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6 Feet Under
Down in the Dirt (v136)
(the May 2016 Issue)




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The Important Blues

Priscilla Pilar Estrada

    “Boston police, we got a report of a disturbance on the premise.” They were wearing an important-looking uniform. I looked at the cameras on my monitors and did not see any kind of disturbance. Perhaps, it was an outside disturbance. I pushed my finger on the buzzer, that kind of buzzer that unlocks the side door. I peered at my half eaten sandwich and took another bite of it. The beef engulfed my taste buds. Finally, the two important-looking men approached my desk, wearing that important-looking blue.
    “What kind of disturbance was reported, officers,” I ask.
    “We received a report of suspicious characters right outside the premise, have you seen anything suspicious,” asked the first officer. The first officer had a hair brush-like mustache and piercing blue eyes.
    “Don’t I know you? You look familiar,” said the second officer, his face was clean shaven and looked as if he was born much too young to be a police officer just yet. “I think there’s a warrant out for your arrest,” he continued.
    I was astounded and my mind raced to what I could have done wrong. Did I pay that speeding ticket yet? Was it past due? The officers pulled out a pair of handcuffs and spun me around to face the wall behind my desk. The frigid metal chilled my wrists. I heard the young cop walk over to my co-worker, Bob, who was also working the night shift with me.
    “Sorry sir, this is protocol,” he said while slapping on handcuffs over his wrists.
    As I stared at the wall, the mustached cop said, “Gentlemen, this is a robbery. Hurting you is not our goal, the most pain you will experience is the duct tape being pulled off your face once you are found in the morning.” The imposters proceeded to cover my mouth, eyes, and wrapped the tenacious tape around my head’s parameter.
    I was lead down a few flight of stairs, I could tell it was the museum’s basement and that Bob was no longer with me as two pairs of shoes split from mine and my captor’s. Finally, my captor pushed my body into a chair. He fumbled with my handcuffs and pulled my body towards him. Clanging of metal with metal rang throughout the room, the handcuffs snapped shut once more. I heard his steps distance themselves.
    I sat in silence. I wiggled my lips in attempt to loosen the duct tape to no avail. I raised my eyebrows up and down. No success. I sat in silence. I stood up but that was not going to happen since my body launched itself back down. I felt around. I was handcuffed to something round and cold. It had to be a pipe. I thought of my beef sandwich and longed for it. I cannot believe that I let them in. The beef taste engulfed my memories. A musty odor filled my lungs. I’m going to be poisoned by this smell. There was a noise. My head instinctively turned. The beef disappeared and filled with the dryness of tongue. My fingers licked the cold pipe. Calm down, ya old buffoon. Calm down for your own good. I twiddled my bound thumbs and thought about the wife that I had waiting back home. What would she say when I didn’t show up in the morning? Would she suspect me of infidelity? She wasn’t that type of person. I was far too retched-looking for her to worry over that sort of thing. How can I pass the time faster?
    My eyes were already shut since I took that precaution prior to them duct taping over them. I leaned forward and erased all thoughts from my mind.
    
    “Rick, rick. Wake up.” My head sprang up. It worked. It sounded like my boss.
    “Mmm,” I grunted in excited disbelief. As I listened for more, a scorching hotness traveled across my face. “AHH,” I yelled.
    “Sorry, Rick, just had to rip the band-aid off,” said my boss. “What the hell happened?”
    “We were robbed sir, I’m so sorry. I let them in.”
    I let the important blues in.



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