Monday, July 31, 2006
New Beginning 24
I hate working with people.
Let me qualify that: I hate working with people when I have to read minds. And it's not some stupid party trick, because I have to go into a trance before I can do that. If there's an easier way, my father sure as hell never told me.
“Mickey,” he told me when I was twelve, “reading other people's thoughts is called an 'Ability.' It's not magic, like some simpletons might think.”
Good ol' Mickey Swoboda, Simpleton. Sighing, I trudged down Northampton Street, brushing a few crumbs of snow off the front of my coat. I shoved those thoughts into some deep, unused pocket of my brain. My boss was my concern tonight. I didn't want her to find out on this or any other night how I acquired stories for her paper, The Daily Slab.
So, when I ran into her coming out of the Liquor Barn, I kept my face expressionless despite the heat radiating from her thoughts.
"Hey Mickey, you freakin' simpleton!" she yelled.
"How is a swack job like you comin' up with these stories? Huh? You'd have to be a freakin' mind reader to know this stuff!"
She leered at me and I read her mind. No story there, but a lurid, repugnant picture.
Uh-oh, I thought. The "Ability" is out of the bag now.
Opening: Nancy.....Continuation: Kate Thornton