel, marching back out of the door he'd walked into previously.
The storage room and the lift greets him, and very easily, he walks right on over and leaps over the railing of the edge.
The Narrator winces and he sighs when the mans body hits the ground with a grotesque splat.
"Foul."