Eridanus ~ A Collection Of Short Stories

Money Lost is a Job Gained

I was on my way back from the bank on that sunny day, to withdraw my monthly payment. As much as I hated the job of working at that call centre on those exhausting night shifts, it did bring a fairly good salary (and well, I can't pretend the cafeteria is all that bad, and I don't spend ten minutes just deciding what to order). Naturally, like most ambitious people, I had been saving up considerably for months. Maybe I'd finally get that beachside villa. In about forty years.

So the salary that had been credited into my account was what I had drawn from the bank that day. I wasn't particularly fond of the cashier at the counter. I literally had to pry the envelope from her fingers. I wish I could have made it a point that she wasn't parting with her BMW and it was my money. The money I hoped would be able to get that villa...in forty years. You get the point. She didn't.

Anyway, with the cash envelope in my hand, I strolled out and leisurely glanced at the sights alongside. The cobble stones gleamed in the sunlight and I almost prophecied the bright sky was an omen for good luck that day, when I tripped on the edge of a manhole lid. I immediately stumbled and tried to steady myself.

My hand cried out (or it might have been me) when that precious cash envelope was wrenched away by the cruel forces of gravity. Instead of fluttering gently and landing right beside me, the envelope fell right in the manhole. You can never trust movies, with their perfect scenes.

Naturally, I dove right into the depths of hell. Okay, it was a manhole. But it had just selfishly devoured my money! The money that would hopefully buy that villa...You get it, don't you? The sewer didn't.

As I climbed down the manhole, I quickly discovered a bio-warfare weapon. The stench that could knock every last citizen in the country out cold. Where the soldiers of World War 3 would be too unconscious to fight.

Wishing I had an oxygen tank, I carefully manuevered through the dark tunnels, feeling slightly adventurous like a player in Jumanji. Then I reminded myself that I was in the sewer and looked nothing like Smolder Bravestone.

With ten whole minutes gone, my poor envelope was still nowhere in sight. A few steps further, I thought I saw a flash of paper nearby. Rushing to pick it out of the black water, I realised it was an old grocery bill. Written by...oh, me. Thank you, fate, for reuniting me with my scrap of paper.

Many splashes later, I trudged down the canal, my phone flashlight on. It was my only beacon of hope.

Observing movement nearby, I noticed there was a small shadow in the corner. To my horror, it was heading towards me. I screamed and lashed out and kicked hard. The poor mouse died of a heart attack. One can never be too careful down in a sewer. It could have been a crocodile for all I knew.

An hour and many curses later, I climbed out of the depths of hell, without the envelope. I had given up hope of finding the money and I was too dejected to continue with the search. I said goodbye to my beachside villa. Ah well, maybe a log cabin in the woods would have to suffice.

As I climbed out, I didn't draw much attention, because the street was deserted. I don't think the people would have noticed a ravaging elephant, let alone someone who just emerged from a sewer.

I was back in the sunlight, and drew ouy phone to switch the flashlight off. With my head buried in the screen, I was oblivious to the new presence that had approaced me –  a tall figure clad in a blue jacket and a beard. He had a camera in his hand. Was he a photographer? Would his next subject be some freak who liked diving into manholes as a hobby? And then he spoke.

"You were a terrific actress, miss!" he said, grinning and displaying the camera in his hand. As he shoved the screen near my face, I saw my life flash before my eyes. Literally. I watched that sewer episode on the screen, aghast.

Turns out, the man was a fairly big director. For his new project, he had converted the sewer into a new set, and had just waited for some unsuspecting person to walk in. And apparently, I had done just that. It was a fantastic job, and all my actions had been filmed by the cameras there.

Two years later, I still haven't found that envelope. How much money did it contain? 5000? 500?

Who cares? I'm an actor now.