Timothy Discovers the Bad News
Timothy stared at his office again. Nothing was amiss but something was wrong... different. He scanned again, the acrylic painting of a lesser Eastern sub-noble with what was supposed to be a mysterious smile. The frame centered perfectly between his designer Etherwyg file cabinet and Elk-bone desk. The oval rug was just a few inches off center to show a bit of jauntiness to prospective paranoids that were too worried about perfect arrangements. The incandescent in the ceiling giving off the right candle power, it hadn't been used since he had left yesterday. The papers scattered "haphazardly" on his desk still in the same geometric pattern he had left them in. It didn't matter, they were decoys. But, as he stepped into his office, something was different.
Timothy worked very, very hard on very, very important work. It seems as though someone has found out just how important before Timothy could capitalize on it. He kept scanning
There it was, there were several flakes of decoy dust dislodged from the drawer in his file cabinet and a hair glued to the window with spittle the night before was askance.
"Shit." Timothy shut and locked the door and rushed to his chair. "I'll have to go through all the fail safes... this'll take hours." He laid his head slowly on his desk and pulled the trash bag away from the sides of his bin, slowly reached between the bag and bin till he got purchase of his jug of UnPremium-GradeLow-QuickWhiskey. I'll have to cancel my appointments today.
His only appointment that morning was Terry Viscous. A reschedule would not likely cause any harm, Terry had only begun construction of his rib-removal device last week, the necessary ore and compounds couldn't have been procured. The fool wouldn't be capable of assembling and deploying his wife-maker. No one could sue.
Timothy didn't feel spry or enthusiastic anymore, not like he'd felt last week. His sleep must be interrupted, the damn child causing stress or something. Maybe the damn wife demanding, I don't know, whatever "Wife Monthly(tm) - A Modern Nag's Guide to Needling and Subtle Sabotage" tells her that she demands. He can't keep up this pace with work and home life. The girl was going to be his ticket out of here... one massive fraud, or extortion and he'd be set. Living on a vacation island where people torture those poorer than themselves just for fun. But before even looking, Timothy knew that the bandit had looked over his file on her. Knew her insight.
"Nothing's ever easy." Timothy sighed and took a long pull from his whiskey. He pulled the phone off of its cradle and began dialing Terry to tell him that psychotherapy would have to be put off for today but the very best care was going to be administered just as soon as god was willing.
Timothy worked very, very hard on very, very important work. It seems as though someone has found out just how important before Timothy could capitalize on it. He kept scanning
There it was, there were several flakes of decoy dust dislodged from the drawer in his file cabinet and a hair glued to the window with spittle the night before was askance.
"Shit." Timothy shut and locked the door and rushed to his chair. "I'll have to go through all the fail safes... this'll take hours." He laid his head slowly on his desk and pulled the trash bag away from the sides of his bin, slowly reached between the bag and bin till he got purchase of his jug of UnPremium-GradeLow-QuickWhiskey. I'll have to cancel my appointments today.
His only appointment that morning was Terry Viscous. A reschedule would not likely cause any harm, Terry had only begun construction of his rib-removal device last week, the necessary ore and compounds couldn't have been procured. The fool wouldn't be capable of assembling and deploying his wife-maker. No one could sue.
Timothy didn't feel spry or enthusiastic anymore, not like he'd felt last week. His sleep must be interrupted, the damn child causing stress or something. Maybe the damn wife demanding, I don't know, whatever "Wife Monthly(tm) - A Modern Nag's Guide to Needling and Subtle Sabotage" tells her that she demands. He can't keep up this pace with work and home life. The girl was going to be his ticket out of here... one massive fraud, or extortion and he'd be set. Living on a vacation island where people torture those poorer than themselves just for fun. But before even looking, Timothy knew that the bandit had looked over his file on her. Knew her insight.
"Nothing's ever easy." Timothy sighed and took a long pull from his whiskey. He pulled the phone off of its cradle and began dialing Terry to tell him that psychotherapy would have to be put off for today but the very best care was going to be administered just as soon as god was willing.