This is an entry for @mariannewest's weekend freewrite, where you are given 3 different prompts to weave into one story. If you've never tried this, it's a whole lot of fun. Here's the link to the 1st part of the instructions.
The 3 prompts are noted in the story by bold italics.
Not My Day
Yesterday was Sunday. I should have been Tuesday but it got messed up. Now the whole rotation was out of whack. I didn’t know why they had called me out on a Monday, but it was a nightmare. The address they sent me to was a boarded up abandoned house in the projects. Normally I wouldn’t go anywhere near a place like this, but the address on my phone checked out with the building in front of me.
Around the corner came a neatly dressed gentleman walking a miniature schnauzer and they passed right by me without a glance. He looked so out of place I was sure he had been my contact. Ok, so who was I supposed to be meeting? My skin was crawling with the feeling of being watched. One of the boards on the front stoop moved to the side and a young man stepped out. First thing I noticed was that he was looking straight at me and he was holding a gun. My eyes widened and I took a couple of steps backward towards the street. This was supposed to be a pick up, and it wasn’t even my day, how do I get into these things?
“Are you Callie?” asked the dude with gun.
I got down on one knee. I was going to pop the question right then, but before i could get out the prearranged courier sequence he motioned me back to my feet and said, “Hey, don’t freak out, I’m not gonna hurt you. You can’t be too careful in this neighborhood.”
I got up and looked around nervously. “Ok, what do you have for me? I’d really like to get out of here,” I said imploringly. He looked back at the abandoned house, “You have to come back in here with me, there’s some graffiti on the wall. You’re supposed to take a picture of it and call the number that’s scrawled beneath it.”
“Seriously, you want me to go in there?? I’m not on good terms with dark, smelly, abandoned houses, I think this job was meant for someone else. My day is Tuesday!” I whined at him. But I could tell by the glint in his eye that my plea was falling on deaf ears.
I listened in my mind to the way the guitar sounded playing the funeral march. That was my own mental warning sign when my instincts were telling me that things were about to go south in a big way. He raised the gun and pointed it at me, then motioned to the gaping hole where once had been a window. “Don’t think you have much a choice, sweetheart,” he drawled and stood aside.
I walked slowly up to the ominous hole and bent down to peer inside. It was pitch black in there. Reluctantly I stepped one foot inside and prepared to lower my body through the gap. Gun dude walked up behind me and gave me a not so friendly shove of encouragement. When I was standing inside I snapped on the flashlight of my phone and darted it around the room. It smelled and looked as bad as I feared. I heard murmurings coming from the next room and the gun at my back prodded me in that direction.
The scene in that room caused my bladder to let go, and my last thought before the gun crashed into the side of my head was “But I should have been Tuesday!”
