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Chapter 2 by tommyd79 tommyd79

I need to be a good little go getter...

Help Mr. Flynn quench his thirst.

“Mr. Flynn, Mr. Flynn…”

“Yeah, yeah… what is it, I’m a busy man Jane and I don’t have time to talk to children like you.”

“I’m 18 now Mr. Flynn, I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“Listen kid, time is money, if you want something, talk fast.”

“Well Mr. Flynn…”

“Yo, give it to me.” Mr. Flynn asks his Bluetooth™.

“I was just saying…” I unknowingly begin.

“Who gives a fuck about that pencil dick! We need to settle this case before it goes to court.”

“Huh…?” I ask a little confused.

“Just do it, unless you want your next paycheck to be your last with this company!”

“Mr. Flynn…?”

“Yes Jane, what is it!?” Mr. Flynn demands, pulling an earpiece off.

“I was just wonder…”

“FUCK Jane, for god’s sake… get it out!”

“Lemonade… would you like a glass of lemonade?”

“You came over here to bother me for…,” Mr. Flynn starts, “you know what… get me a glass. I am parched.”

“Sure, Mr. Flynn. Thank you, thank you…”

Mr. Flynn taps his watch impatiently.

“I’m sorry.” I answer running over to and grabbing a cup and pouring lemonade into it.

“Here you go Mr. Flynn!” I say handing the cup to him.

Mr. Flynn grabs the cup in his big hand, downing the cup in seconds.

“How much do I owe you?”

“It’s $5.00 Mr. Flynn.”

“$5.00 dollars? Fuck, maybe I should get in the lemonade business.” Mr. Flynn laughs smugly pulling out his wallet.

“Oh Mr. Flynn, you’re so funny.”

“Yeah… whatever Jane, listen… all I have is a 50 dollar bill. Do you have change?”

“Umm…”

Mr. Flynn looks at me expectantly, “Well?”

“I don’t think so Mr. Flynn.”

“Fuck! I’m not just going to give you a $50. The fucking lemonade wasn’t even that good! I’ll tell you what, I’m awfully fucking stressed right now. If you can find a way to relieve some of this fucking stress, the fifty is yours.”

“REALLY?”

“Sure kiddo…” Mr. Flynn answers with a smirk.

“My daddy says I give really good back massages.” I smile, imitating the gesture.

“Ha. If that is all you’ve got, I’m going inside.”

“What… What about my money?” I whine.

“Kid, you have about ten seconds to get a fucking clue.”

How do I relieve Mr. Flynn's stress?

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