Table in the Corner (587 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by <deisangua.at.hotmail.com> (View user info) at 2004-04-23 16:45:38 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
Four people worked in the front room of the small New England real estate office, and three of them wished they could be somewhere else on that cold Monday morning. Robin was popping headache pills like candy while George went through his lists, calling up everyone he knew for whatever minor business he could think of. Even Caldwell, usually the most resilient of the bunch, had spent an extraordinary amount of time that day visiting the copier down the hall. But lunch could not come soon enough for any of them, for Mary Mack was having another bad day.
Strangers and mere associates thought Mary was a sweet and charming woman filled with smiles and soft touches, but those who worked with her knew better. Though far from a monster, the diminutive blonde was well on her way to becoming a slavering spinster. She was meticulous, she was demanding, and she was almost constantly dissatisfied with something. Her job as an agent and her prized place as the president of her local homeowner's association were the only two things that mattered in her life, and if either one was less than perfect she would saturate the building with her bitter tirades.
Today, it had started the moment she walked through the door. She began with a rant about a group of teenagers from the high school across the road, one of the many banes of her existence.
"God, I could barely park out there! Those idiot kids are in the driveway again, smoking! Can't smoke on school grounds so they just cross the road! I told that one little bastard that if he had half the brains he thought he did he would jump in front of a truck..."
And so it began. Mary's co-workers knew right away it was going to be a day full of torment, but there was little they could do but brace themselves and hope it would be over with quickly.
Fate was a mean devil, though. Mary pressed on as she set up her desk. She assaulted ten topics in as many minutes, from the trash on the streets to bad food to rising gasoline prices. As it became more and more obvious that she was not going to slow down, her three co-workers began giving one another desperate glances.
"...and his little brats had clogged the drain! Oh, and this morning I noticed dents on my grandfather's furniture! I know they haven't been long because I wipe it down every Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday. And there was dirt on the floor in the kitchen, near where I put my sandals. But it was those dents that really got to me, because it looks like I was - like gouges, you know - like I pressed too hard to write? I think I was doing the bills there yesterday or the day before, but I don't remember which. I swear I don't know where my head is, do you?"
Robin paled when she realized Mary's blue eyes had locked on her. She fumbled for an appropriate answer, but all she managed was a weak smile.
"Oh, Robin, stop being such a wimp. It's not like I meant for you to answer that, you know. I just mean that I've been so distracted lately. Not enough sleep. You know whose fault that is? That stupid little man that just bought the house two doors down has been reworking the roof. He started at eight in the morning this weekend and woke up the whole neighborhood. I went down to talk to him, and you know how nice I am usually, but - God! - these people! Who the hell is out hammering at dawn in a neighborhood where people are trying to sleep? And of course, he just shrugged me off. I bet you he wouldn't have if I had a pair of balls."
Robin choked on her coffee, and Mary smirked in her direction. George ducked his head with a blush and grabbed for his Rolodex as Caldwell made his first trip towards the copier. Mary huffed and started to let loose a verbal barrage of venom about her latest clients. Meanwhile, Advil, Verizon, and Xerox continued proving their value to a few more customers.
When noon finally arrived everyone but Mary bolted for the door. She glared at their collective backs, then calmly collected her leather purse and strolled out to her car. It had been a nice morning for her. She found the reactions she had gotten from the others to be especially amusing, for very few people understood how to treat a strong woman. She hummed to herself as she started her car and began to drive home, thoroughly enjoying the music on the radio the whole way.
Her good mood ended the moment she got to her front door.
"Oh, now what?" she grumbled aloud when she saw the envelope sticking haphazardly out from her door frame. "I swear, this better not be those Chinese pizza people again. I will go down there and rip them a new one."
She glanced around and was mildly annoyed to find that no one was around to hear her. With a snarl, she snatched the envelope from its place, unlocked her door, and marched inside.
After her keys and purse had hit the counter she ripped open the envelope. Inside was a folded letter, handwritten in dark blue ink.
'MM,' it began, 'You really should sop being so rude to people.'
There was more, but Mary stopped there, snorting irritably as she rolled her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered with aggravation.
"Why am I always the victim of these inconsiderate, immature bastards," she moaned to herself. She walked over to her favorite chair, throwing her arms up and down as she went. "They can't even spell. They can't fucking spell. It's stop, not sop, you idiot!"
She threw herself down into her chair and crossed her legs before continuing to read.
'I have been wtching you for some time, and I thought you could use a reminder that you never know how someody is going to take the things you say. So I have decided to ask you to start being less of a bitch.'
Mary laughed once, somewhat forcefully, and glanced at the bottom of the letter. There was no signature. Of course there would not be. The cowards would not dare say this to her face.
The next line read:
'You probaby are not taking this to heart...'
"No," she shouted at the letter with a grin, "I'm PROBABY not!"
'...but you should. You annoy me, and that is important because I know who you are and what kind of things you do. You, on the other hand, would nevr stop to consider the nature of the person you are dealing with. They could be someone you would like. They could be someone that could help you in the future. Or, like me, they could be what psychologists would call a definitive psychopath."
Mary stopped smiling.
'I obvously have your address, and your phone number. I know you work at the real estate office across from T.T.H.S. On Sundays you go to the homeowners' meeting, where you are presidet. There is a monthly meeting every third Monday as well, and both sart at 7:00 PM. You get gas at the station two blocks sout, unless the price is over $1.75 a gallon, in which case you will go to the Arab's market on Grande Street because it is usually cheapr there. On the 1st and 15th of every month, or the Monday thereafter, you go to cash your paychek during lunch, and after work you go to the supermarket on Shale Road. You watch an extrardinary amount of television, mostly Channel Five and the Lifetime channel. You have a glass of Barolo Red evey evening at nine, just before you go to bed at 9:30. You have no real hobbies, no pets, no boyfriend, no husbad. That is the sum of your life.'
Mary stopped reading and tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. An intense anger swept through her. This was a violation beyond forgiveness. She was also afraid, but she could not bring herself to let it show, even to herself. She was too strong to be affected by this stupidity, she reminded herself. She was tough, and so she would not let this person win.
She took a deep breath and finished reading the letter.
'I do not wish to threatn you, but I have grown tired of your incessant sniping and would like you to desist. Though you are little more than an irritating skin rash to me, if you cannot bear to lower your bloated ego to a more courteous level I will take care of the itch as I see fit. You might even consider going to the authoities and begging them to protect you. If you do, please show them this letter. They are likely to get the message, even if you do not.'
It ended there.
Mary stayed perfectly still for a long time, her vision slowly losing its focus as a surge of thoughts spun through her mind. She knew she was smart. She could figure out who wrote this, though it would be pointless to try and remember who she might have insulted. People in general were too weak and sensitive, and she could hardly blame herself for that.
At last, she got to her feet and walked over to the table in the corner where she did all of her business. Her hand drifted over the handle of the black telephone there, but only for a second. The thought of calling the police like a frightened child made her sick. She yanked her hand back as though she had touched hot metal, pulled out the high-backed table chair, and settled down with the letter in front of her. It lay there like a dead thing, bathed in the blue light that poured in through the large window that looked out across her small property.
Mary let her eyes skitter back and forth despite herself, searching the yard outside. No one was out there, no one was watching her, and she felt instantly embarrassed for checking. The letter had to be a prank, she thought. Someone had simply meant for her to get scared, and the clues to who that extremely stupid person was had to be right in front of her.
Her years of noticing small home and property flaws had sharpened her investigative skills, and her experience in making a sale had given her an edge in understanding people. She called upon these talents as she began a literary assessment of the writing in front of her.
Calm, legible handwriting implied that the person had not written it in any hurry. The sharp corners and dark, thick strokes served as evidence that a man had written it, although she had already assumed that was the case. The only thing that gave her pause was the mix of fair grammar with apparently poor spelling. It struck her as being very odd, especially because a few of the chopped words had been spelled correctly elsewhere in the letter.
Her eyes drifted down to the very last line.
They are likely to get the message, even if you do not.
She grabbed a blank piece of paper and pencil and quickly listed the misspelled words.
Stop
Watching
Somebody
Probably
Never
Obviously
President
Start
South
Cheaper
Paycheck
Extraordinary
Every
Husband
Threaten
Authorities
She stared at the list for a minute, then compared it to the letter. There was only one letter missing from each word. She checked them off slowly, writing the missing letter next to the word on her scratch sheet. When she was done, the message was clear.
"Table in the corner," she murmured softly.
Numbly, Mary pushed the two pages apart from one another so that she could stare down at the surface of the table in front of her. She remembered how bitter she had been that very morning, after she had found the indentations on the wooden surface. Like she had pressed too hard when writing, she remembered telling the others in her office. But she should have realized that she would never be that careless with any of her grandfather's heirloom pieces of furniture.
Mary hesitantly covered the marks again with her scratch paper. Taking the pencil, she began rubbing the side of the graphite tip lightly over the surface. The letters revealed themselves easily.
'MM, you really should sop being so rude to people. I have been wtching you for some time...'
*****
Though no one ever found out why Mary Mack started being a nicer person that day, everyone was grateful. It was a good change.
User Reviews
Submitted by ohlookasquirrel (user info) at 2004-05-24 11:45:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
All of these madness entries are great, and they shouldn't be
pulling down users' ratings just because they've been ignored and haven't
been rated, so I'm making this my mission.