Three months had passed since Debbie watched the operative "Beth" walk into the factory in her "construction chick" getup, the orange shirt and overall tucked into work boots. The plant had worked, she pretending to be interested in getting ahead in life, to get out of factory work. She never actually did the work, just walked in the front door and out the back at lunch time, never to return. The supervisor was also a plant and knew the drill.
She was sitting her blue Neon listening to the Beatles A Hard Days Night CD. If I Fell was playing. She took another deep drag of her Lucky strikes and threw it out the window. This was the crappy part of the game, just sitting back and letting things fall into place. But that was ok. If it meant having that blonde floozie out of her life once and for all, the wait was worth it.
The chick had done her job well, getting close to the boss's secretary, Twink. What a name, Debbie thought to herself. Gotta be a fake. Who the hell names their kid Twink? Twink had a sister named Twiggins who was an airline captain and the chick had convinced her that she was really interested in getting "back" into the airline industry, having worked as a baggage handler in the past. Twink and Twiggins, what the hell was the world coming too? Didn't anyone named thier kid Debbie anymore?
The rest had been easy. A couple of greased palms here, a few forged tests there, and construction chick was in like velcro on polyester pants.
Debbie looked at her watch. The Air Tran flight should be landing in about twenty minutes. Time to head on over to the Pink Flamingo.
The Beatles were finishing up Can't Buy Me Love. Oh yeah? she smirked to herself. We'll see.
_________________________________________________________
Maynard's head was throbbing again. Commishoner Oyl was reading him the riot act once again since he left his potato chips all over the squad car. She had sat in a big pile of them and now there was grease all over her black skirt.
He hoped he hadn't hurt the Rookie Sar and Sgt. Canold too badly. He hadn't intended for them to both be doing back flips out the back end of the convertible, but it sure did give the effect he wanted. They handled it like the pros he knew that they were.
He looked over at Commishioner Oyl who was still going "...and if I EVER find any more of those damn things in my office..." He blocked her out again, just nodding his head in apology and letting her go on.
Just the same, he knew it was time to start getting ammoed up for the hit at the Pink Flamingo. Someone was sure to take a hit this time around. He hoped it wasn't him, but rather it was if it came down to him or the girls.
Commishioner Oyl was just about finishing up when he spied the picture on her desk that she had showed him when he was called in several months ago. It was the blown up photo, the one Rookie Sar had brought in for him to examine. There had been something in Danger Broad's Hand that evening at the Granola Bar the both of them couldn't figure out without the closeup.
He looked down at the picture and his heart stopped.
Why hadn't he seen this before?
"...ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME MAYNARD!!!" Oyl was screeching, noticing he had stood up suddenly to look at something on her desk.
"Look, Commish! Look! Look at what she's holding in her hand! We thought it was a pen!"
Oyl was panting she was so angry, her ample chest heaving up and down. She swallowed hard before she was going to begin her tirade again, when Maynard grabbed the photo off her desk and thrust it into her face.
"Look" he said, impatiently now. "Look what she has in her hand!"
Then she saw it.
Could it be?
They looked at each other.
Maynard's smile went from East to West. "Got her" he said. "We got her."
Oyl picked up the phone, still speechless and mentally banging her head against the wall for not seeing it.
"Get me the President" she said. "Yeah. Of the United States."
No comments:
Post a Comment