Sandwich

There’s a ticking, clicking, scratching that reverberates through Alec’s head. It had once been a hum, but that was long ago.

He never really discovered why he heard these usually indistinct, yet bothersome noises; he only knew they occurred quite frequently. At times the hums or clicks would form patterns that sounded like words. They tended to be innocuous.

After some time, Alec realized that no matter how the hums - now clicks - arranged themselves, or whatever words they formed, they tended to speak to the heart of his desires. For example, when he was hungry, the noises tended to lean towards food, tapping out in his skull something sounding like sandwich.

For years he had followed the strange noises because they made sense. They were always in tune with Alec and always looking out for him.

This may be the primary reason that while sitting in Mr. MacGowen’s office, Alec didn’t much hesitate when voices said something akin to “kill.” Noting that Alec, indeed, is not - nor will be - a whale, the noise could not be confused with “krill.” Nor could it be “Bill” - MacGowen’s name was Howard - or even the seemingly far-fetched “mill” - Alec didn’t have a single Dutch relation, let alone a need for a mill.

And though MacGowen’s face momentarily showed a deep shock for what Alec was doing with the ornate fountain pen previously sitting in a decorative block of wood, a type of morbid serenity took its place on his face; that is, of course, after MacGowen had gone quite pale.

Alec wiped off his arms, it seems he had got a bit of MacGowen on his shirt. Then he placed the pen back into its fancy wooden pedestal. The clicks in Alec’s head kept on clicking as he towered over the drained MacGowen and they kept going as Alec went to the office door to leave.

They kept ticking and clicking and scratching away and, as Alec’s stomach growled, he could’ve sworn they said “sandwich.”