Mister Nobody

By Magus Tor

Is it better to be a fake somebody or a real mister nobody?

Mister Nobody lives a very average life, with an average job and average friends. He has a bullying mother, a failed marriage and low self-esteem and that’s as good as life is going to get.

That is until Mister Somebody blazes into his work. Mister Somebody is the best salesman known to man, a slick, fast-talking, womanizer with a huge house and fast cars. Nobody is awe-inspired by the new man who takes him under his wing and suddenly Nobody’s life takes a new turn...but there’s a price to pay.

Mister Nobody is a moralistic but tongue-in-cheek novella from the author of Life Bank and the Moonful of Love series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beyond His Words
• Release date: Aug 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781516388691

Magus Tor

Magus Tor is a dreamer who enjoys dreaming varied dreams of being a doctor, a lawyer, a police officer and a teacher but never in the wildest dream to become a writer. Since starting to write in 2007, Magus continues to explore creating worlds in his imaginative mild. Although he wishes to specialize in writing fantasy but his mind twisted his will and he ended up writing more Science Fiction than Fantasy. So far, his only fantasy novella is D-Nine: Protectors of the Crown.

Book preview

Mr. Nobody

Chapter 1: An Ordinary Day

His morning routine was the usual. After awkwardly getting up from a slightly-too-short bed, he stretched his arms, almost touching the brownish ceiling. The bedroom felt crowded as always. He limped to the bathroom, trying to shake off the sleep from his left leg along the way. He splashed a bit of cold water to his face, a habit inherited from his father, his grandfather, and all his ancestors who came before them and brushed his teeth making gentle and steady motions throughout. After exactly three minutes of brushing, he spat out the white-blue-and-red toothpaste of an established low-cost manufacturer, rinsed his mouth with water first, then refreshed it additionally with a weird-sounding gargling of mouthwash. Needless to say, it was also produced by the same established, low-cost manufacturer.

He was very playful when it came to using a deodorant. His favorite was not that of a well-established, low-cost manufacturer, but a quite exquisite and quite expensive brand almost certainly, according to his belief, used by many really famous people around the world. He saw a famous actor in a commercial using it once. If he uses it, there certainly must be others, right?

Putting his ridiculously expensive deodorant back to its rightful place on a dusty little shelf above the bathroom sink, he looked quite content. He almost started whistling his favorite cartoon tune from his youth, but decided against it at the very last moment, remembering it was Monday.

The beginning of a new working week fouled his mood somewhat, and his anger caused his peeling of a banana to become slightly violent. He liked to be firm with his food sometimes. It made him feel in control. A strange habit by all means, but hey, who are we to judge?

Gulping down the remainder of the banana and the raspberry yoghurt, the most generic one, he stepped outside the house after wrapping himself into a hideous bathrobe he had gotten as a gift from his mother the previous year to check if the newspaper has been delivered. It hadn't, although it was past eight already. He muttered something under his breath about how he was going to notify somebody about the lazy manner of the paper boy. He knew the kid well because the little brat lived just a couple of houses down the street. The boy was a nasty little monster indeed, covered with pimples and ignorant of any basic manners.

The state of being without his morning newspaper forced him to do something he really despised: checking the news on the internet. He was an old-fashioned kind of a guy, you see, and internet was more of a nuisance than an actual pleasure. He had to use it in his work occasionally, though, and that realization scared what was the remainder of a tiny, tiny little smile from his face.

It has been his 1655th working day at the factory, and the factory felt like another home to him, but the feeling of actually going there for the 1655th time in a row caused concern about the general direction of his life. He shook off the thought with a twinge from a painful left elbow, which he had a moment before bumped against the edge of his kitchen table.

Unlocking his car, he took a moment to turn around and gaze at his small but comfortable house for a second. Twenty-seven years, ten months, and eleven day, and it would really be lawfully his. That was another realization he maybe didn’t need on a Monday morning.

Cruising down the same old streets he passed twice each working day, he glanced at his rearview mirror. There was a car in it, a big one. An expensive looking SUV or something like that. It passed him easily, not even bothering to turn on his turn signal. Its plate said, SMBDY2❤.

That made him angry. All those rich people with their fancy cars, thinking they own the road. It made him think about spitting in fury, but luckily, he had no spit to utilize. His throat and mouth were completely dry, probably from the anger itself. Life is really funny that way.

Stopping his car in front of a sluice that marked the beginning of the company’s huge parking lot, he nervously gazed at the security guard. The guy, although clearly unimportant in the big order of things in the company, had a proud smirk on his weasel-like face, looking much like a big boss wannabe. Good morning, Mr. Nobody. He sounded amused. How are we on this fine morning?

A dry, Whatever was all he got in reply from Nobody. Now, to some of us this may look like a clear breach of general etiquette, but the two men had a long history. It made Mr. Nobody’s dry, unfriendly reply a great kindness. Mr. Keeper was actually the reason Nobody split from Mrs. Nobody, after which she called herself by her maiden name again, Miss NoOne. It was Scottish.

The nasty consequences of a certain divorce aside, Nobody had a damned good reason to hate the guy. He hadn’t slept with Nobody's wife or anything like that. He had just offered the then Mrs. Nobody a piece of advice. To buy a cat for those moments when Mr. Nobody was at work, leaving his unemployed, unattractive, unskilled, and unmotivated wife home alone. She had bought the furry monster, making Nobody’s life a true hell. The man was allergic to cats, you see. He had cried, swelled, coughed – anything he could have done to show his hate for the creature, but nothing worked. The former Mrs. Nobody loved the creature. So he had asked her to choose him or it. Surprisingly, she had chosen the creature.

Can I see your ID, Mr. Nobody? the guard demanded. It was a funny game they played every single day. To Nobody, it was definitely not all that funny.

Why do you need my ID? You just called me by my name. You obviously know who I am. You see me passing this ugly sluice each and every morning, for God’s sake.

"Rules are rules, Mr. Nobody. I wouldn’t be where I