Cereal
-B.J. Leopold
The Sandwich: Episode IV
Sandy picked herself up off the floor; picked her way across the tiles to the ravaged carcass that she rode in with, and very nearly added the contents of her stomach to the spreading pool of blood. With a deep breath, she plunged her fingers into his shirt pocket and extracted the thin bracelet smoothly. And again she plunged, this time for the wallet. Tucking both in her pocketbook alongside her small pistol, she walked deliberately past the glass-covered corpse in the doorway.
Outside, there was a car, engine purring contentedly despite its look of a recent wreck, sitting with its door open. Sandy didn't hesitate in climbing into the driver's seat, closing the door, and guiding the car out onto the highway. Only then did she notice the police light on the seat beside her, and the low buzzing of the police radio under the dash. A bemused smile cleared a hole in the panic: the cop wouldn't be needing his car anymore anyway.
The small grey man pulled into the garage behind the mansion, turned off the car, and leaned back with a tiny wince that showed only in his eyes. He reached over to the passenger seat, and gently removed the bavarian creme donut from its wax-paper sheath, as he did after every kill. The grey man removed his sunglasses, closed his eyes, and bit into the thick handful of gustatory heaven.
His shoulder was worse than he had thought at first, judging by the amount of blood that had spread through his white shirt and into his grey wool. When he had finished his celebratory donut, the small man proceeded inside to find a bandage, though thinking he would settle for a wad of tissues and some tape if necessary, anything to stop the bleeding. The small man headed for the bathroom to requisition a bandage, not noticing the large empty space in the tall man's desk chair.
Jan turned the radio down as she neared the toll booth to get off the highway. She smiled pretty for the nice young man, handed him some coins she found on the dash, and drove away, confident that he would not remember to check the wanted posters
|
for her face. Jan had no real idea if she was wanted or not, but it never hurt to be one step ahead of them, whoever they were. She unwrapped the sandwich in her lap as she manoeuvre off the highway. The sandwich at first seemed to have come from your average deli restaurant, but at the first bite, Jan was duly impressed. The sandwich was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted, and filling as if it was twice its real size. She finished it with a sated smile.
The tall man was pacing in the foyer, not wanting to return to his office and face the reality of the missing sandwich. No word had come in of the Victor incident, and the small man had not yet checked in with him, which he always did after a successful mission; like a puppy dog wanting a pat on the head, but with cold, delicate eyes and bloody fingernails. Impeccable fingernails, actually, but somehow they always seemed bloody to the tall man, no matter how hard he blinked at them or rubbed his eyes. His own fingernails were being chewed to the base as he waited. That sandwich was of utmost importance, he was sure Victor had understood that, therefore Victor must have been against him from the beginning, or else that harlot influenced him away from his loyalties to the boss. OH, yes, the harlot. He had forgotten about her; forgotten to tell the small man to kill her too so she wouldn't leak any news of the sandwich to his... competitors. He would have to make a note of that for the future.
To be continued...
Come Bitch at Us!
Do you have a problem with anything GDT has printed? Maybe you really like our stuff (say...) and want to meet some of the people responsible?
Here's your chance.
Some of the GDT staff and editors will in the Fireside Lounge at 12 noon on November 11th.
Stop by and visit. |
|