Work To Be Done

He opened the door quietly, and shut it quickly behind him. He turned on the light in his living room, and walked across to the fridge. Damn it, just one beer. He’d need to go to the store at some point. But not right now. He had more important things to do.

He walked over to the door next to his bedroom, and took down the apron hanging from the peg there. He took his shirt and pants off, and donned the apron over his boxers. Next, on went his gloves. He had always been a neat freak, and there was no way he was handling that stuff without some covering.

He walked down the stairs to the basement, and clicked on the light. There, spread before him, was the (almost) final result of months and months of hard work. To the average person, it looked like a whole lot of dirt spread out on clean white sheets. But to him, it was more.

SO much more.

He fished the remote out of the pocket of his apron, and clicked play. Soothing strains of Louis Armstrong wafted over the basement, calming him down and making him smile. Not that he needed more reasons to smile today.

He walked over to the corner and picked up the small stack of boxes that he had painstakingly collected over the last month. They were the key to the final stage of his plan. A few of them were marked and branded, but one contained two hundred small cloth bags. He sat down next to the sheets of supposed dirt, and began to put small amounts of it into each bag.

He had practiced this hundreds of times over the last few months. But now that he was so close, he was getting more and more excited. So much so that his hands were shaking a little, making it difficult for him to work his heat sealing machine. And when the bags were so small, you had to be delicate. Couldn’t risk the entire thing on someone noticing a bad sealing job, could he?

He sat there, through the night, working his fingers to the bone. It didn’t matter that he was exhausted, it didn’t matter that he could barely keep his eyes open. Not even the pain in his hands could deter him.

He was so close, and nothing was going to stop him.

He arrived at work the next day, his prized cargo in tow. He walked over to the pantry, full of people. Just as he had expected. Not that it mattered, they had stared him into oblivion anyway. They wouldn’t notice even if he put a bullhorn to his lips and proclaimed his message. He reached into his bag slowly.

And took out four boxes of green tea. He placed them slowly on the pantry counter, and backed away.

He hung around, though. He knew what was coming.

The Great Lord had told me. He had appeared to him in a dream, telling him exactly what he needed to do. How he had to complete a very special job for Him. He told him that the tea was the best way. No one would even notice the tiny flecks of white within the green leaves. Not until it was too late, anyway.

He watched as an office boy walked over to the boxes and picked up all four. It was Tuesday, and a lot of green tea had to be prepared.

He smiled.


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