Day 7: The Oddest Thieves: Part One

                Now Rodger was roughly prodded down a molding staircase that groaned and moaned and popped with every step.  He, with the man poking and prodding him, miraculously reached the bottom without falling through the rotting wood.  The brute of a man pushing Rodger, reached around him and turned a drooping doorknob attached to a sagging door.  The door screeched open and Rodger was thrown inside.  

               Rodger heard the door slam behind him as he landed on his hands and knees.  Bugs skittered across the floor inches from his nose.  He quickly pushed himself to his feet.

              He was now standing in a room lit by a single lightbulb suspended from the ceiling and clothed with grime.  The room was a miniscule square with a desk shoved into one corner and stacks and stacks of books everywhere else.  Rodger coughed as a puff of smoke drifted from the desk towards him.

            “Welcome to my humble stove,” said a rasping voice. 

            The smoke cleared and Rodger was greeted by a grimacing face.  It was round and sweaty with stubble covering his chin and neck.  Tiny eyes watered as they peered at him through round spectacles.  A fat hand wrapped itself around an equally fat cigar.  He wore a bright red dress shirt with a too short black tie covered with mustard stains.

            The man began wheezing and coughing. 

            “Tony,” he yelled (or at least attempted to through his coughing fit).

            “Yes, boss,” said another man popping up from behind an especially large stack of books

            “Why is I surposed to put this awful thing in mys mouth?”

            “It’s intimmerdating, sir."

            “But it feeles like I’m swallowing a fire breathin dragon.”  The man behind the desk threw the cigar at Tony.

            Tony yelped and leapt for it sending books in all directions.

            “Anywars,” said the man behind the desk, “welcomes to my humbler stove.”

            Tony snuffed out the cigar and stood up.

            “It’s not stove, boss.  It’s abode,” said Tony.

            The man behind the desk looked confused.  “I was under the oppression that abode was what yous cooked stuff inside.”

            “It’s impression, and stove is what you cook stuff in.  You’re just getting the two mixded up.”

            “Alright then, exaspertated sigh.”  The man behind the desk sighed.

            “Ya don’t have to say it when you’re gonna sigh, boss,” said Tony.

            “Whatevs, Tony.  Go reads your books while I exterminate this one.”  The man gestured in Roger’s direction.

            Roger had been listening to this conversation and was puzzled at it’s oddity.  At the word “extermination” he finally snapped from his fog.

           “Wait, exterminate!” yelled Roger.

           “Oy,” yelled back the man behind the desk, “keeps it down a wee bit.”

           “Keep it down?!  You’re trying to exterminate me and I don’t even know why!”

           Tony in the corner with a book in his lap piped up.  “I’m sorry, the boss is getting his words mixded up again.  He means interrogate.”

          “Oh,” said Roger relaxing a little.  Only a little.

          “Oh, yeahs.  Sorrys bout that,” said the man behind the desk.  “Nows to infuriating the prisoner.”

          “Interrogating,” said Tony.

          “Silence, Tony,” said the man behind the desk standing up.  The man walked around the desk and stood in front of Roger.

           Confusion showed on Roger’s face.

           “Whats is it?” asked the man.

           “It’s just,” Roger paused for a moment, “you’re wearing sweat pants.”        

           “Sees, Tony,” said man, “I told ya I was supposed to wear them stripey black ones.”

           Tony grunted.  He knew he wouldn’t hear the end of this for weeks.  When his boss was right about something he made sure to remind Tony of it every other minute for way too long.

           “Admit I’m right, Tony.  Admit it.”  The man was now dancing around the room.  “Aaadmit iiiit.”

            “Fine, you were right,” moaned Tony.

            “Whats did ya say?” asked the man cupping his hand around his ear.

            “I said you were right.”

            “LOUDER!”

            “YOU WERE RIGHT!”

            “He admitted it, he did.”

            The man went into a fit of laughter that made him fall to his knees while Tony grumbled in his corner.

            Rodger took this opportunity to look for a place to escape.  Looking at the door behind him he could see shadows moving from the crack beneath the doorway.  He didn’t want to run into the man that had dragged him in here so he looked for another way out.  It was then that he noticed a molding door behind the desk.

            After making sure Tony and his boss were still distracted, Rodger moved quickly but quietly to the door.  He quickly checked to make sure the two men weren’t paying attention he began turning the doorknob.  It squealed as he turned it and the laughter suddenly ceased.  

            Rodger turned the doorknob the rest of the way and swung the door open.  He heard a yell behind as he looked into the room and saw piles upon piles of gold and jewels of immense variety.  Then he felt three-hundred pounds of human tackle him and teeth sink into his calf.

            Rodger screamed and swung hitting the man in the face.  The man’s head snapped back tearing a chunk of flesh from Rodgers leg.  Blood gushed from Rodger’s calf.  He then heard a thump at the door he had been thrown through and the door was kicked from it’s hinges.

            Two men Rodger thought looked familiar, stepped through the doorway, each holding a two-by-four.  The man in the front was muscular and wearing an army green trench coat.  He had a light brown beard with traces of red and a grey fedora sat atop his head.  The man behind him was tall and quite skinny.  He was wearing a cowboy hat and a windbreaker jacket with sleeves noticeably too short for the man’s long arms.  

            Tony lunged at the muscular man who swung his two-by-four to meet with Tony’s jaw.  Tony collapsed instantly upon connection.  Tony’s boss stood up and began yelling at them.

            “Traitors!  You is going to be payin dearly.”

            The fat boss took one step forward and pushed of his desk, flying forward at the odd duo in the doorway.  Rodger, who had been a pitcher in baseball as a child, reached beside himself and picked up a golden bar.  With one smooth motion, he let it fly and the boss went limp in midair as the bar bounced off his head.  

            The muscular man rushed forward and picked Rodger up, easily placing him over his wide shoulders.  A taxi crashed through the wall and the muscular man tossed Rodger inside, following along with his tall friend.  

            Rodger could hear sirens and the taxi sped away.