We finally reach the destination to meet with the boss. Being left alone with duct tape wrist binders, a black cloth bag over my head, and no coffee has me a bit rattled. Trying hard to pick up any sounds that could give me a hint of my whereabouts proves fruitless. There are no sensory clues as to my location other than the air feels quite cold.

My mind immediately takes me to one of those gangster movies where some of the action takes place in a meat packing plant. Hopefully, my position is not in the center of a vast refrigerator filled with aging beef. If it is, the prognosis for a happy ending to this saga will dim considerably.

The pain of caffeine withdrawal reaches a crescendo, and the certainty that one eye is bleeding brings me to hope an interrogation, once started, will be over soon. A confession for a cup of coffee sounds like a good deal at this moment.

A loud metal-to-metal sound of a bolt being thrown open grabs my attention. Echoing steps approach with the authority of one who knows exactly what they are doing. The steps cease, and the warm, exotic scent of another being washes over me. A fist grabs the top of the bag and rips it off along with a few strands of my hair. (What few are up there)

Blinking away the dark, the image of Jessica Rabbit comes into focus. Her pointer finger is on my chest. “I have two messages for you. The first is from Linda Hill. She wants you to know Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is ‘left alone.’ Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!”

My words leave my mouth too quickly. “And the second?”

Jessica smiles, and it is evident that the second message will be served up in the manner of an offer that can’t be refused.

If you want to see how others handle the ‘left alone’ prompt, visit Linda’s blog. Here is the link. https://lindaghill.com/2023/06/02/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-3-2023/

Left Alone by John W. Howell © 2023

“So you leave us hanging again.”

“Well, I have a word count objective.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t think people need to spend all day reading my posts.”

“Okay, but sometimes we could use a little more.”

“And for that, I’m grateful.”

“What is this obsession with the Jessica Rabbit character?”

“It’s not an obsession. I just think she is a fascinating character.”

“Listen to yourself. Left alone, I think you would write a whole book about her.”

“Nonsense. She wants her statue back, and that’s it.”

“So she’s the boss?”

“Looks that way.”

I’m having a hard time with the segway to the VooDoo Ranger.”

“Yeah, I didn’t give you much of a lead-in. Just text Uber and we’ll call it a day.”

“Oh, I already did that. The car is over there.”

“Hold on. Is that a Yugo?”

“If so, it is a collector’s item.”

“Where do you find these drivers?”

“Well, this one is my Uncle Joe.”

“Figures. Any of your relatives have decent cars?”

“Cousin Ralphie has an Edsel.”

The soft whirr of beans meeting blades is followed by the olfactory stimulation that only coffee can produce before hitting the cup in a consumable form. The steady flow of the intoxicating liquid is finished with a cap of crema that only a machine with instrument DNA can produce. There it is. My route to survival. A sip confirms the road ahead will be paved with good intentions, a big ole smile, and a few sinkholes.

As the chimes awake the heretofore sleeping dogs, my eye goes to the small sign on the counter that reads, PLEASE DO NOT RING THE DOORBELL. Another day of a forgotten install above the doorbell sank the quiet and is rewarded with the sound of a pack of wolves chasing a panicked elk through a forest of aluminum trees. As the Westminster chime drones through its complete cycle, the din of the mayhem reaches the acme of volume somewhere in a decibel range of eardrum bleed.

A handful of treats tossed into the next room brings the sound of silence to the entryway. Moving through the security system bypass allows the front door to be thrown open. Standing there is a mob character in a pin-striped suit right out of central casting. The only detail missing is the violin case hiding the Thomson submachine gun. My hopes have sunk to a new low when he mentions the boss would like a conversation. “Who’s the boss?” comes out of my mouth before a reasonable edit.

“Yeah, I liked dat show. Now quit fooling around and come wit me.”

Not wanting to go with the gentleman, an excuse about the dogs being left alone is made. He seems to understand and hands me an envelope. Inside are two messages. The first is from Linda Hill. It says, Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “sink/sank/sunk.” Use one, use two, or use ’em all and get bonus points. Enjoy! The second is from the boss. It reads, Go with Louie, or he will break both your legs. This would appear to be an offer that cannot be refused. Before leaving with Louie, let me say if you would like to see what other bloggers have done with the prompt, visit Linda’s blog. Here is the link, https://lindaghill.com/2023/05/26/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-may-27-2023/

Sink/Sank/Sunk by John W. Howell © 2023

“I would say this is taking a nasty turn.”

“Well, if you consider the mob, I would agree.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Go with Louie. What else is there to do?”

“What do you suppose the Boss wants?”

“I’m guessing it is connected with the statue.”

“Man. Everything is in this story but the kitchen sink.”

“Stay around a while. It may get added.”

“I think your desire to forget the statue just sank.”

“My desire is sunk, alright. But this is how fiction goes.”

“I keep forgetting this isn’t real.”

“Who says?”

“You just said the word fiction.”

“If that is the case, the VooDoo Ranger is a figment.”

“Okay, hold on there. You said fiction, not me.”

“So you believe?”

“Just texted Uber now.”

“Good man.”