“Dyan! Ruby! Are you ready yet?” My dad yelled from the downstairs parlor. One of his employees and his wife were coming over for what they called “appatizers” but I know my mom prepared a whole meal. My father had told me countless times how much that man scared him.
“Its his eyes!” He would insist. When we were younger, (me and my sister Ruby) He used to walk through the door and pretend he was his him.
“Stan! I want a raise. I want more money. I want more customers blah blah blah” He’d joke and mimick his evil eye. We would barral over laughing our heads off. Thats just one of the countless things I missed about him. You would be lying if you said I was excited about meeting this man.
We raced down the stairs, both of us tripping over the last one and laughing. Usually my dad would laugh with us, but tonight he was tense.
“Dad, if you don’t like this man, why don’t you just fire him?” I asked.
“Truth is, He’d say “I’m afraid to!”
As if on cue a knock sounded from the door. My father stepped forward and streightoned his tie. Ruby and I hurried up as he opened the door. There, standing in front of me was the scariest man I have ever seen. His slicked back hair lay stiff on his head and and long neck stood high. He was more than six feet tall, and as he looked down at us I could see why my dad was afraid of firing him. His dark eyes were like two black holes waitinke two big marbles ag to slurp ypu up if you messed with him. They were wide and big and mostly white. And his wife, well, she looked terrified. He stepped forwald.
“Hmm, He murmurred, “You have children.”
“Yes,” said my dad, “This is Dylan and this is Ruby.”
The man stepped in front of me and bent down. He was so close I could feel his hot breathe on my face.
“I don’t like children.” He whispered in my ear. He turned on his heel and walked out of the foyer, but not before turning back to give us the famous evil eye. His wife scurried behind.
“Why, hello!” My mother cheerfully greeted our guests from the other room.
“Hello.” He snarled sitting down in one of the stools. He held his nose. “What is that disgusting stench?”
“Um, well, I made fish.” My mother stuttered.
“I hate fish.”
There was silance. He broke the silence by saying “Lets talk hours.”
“Um, what about it?” My father said, “Yours hours are very fair.”
“Not fair enough for me. Make it ten to two.”
“ Absolutely not. Elevan to Four is very reasonable.”
“Not good enough for me. “ The horrid man stated standing up.
My father followed suit and I could see by the way he clenched his fists and how tthe fire danced in his eyes that he was angry. And I was proud.
“What about my hours? I work from six in the morning to eight at night. And I have children to look after” My dad shot back.
“Well itsnot like your children are anything special.” The nasty man said with a sly smile. “They are putrid, disgusting beasts.”
“I want you out of my house. You are fired.”
“You’ll be sorry Mr. Phillips. Very sorry.” With that he storm out the door, slamming it at the end.
My father ran upstairs. My mother went to comfort him. My sister started texting her friends what happened. Me? I cried. Why? Because I knew something would happen to us now that that man was fired. But I didn’t know it would be something this big.
