Non-Career Day

 Here is the writing exercise for this week:

CAREER DAY. You've agreed to give a talk at your child's school for Career Day. Not only do you hate public speaking, you found out yesterday that you've been fired from your job - and you haven't told your kid yet. Write what happens when you go to the school to present. (500 words or less).

How do y'all think I did?

“And now, Mrs. Wilson, Carly’s mom, will share with the class. Welcome, Mrs. Wilson.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Casters,” I said, although I wanted to be anywhere but in Carly’s class that morning. 

When Carly had told me about career day a month ago, I was excited. I wanted to enlighten young minds on the wonders of accounting. I was looking forward to telling them why accounting was important and that it was a fulfilling, well-paying occupation. 

It was still all those things, but, unfortunately, not for me. Not only was I fired yesterday, but I was looking down the barrel of a full-fledged investigation into all my clients’ records. 

If I could just get through career day, I planned to explain what happened to Carly and prepare her for what lay ahead. 

“Hello, class. I’m here today to talk about the profession of accounting. I’ve been an accountant for twenty years and find it very rewarding.”

“Working for the mob usually is,” someone called from the back of the room. 

Before I could gather my wits again, Carly had rounded on the heckler with a vengeance. “You take that back, Mark Johnson,” she ordered, her little fist inches from his nose. 

It was then that I recognized Trent Johnson’s son. Trent was our local sheriff and the one who was looking into my case.

“What’s the matter, Mrs. Goody Two Shoes; you don’t want everyone to know your mommy works for the mob?” Mark teased. 

“Does not!” Carly insisted.

“Does too!”

“Shut up, Mark, or so help me you’ll be sorry.”

“Make me!” Mark challenged.

Mrs. Casters was struggling to keep the two children apart while they continued to argue. I knew I had to put a stop to things before my child was beat to a pulp. I just wasn’t sure how. Carly solved the problem for me, although not in a way I would have preferred. 

“Tell him, Mom,” she screamed across the room. “Tell him you don’t work for the mob.”

I was happy I didn’t have to lie.

“I do not work for the mob,” I informed the class and my teary-eyed daughter. 

“Not anymore,” Mark said, and then at my indrawn breath, he added, “She was fired yesterday.”

Watch Your Back

Wally snatched Bart up by the collar and spit in his face. He then threw him face down in the dirt. 

“Where is it?” Wally demanded.

“You’ll never find it,” Bart replied, and then smiled, which was a mistake. 

When Wally finished working him over, Bart looked like he’d been hit by a truck. He had a broken arm, two black eyes, and he was sure a few ribs were cracked. He also figured he’d piss blood for a while. 

“Where is it?” Wally asked again. Those were the only words he’d spoken, but of course, they were the only ones that mattered.

“I’ll never tell.”

Wally worked Bart over some more and then asked his question again. When Bart still wouldn’t disclose the location of the missing money, Wally shook his head in disgust. He wished the man had a family. It was easy to make family men talk in Wally’s experience. All you had to do was threaten someone they loved. But the boss hired guys without family for that very reason. He didn’t want his competition getting information out of his people. It wasn’t very often that strategy backfired on the boss. 

Wally wanted to kill the bastard, but the boss said they had to recover the money first. Wally wasn’t so sure Bart would ever give it up. The man seemed to think he was saving the world by keeping the money from the organization. Wally heard he said something about not letting any more drugs corrupt the schools in town. Wally wondered if he really thought the money he was hiding was going to stop kids from taking drugs. If he did, they had a bigger problem on their hands because he was totally, bat-shit, crazy.

Wally hated crazy.

“Where is it?” he asked one more time.

Bart still refused to answer and Wally was tired. He kicked Bart in the gut one more time and bent down so he could whisper in Bart’s ear, “Watch your back,” before he left.

Bart lay there for hours before anyone came by. By the time he was taken to the hospital, it was too late.

***

“Where is it?” The man asked Wally.

“I already told you, I don’t know,” Wally replied for the tenth time. 

Wally couldn’t believe the boss actually thought Bart told him where the money was and that he was hiding it. He’d worked for the organization for twenty years, the boss was his second cousin, but evidently, in the organization, blood wasn’t thicker than water. 

He tried to prepare himself for the next kick, but he was too broken to do so. Wally lay there and took the abuse. The man finally stopped kicking and asked where the money was again.

“I don’t know. Bart never told me,” Wally replied. “Tell the boss Bart took it with him to the grave.”

The man pulled out his gun and said, “Looks like he’s not the only one.”