Thursday, August 23, 2012

B is The Hand of Gordon (Act 13)

13. 
Gordon stood before the gates of Hell. 
Beyond the gates, he could hear the cackling sound of sloth. He was not amused but he needed to be here.
He pushed them open and walked confidently in. 

All eyes raised at the sound of his footsteps. There were many souls here. Frustrated, angry, waiting to be judged but
already knowing the outcome. He walked on, past those who were there, to deal with the supervising foe that
corralled the group in a hot, non-functioning sweat box; the only water came from beads of their own forehead.

“Where’s your boss?” Gordon asked. His eyes piercing, his voice, a commanding whisper.
The supervisor tried desperately to feign a backbone, but with a silly chuckle, ran to get the big boss of these parts.  She came. She gave Gordon the once over. In her hand, the book. On her face, spectacles to watch the spectacle. 
Her round frame belied her age and her maleficent intent.

“I’ve come for it.”
“Of course.”
She opened the book to retrieve it. But NOT before making him sign first.
“You didn’t have to come down, you know. We would’ve called.” She muttered, more to herself.
Gordon’s right eyebrow raised. He put down the pen and looked at her as she quickly handed him the document.
“More than likely, I will see you here again.” Gordon proclaimed.
She turned, not saying a word.
The supervising imp returned with a, “Have a nice day, sir.”
Gordon left. He hated going to the Licensing Office.

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