|
|
Post by Finley Montgomery on Jun 16, 2010 1:35:25 GMT -5
Ben Franklin thought that the only hope for democracy was if people would respect each other enough to compromise. Finley had always thought of Mr. Franklin as a wise man, who always spoke the truth. His secretary that had been appointed to him did not feel the same way. She had a very strict scheduling policy, one that said Finley must tell her who he wants to make an appointment with and then she will put it where it needed to go. He was not aloud to make appointments on his own, ever. Not even if they involved family. He was supposed to have a very important get together with John Hyons, a major sponsor of his recent employee’s campaign, about donating more money and talking on his employee’s behalf. But after he came all the way down to the restaurant and waiting for a good twenty minutes, he called Mr. Hyon’s and was informed that his secretary called and cancelled the meeting, pushing it to another day.
”You’ve got to be kidding.” he muttered as he slammed his phone down on the table and rubbed his hands up and down his own face. Slowly, the thought of hitting his secretary over the head with her beloved schedule book and then hiding the body crept into his system. Ah yes, it all seemed simple, after he beat her to a pulp, he would shove her into the trunk of her own Honda Element, drive all the way to Florida, and dump her into the gulf. Maybe the oil spill would swallow her whole. After taking a few deep, cleansing breaths he picked his phone back up and called his office. She picked up after two rings. Finley somehow knew she was waiting for his call. That’s the kind of smug old lady she turned out to be, always looking out of her glass house towards his transparent structure.
“Why was my meeting canceled?”
“Well, I know I forgot to tell you about it but in case you haven’t noticed, I have a lot on my….”
“Don’t tell me rules are rules! I am a very important man and….”
“Hello? Hello?”
What the hell? He was not just hung up on by a fifty-year-old woman. Why on earth had they hired her anyways? She wasn’t even a Democrat! He groaned at the thought of having to deal with her until the election, maybe longer if he was taken along for the ride. If he didn’t get this money, they only had a few more weeks before they were running dry. Even though he was in a semi-nice restaurant, he could not resist slamming his head repeatedly on the table. While in the process of doing so, he did not notice his cell phone fall off of the table nor the silverware, he was too busy making mince meat of his forehead. Finley doesn’t know how long he stayed there, sniffing the white tablecloth and wishing for an infinitely brighter tomorrow, but he was not planning on getting up any time soon. The waitress did not get his memo, so she stood there slowly building up her annoying little cough. “What?” he muttered, wishing she would stop trying to be polite and just ask him what he wanted to order. “Can I get you anything today?’ she asked, still trying to get a good tip. “Coke and whiskey and the house dessert.” Finley exhaled when he heard her shoes shuffle off into the abyss, glad he was finally free of that huge problem. Hopefully she would not come back unless his table was on fire, and someone else would bring his food.
Word Count: about 610
Status: Open!
|
|
|
|
Post by Cindy Malendez on Jun 17, 2010 20:07:47 GMT -5
It took an insane amount of work, but Cindy’s staff had once again forced her to take a day off. She often found herself working every day for several weeks straight, never bothering to consider taking time off. Work was her escape, so what good did it do to be forced to stay home for an entire day? She never knew what to do with herself on days like this and eventually ended up feeling more miserable and stressed than she could ever possibly have found herself if she had been working. A day off for most people meant relaxing and enjoying themselves, but Cindy hadn’t been able to do that in years. Perhaps if she allowed herself to heal from the things in her past that troubled her, things would be better. Instead, she chose to bury herself in her work and pretend that nothing was wrong.
Fearing she would go insane if she spent another minute in her house, Cindy decided to find something else to do. She donned a black, short-sleeved v-neck blouse and a pair of dark blue denim jeans. Her hair was thrown up in a neat ponytail and she decided on a comfortable pair of black heels to tread around in. Not a huge change from her work attire, but her wardrobe mostly revolved around work-appropriate clothing, so what else was to be expected? Her initial plan was to take a quick detour to see how things were going at the restaurant, but she remembered her promise to her staff that she would do her best to stay away for at least one day. Instead, she ended up at a far more casual establishment. As she entered Fado, she glanced around her as she decided whether or not this was a wise choice. Before she had much of a chance to change her mind, however, the smell of food triggered her appetite and quickly drew her in. As far as she was concerned, it didn’t matter what type of food there was there, just so long as she could get rid of the lingering hunger that had been following her for hours.
She was shown to a small table near the bar and was left alone to look over the menu. It was hard to believe she was at such a place at this time of day, but as she said, any food would do for the time being and this happened to be the first place she saw. It was a little surprising to her that she had never been in the place throughout her time living in Pasadena, but she supposed she had never really been interested in the idea of an Irish Pub. To her delight, the place appeared to be rather friendly and the décor was rather creative, to say the least. Cindy ordered herself an appetizer and a soda when the server returned. She hadn’t focused much on the menu up to this point due to her fascination with the place. As a restaurant owner, she couldn’t help but take in the little details of every establishment she walked into.
As she was munching on her potato bread, which was yet another pleasant surprise, she couldn’t help but overhear the banter that was coming from a table behind her. She wasn’t sure whether she was more annoyed or amused with the man, but she felt the need to say something anyway. When she turned around, the man was mercilessly banging his head against the table. Yes, it annoyed her, she decided, but she was also curious to know what would make someone abuse their forehead like that. “Excuse me,” she said with a slight grin on her face that she couldn’t seem to help. “I know this isn’t meant to be the most peaceful of places, but if you wouldn’t mind waiting until later to punish your head like that?” she told him in a tone that indicated she was barely serious, if at all. She hoped this man didn’t take his anger out on others to the extent that he did himself. If that were the case, she’d most likely leave him alone, though she wouldn’t mind having someone to chat with, even if he appeared a bit insane at the moment.
|
|
