It is Fiction Friday again. We are going to continue with our story from last week.
Enjoy!
Stuck in the Driveway Part V
“Hey,” the walking man yells, “the Princess and the pea is awake.”
“Princess and the pea,” the man on the floor croaks his voice dry from sleeping.
“Yeah, you've been out for a while now. And you know, you were sleeping”
“Ok, but the “Princess and the Pea” is a story a princess who takes refuge in a castle on a stormy night. It is not stormy, nor is raining, nor do I imagine, I am in a castle,” his voices begins to get stronger the more he talks.
“You know what buddy?” walking man says, “You better keep quiet.”
“I'm just saying you would have been better to be cliched and call me Sleeping Beauty. At least that would have been accurate.”
“Enough!”
The man hears a second man walk in. “I see our guest has awakened.”
“Guest? What is it with you guys and using words wrong?" the man ask "Guest implies that I want to be here. You guys probably use your and you're or to, two, and too wrong.”
“What are you talking about?” the second walking man asks.
“Otto, this guy has been rambling since he woke up. Go get the boss, he wanted to know as soon as he woke up.”
“All right Jorge. I'll get him. You better watch it Sport!”
“Sport? What, are you my coach?”
“Shut up!” Jorge and Otto yell.
Otto returns with The Boss. “Pick him up and put him in that chair.”
“Wouldn't be easier if you untied me and took off my blindfold? Then I could walk.”
“Quiet,” The Boss says. Jorge and Otto and put the man in the chair. “Mr. Brogan...," The Boss continues.
“Mr. Brorgan. Who's Mr. Brogan?” the man now seated in the chair asks.
“Fine, let me guess," The Boss says. "You are going to tell us that Mr. Brogan was your dad. Otto tells me you are quite the comedian. Fine then, we will go by first names, Stanley.”
“You're right, Mr. Brogan was my dad. But, that's not where I was going. I'm not Stanley either.” The man in the chair suddenly feels a hard circular object being pushed into the back of his head.
“Enough of your talking. Now is the time for you to listen.”
“But,”
“ENOUGH! If you speak one more time other than direct responses to my questions, Otto is going to going to silence you. I suggest you cooperate.”
The man in the chair finds it very hard not to make a comment. My goodness, what is going on? I am being held by two guys named Jorge and Otto, who don't have European accents, and being grilled by some guy they call THE BOSS. It's like Skip McClure's Comedy Hour. I am waiting for Allen Funt to jump and say “SMILE, You're on Candid Camera.”
“Do you understand, Mr. Brogan?” The Boss asks.
“Yes.”
“Good. Mr. Brogan, you have been under surveillance for month's We know that you are scheduled to meet your investors today, or the people you think are your investors. And this is what we want to talk to you about.”
“Ok,” the man in the chair responds.
“That's much better. No more of your rants. We are running short on time, and I am running short on patience.”
“I'll answer what I can.” His usual self-confidence was starting to dissipate. The more The Boss talked, the more nervous he got. The gun didn't help, and he begins to think, If Otto there sneezes and causes his body to convulse, I am dead meat. Brings a whole new meaning to the term snot rocket. Joking to himself helped ease his nerves.
“We know that your lawn care business is being funded by international Investors," the boss says. "We also know that you were rejected for a good many government contracts handed out as a result of the government bail out. You couldn't earn enough points in the bids because you weren’t Minority or Woman Owned Business. That is what made you take money from your foreign investors. Did you know that the fertilizer feeds more than the grass?”
“Ah, no,” the man in the chair responds.
“That fertilizer leeches into soil and gets into the water supply.”
“Sounds like normal fertilizer to me.”
“It does, doesn't it. But, it is stronger than anything else available in the U.S. It is a special blend,” says The Boss.
“Ok, enlighten me.”
“Mr. Brogan, your fertilizer is killing your town. And other foreign investors are 'helping' other small landscape businesses all over the country. The fertilizer all of these companies are using is poisoning this nation!”
“Listen...”
“NO! You listen to me, Mr. Brogan. The investors chose to back companies they knew couldn't turn down there help or they would risk closing up shop. I believe your investors are Chinese. There are also investors from Afghanistan, Iran, and other countries. Do you see the pattern?”
“Hey, this is a great story and all. But, I am not Stanley,” he felt the gun being pressed harder against his head. “Let me finish. I understand the confusion. I do look an awful lot like Stanley. I'm Stanley's twin brother Michael.”
“I grow weary of your denials and your talking. You have been under surveillance for months. You were at the Brogan's this morning. You are Stanley Brogan, and I will not sit here and have you make me into a fool. Stanley Brogan does not have any brothers.”
“But he does. Stanley doesn't even know about me. Our mom and dad were still in high school when they had us. She had to give one of us for adoption. Stanley was the one she kept. I just found out about Stanley last year.”
“Let me get this straight – Michael, you said your name was?” Michael nodded. “You expect me to believe this cockamamie story about a long, lost twin brother who has come home at last. Spare me the prodigal son story. I am done with you. Otto!”
“Wait! Stanley has a tattoo on his right fore arm,” the man spat out quickly. “I don't have one. Look at my Driver's License in my wallet. Have Hans and Franz check.”
“Um, boss,” Otto starts, “his Driver's License says he is Michael Dauson from South Bend, Indiana.”
“No tattoo either boss,” Jorge says.
“Give me that!” The Boss yells. “Jorge and Otto, you grabbed the wrong guy!"
“I don't mean to be critical, but the story of the Prodigal Son isn't about a long, lost twin brother...” before Michael could finish correcting The Boss, Otto sneezes and the gun goes off.
To be continued...Stuck in the Driveway Part VI
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