The Wicked Ones

The Envelope

I grumble angrily as I slam my front door shut. Bear runs for cover as I throw my stuff down on the living room table. I angrily sit down on the couch and snatch my wallet off the table to retrieve the number from within. I pick up my phone and violently punch in the numbers.

"7-3-1-8-4-2-3-4-6-7." I say through gritted teeth.

It rings twice and someone picks up. I open my mouth ready to yell but I get promptly interrupted by a husky voice that says "Saturday. Noon. Brents Cafe. Be there." The voice says then briskly hangs up. Jesus. Not more puzzle shit.

I stand up and stretch my legs, then walk into my room and change for bed.

................................................................................................................................................................

The next few days pass slowly. More bad days at work. I mean, there weren't any customers due to the mall closing for investigation. But the cops won't stop asking me questions, then there's the whole continuous inventory thing.

I hate counting. Don't know why. Just do. Then there's the whole toilet problems situation to top the cake. Happens all the time but it's the worst! Saturday morning finally arrives. I wake up to a whining Bear.

I groan and practically crawl out of bed. I get dressed, do all the morning necessities, take Bear out, and then eat breakfast. I grab my things and open the door when I step out I hear paper crinkling. I look down and pick my foot up.

I furrow my eyebrows and pick up an old looking envelope. I open it using my key and pull out a piece of paper that says "You won't have to worry about him anymore." I drop my hands down to my side, look up at the sky and the rain gently pattering down upon my face and say "I hate my life."