All Good Things
Wait For It, Wait For It
...Cecil heard tires screeching and before he could move away, a taxi splashed one of yesterday’s rain puddle all over his suit. “Just what I needed,” ...
…Last Friday night, yeah we maxed our credit cards and got kicked out of the bar, so we hit the boulevard…With a groan Cecil punched the top of the alarm clock, trying to ignore the pounding in his head. He has been sick for the past two days with a rather strong cold. The man groggily perched on the edge of his bed and tried to focus on the blinking red lights that came from his night stand.
“That’s not right,” Cecil murmured and sat up, going to his drawer to put on clothes. Half way through putting on his trousers, Cecil froze like a deer in headlight, his thoughts screeching to a halt. “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” he growled, proceeding to dress himself with lightning speed. “I’m late.”
In a matter of minutes, Cecil was outside and on his way to work. Luckily, his office was only a block away, so he would be faster on foot. Luckily it stopped raining yesterday. He waited on the last crossing before work when Cecil heard tires screeching and before he could move away, a taxi splashed one of yesterday’s rain puddle all over his suit. “Just what I needed,” Cecil sighed and when the pedestrian light turned green, continued on his way.
Cecil changed into the spare suit he always kept at the office. As soon as he sat down behind his computer, the door opened and the department’s secretary hurried in, her name tag with Clare written on it only just barely holding to her blouse. She had a large sheaf of papers in her hands.
“This is the Waterstone case. Mr. Killborne wants you to take it over,” Clare stammered out and with a bang, put the papers on Cecil’s table.
“I thought Josie had that covered,” Cecil asked.
“She got stomach flu, and the trial is in three days. Mr. Killborne says you are the best, so you get to be stuck with it.” To Clare’s credit, she did look very apologetic about it. A man’s voice shouted her name from the hallway and with another pitiful look, she left Cecil’s office.
“No, no, it is okay. I will take over the case whose last trial is in three days which took months to prepare for,” Cecil muttered under his breath and started to answer his e-mails.
A few hours passed and it was time for a late lunch. In his hurry Cecil found out that he forgot his lunch at home, so he would have to take a trip to the office’s cafeteria. It was a nest of gossip, grudges and scorn. Cecil hated eating there. Luckily, it did not seem too busy, so Cecil decided to make himself a sandwich. On the cheese, the knife in Cecil’s hand slipped and nicked his hand. Softly cursing under his breath, he tried to staunch the bleeding, but it did not seem to stop, though it was not very urgent either. Wrapping several paper towels around his hand, Cecil went to see his boss to be excused and asked to work from home for the rest of his day. After seeing the state of his hand, Killborne promptly ordered Cecil to visit the hospital and then go home.
Tired and weary, Cecil returned home from the hospital defeated beyond reason with two stitches. It seemed Fridays were cursed for him, as nothing good ever happened to him lately on these days. Cecil wiped his muddy shoes on the Welcome Home mat and noticed a bright orange nerf gun leaning against the front door, as well as a small note attached to the center of it.
Sorry you had a bad day. At least you got some time to talk to me while you waited for the doc. Therefore, to make you feel better, I challenge you to a nerf gunfight. Winner gets the larger piece of chocolate cake and the loser does the dishes. Sounds fair?
P.S. Tomorrow will be better. Good things come to those who wait for them or something like that. ;)
Cecil folded the letter with a small smile and put it in his suit’s front pocket. Let the fun begin.
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Poetry poetry poetry! This is where submissions get a bit more creative than most, and it's a wonder how many HOLers (particularly the eagles) are filled with fabulous artsyness.