Plotting and Twiddling

Spurious T. Plotting let the answering machine pick up this call too, and the one before that, and the one before that...the office light was dim, 25 watt; just like his brain at the moment.  Blue smoke, from a vapor inhaler, the neo cigarette, drifted and curled toward the ceiling. These vapor cigs sucked so bad...he hated them.

Things were definitely looking up for Spurious; that's if your chair had flopped over backward, or you were considering a blow for a guy that wouldn't give you a second thought, otherwise. He was hoping against knocks at the door; there was nothing left to repossess. It was all gone, but the rug and the phone...and the flickering lamp light...rrrrrrrrrrrrrring...oh shit! The phone grinned at him like a dildo with teeth..."hello?", he said; meekly and questionably.

"Is this Mr. Plotting, Mr. Spurious T. Plotting?" "Uh, yeah...".  "And you are a 'ghost' for hire, writer, I understand?" "Ghostwriter, yeah...I do that too?" "I have a story for you, well...for me, but of course...you would be the writer." "Then, you're talking, a commission, a job." "More than a job Mr. Spurious." "Plotting...Plotting!" "Oh, yes, of course...Mr. Plotting." "It would pay handsomely...someday." Plotting slammed down the phone; stareing at it like it was diseased.

He heard a scuffling noise at the door and saw an envelope being slid through the crack at the bottom. It hadn't occured to him to hear what else the guy had to say, on the phone. It was one of those stress test moments that always fly on the wings of the real American eagle, otherwise known as 'the bird'. He walked over to the package, as he watched a shadow pass by the other side of the door.

He picked it up...rather heavy, and it felt like...no, not a bomb...he didn't know anybody had that much interest in him. No, this felt like...oh my god! It was money, a shit wad of it. He finished tearing open the envelope, pouring the contents on the floor...It was new money in packets, thousands...had to be thousands...and a note..."Mr. Spurious...you should answer your phone more often...please meet me tonight at Gregory's Restaurant...8 sharp...I'll find you...T.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Idea for a rough draft of a project, requiring two writers