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Head of The Table Think fast
Faded blue painted walls tattered in random patches to make it all spotted white, four florescent tubes hang, two dangling by one electric cord instead of two some feet from each of the two cells, but thank goodness they weren’t working why would they the guards wouldn’t waste their dime on some busty tubes screw those inmates they took themselves into those cells so let them drown in the oblique pitch darkness that was kept alive by their heavy breathing, singing of crickets and the moonlight that scattered down via a small transparent cover on the roof. Each cell was double the size of the normal cell a normal suspect was put in, the bars were aluminum plated with steel cored at the center of each bar so if one thinks of cutting those bars they have to cut the 5 aluminium-lead alloy coating then cut through the steel and still by then he will still be trapped. You maybe out of the cell but you are still locked in the badgers room, the room itself was military designed, with only on
Head of The Table See you in court
Frustrated, disappointment drew his face, no one talked to him, not the guards not his own men no one did, if anyone had an issue they were told to come back later, or that he was sick, some who kept persisting were told the matter as it is, the inspector isn’t in a mood to talk at the moment so if you are hungry for insults and emotional torture be my guest his office is straight ahead. This turned many, they all sighed out disappointed, even the law gets angry they wondered as they ought to take their problem elsewhere or bury it till he was in a welcoming talkative mood. In the truck they hiked a ride in, he bit his lower lip, gazed on the jungle, the leaves of the dense canopy, the sweet sound of nature, soothed him from erupting his anger on the slightest issue, but when he step foot in the noisy busy city, he clicked in disappointment and cursed under his breath as he insulted the air for being filled with industrial fumes as he coughed slightly, he cursed the cars for having n
Head of The Table Surgery success
The engines cooled as the wheels made landing a frictional screech afterwards, most preferred their navy suits though they differed in their shirts cause some wore powder blue some white, with black carrier bags strapped to their backs, finally they sighed as they gave a heavy breath of the Madagascar air, nothing like polluted free air they chuckled. They were to have a surgery elsewhere in Canada but when a client offered a much more whooping wholesome of money, the plane changed coordinates and an hour later, they stared out the dense jungle of Madagascar, monkey’s swinging, birds singing, mother nature is so wondrous, they sighed as they drove for their destined hospital. Dressed in blinding white overalls with swinging nametags around their necks like loose dogs with their leash, doctors welcomed the foreign surgeons with ginger cookies and some home made tea, gladly the surgeons munched greedily this small but mouth watery snack, they were used to supermarket food, but this was
Head of The Table Drunken apology
Tension, fear, more fear, he wasn’t settled it’s been two hours, should he call the cops? No cause they will make things much worse, but what should I do, he pondered, throwing blind fists on to the echoed walls, groaning aimlessly, kneeling and dusting his recently bought pants, he did what he could to think of something. Ten minutes after the surgery he was driving tensed because he hoped for the worst from that surgery, they cut a vein by mistake, the anesthesia machine goes off, he daunted all possible results that just maybe Mila will not make it out alive. The haunting images of Mila on his death bed his gut ripped open, tissues exposed, a faint nauseating smell from his decomposing body, flies circling, patches of skin fading, he felt nausea from his throat, he swallowed the puke back in, drive, drive, he stepped on the gas he zoomed like a maniac he just became. Despite being the optimistic guy, the one who thought the positive even if they were out weighed by the negatives,
Head of The Table Pep talk
Brown, or is it yellow, whatever the color it contained it’s more clear water like liquor, firmly clutched on the neck, despite being out cold the grip was firm, finger by finger till it was loose, the cranky scent from the beer bottle made doctors eyes watery, this was some beer Brian got hands on. Well now what about the holder of the Bees beer bottle, body collapsed, left hand laid on by his chest, right hand outstretched, mouth wide open opening the cave of locked up morning breath and bees beer, drool patched on his cheek, eyes shut, snoring was he, no he was breathing heavily but weirdly when shook, when shrugged violently whereas his ear drums are bust by yells to wake him up, he still was asleep guess his one of those learned fellows call heavy sleepers. So the only way he was to get up was he be left wear out his sleep, till then he was lay on the waiting seats at the far corner where his stench would be aired out, at least those in the ward will be at least peaceful. His
Head of The Table Bygones be bygones
Sip, another sip…wait when was my coffee over, it took him some time to realize his coffee cup was dry and for the last five minutes he was sipping air, but it was expected the man was in deep thought and same time shocked and confused, he just came to his senses that he actually went on his knees and apologized, his ego, his pride, was it numbed by the alcohol and caged silently by the liquor that he was shameful enough to do such a thing. He bit his lower lip, hands clenched together, elbows leaning on his knee joints, his head balanced by his fists, should I go there and beat them up, should I take back my apology, should I… all should I thoughts raced in. An apology wasn’t a physical object you can snatch back and beat the one you gave, it was emotional and you can’t take away emotions, so Brian the tyrant, was confused, tensed anxious, his ankles were shaking making a consecutive knock of three intervals per second. Just a stone throw away, he actually had visual of it, that is
Head of The Table Plan B
Peace…no that’s too optimistic cause there was still doubt by each one, so truce call it…maybe that’s the word for it truce because yes the cabinet members were locking horns with their temporary boss, and yes they had no trust in him, but for the sake of the business or at least for Ben’s sake, they just have to play by the book, so yes truce it is. A week later the knights were discharged and it took them long enough because in that one week hell was burning up, worse was if any of them show a flick of odd health issues it’s back to the ward. In the board room or that’s what they called it though it wasn’t structured as one, a rosewood customized table was at the center, at the far walls, piles of broken woodwork and pointy dangerous steel bars, all dusty and dark where mice sheltered themselves and other pestering miscreants seek cover, open arm sized windows let in fresh air accompanied with the sun’s warming heat, despite the already lightened room by the sun’s rays, a dangling
Head of The Table Let the man drink
Rusty metal handle, large hallow cylindrical encase, filled with today’s special or everyday special Blue cake liquor on the house. One mug, another and another, he gulped one after the other groaning as it gave a burning sensation down his throat, grinding his teeth as he forced air through his clamped creamy jaws, touchdown the landing was heavy as the liquor settled with the rest devoured ingredients inside his filling belly. He hadn’t foreseen this bullshit, his day started off well, the normal routine bouncing bossing around the station, listening to cry’s of widows, whacking some scumbags caught in last night’s bar fight down the alley, it was just going well he gladdened his self. Ring! Amidst his physical therapy with some law breakers in the good cell, an amateur teen had poured liquor on the deejay’s laptop and vandalized his mixer, well he was getting some beat-up but at least he wasn’t paying the fine but his body was getting it hard. Saved by the ring, bloody everywhere,