A duck and a thud


“Have you done the job?”

The voice came from the head of the table, where was seated a colossus of a man, huge enough to gulp three men with ease. Greasy hair pulled all the way back, no neck visible, four platinum rings two on each hand which made it obvious that he wasn’t a fan of gold. All things aside he was dressed rather sharply, tie and suit and the lot which made you wonder about the talents of the tailor who managed to fit him in any kind of clothing let alone this impressive attire. He was the depiction of a proper gentleman who has eaten a few gentlemen though but a gentleman nonetheless.

“When I ask a question, I expect an answer,” the voice sounded a bit forceful this time.

“My mama always told me never to talk with an empty stomach, so with all due respect boss shut up!”

The man sitting opposite to the boss replied with a swagger which was befitting of a hired thug speaking way over his head. This man was no gentleman, one look and you could tell that his tailor worked at a place called “Cheap Are Us”. Red and blue stripes shirt open buttoned till the middle, lots of gold chains hanging around his neck which seemed more fake than Christiano Ronaldo’s dive for a penalty, short hair gelled up in spikes, a nasty scar on his right cheek which he probably got when he was trying to steal those fake chains, a gold knock off Rolex watch which was too big for his wrist, as slim as it was humanly possible to be. This man had some nerve telling his boss to shut up with a mischievous smirk.

“Johnny boy, I have screwed your mama a billion times which makes me a prime candidate as your father, so why don’t you listen to your dear papa and tell the boss what he is fucking asking for”.

The man sitting on the right to Johnny was as old as father time himself, but there was not even the slightest of inclination to his age in the voice; it could have been Hercules saying those words and you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. The wrinkles on his face and hands showed the past but his eyes showed the glittering future as clear as daylight. Thin grey hair tied up in a pony-tail, a smart red tie, decent hand watch which fitted his wrist perfectly as if it was designed specifically for him, two earrings each on either side which gave him an antique rock star look. Dressed decently, actually everyone on the table was dressed very decently except Johnny. The silent man sitting opposite to the ancient relic was also dressed sharply with shoes that you could see your face in, short cut hair with an army man’s face to match, no nonsense look, Mr Falcon.

Just as Johnny was going to reply a man came to their table; well in his forty’s the man seemed well acquainted with all four of them.

“Boss your usual, Johnny boy your steak I don’t know where all this food goes in your body, Mr Falcon your lamb with tartare sauce, and for you Mr Siggers we have something very special”.

The host called out to the other waiters, and they came with the surprise of the day. The host skilfully laid it out in front of Mr Siggers,

“Your favourite, duck, just in season, honey spiced with creamy pasta, with a splash of red wine, Happy Birthday Mr Siggers, hope you go on for an eternity”.

“Happy Birthday,” “Happy Birthday,” “Happy Birthday Old man,” everybody at the table congratulated him which brought an awkward smile to his face. He had nearly forgotten about today, “Thank you everyone, I cannot wait to eat this.” The host poured wine for everyone and then left.

The restaurant went silent for a while and all that could be heard was the clattering of forks and knifes and the satisfied munching of four men. The well decorated restaurant had an old medieval theme to it, with everything neatly organized, you could tell it was an establishment to be proud of. It was after hours and the restaurant was empty apart from the four men, closed for people opened for special guests. The lights were dimmed and you could hardly see their faces or the food on the table. Boss doesn’t like brightly lit places, it makes him uncomfortable. The Boss shifted a bit in his chair, cleared his throat, looked straight at Johnny who was busy eating his steak as ungracefully as he could,


“It’s done Boss.”

At that very instant Mr Siggers started becoming a little uncomfortable. He dropped the fork on the floor, started sweating, his palms became numb, he loosened his tie, gasped for breath like a fish out of water and with a jolt his body gave way and he fell face first on his half eaten duck.

The Boss took out a gun from underneath the table and without a moment’s hesitation fired a shot straight through Johnny forehead,

“No one tells me to shut up.”

He turned to Mr Falcon, who was still sitting in his place calmly and asked,

“What happened here, Inspector Falcon?”

Mr Falcon took the gun from the Boss and cleaned it with his handkerchief,

“Well Mr Oakley, the man was old and the autopsy will show no foul play, he died of a heart attack, too rich a food to eat at his age anyways. Johnny here, well he never existed. His body will be buried beneath the grave of Mr Siggers, a place where no one will look and I believe no one looks for a person anyways who is not missed by anyone.”

“Splendid. Shall we finish our dinner then?”


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