101 Reasons Why

Cupcake

But, I was once again snapped back to reality when I accidentally bumped into the T.V., during my long trek downstairs through the darkness of my pitch black house. It blasted full volume. “Breaking news: Dalmatian puppies stolen from local London home.” The plan had to get rolling, so I quickly changed back into my everyday clothes and got back into my car. I started my drive to the coat factory on the outskirts of London.

I arrived and was buzzed in. My contact told me to only refer to him as Cupcake. It was a shady operation and business I shouldn’t be getting into, but I knew this had to be done. I met him in his office that evening and sat across from him at his desk decorated with miscellaneous objects. He wore a dark trench coat and pitch black shades.

“Cruella...Baby...Darling," said Cupcake, “Welcome to the operation. Once you bring me the pups, I can have them skinned and made into coats in a couple of days. By the time the cops start searching there will be no evidence and we will all be happy.”

“Wait… did you say skin them? I thought you were just going to shave them and let them go,” I questioned.

“No, honey there won’t be any yip or whimper left in the things. We pull the fur off like bandages off skin. Then they are fed to my pet vulture, for he gets very very hungry in these winter months,” He replied with no emotion.

“But, then I’d be charged with 101 deaths.  Can’t you just shave them?” I retorted.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but there is so little fur on those scrawny creatures. If you want the longest, fluffiest coat they will have to be skinned, darling, no other option, period,” Cupcake said unsympathetically.

“Well... Okay, then. I’ll bring you the puppies tomorrow. But, let’s say I back out of this deal…”

Cupcake cut me off “There's no backing out. You signed the contract.”

“Oh okay… I’ll make sure to bring the puppies at the crack of dawn,” I stated. I then hastily exited the establishment and returned to my car. My emotions fluctuated like crazy. I started to have no idea of the difference between right and wrong at that point in time. My conscience had officially turned off and an evil smile had crept onto my face, as I finally started to realize what a villain I had become. There was no turning back now...or was there?    

Doubts coursed silently through my head, but my night still continued. As I sat rigidly in my car, shadows flitting by, I ran through the day’s events in my head. My sinister desires battled with my conscience, locked in a silent war for most of the ride.  But finally everything clicked, and I knew what I needed to do. No matter how wrong it seemed. My old friend had to be remembered. I felt I was obligated to make the coat, for Speckles. If I backed out now my own pain and suffering would not have been worth it either.