| CATCH "You could have all this...and more!" The man said, waving his hand to the horizon outside the window the waiter had seated them at. His long nose quivered as his voice tried to be emotionally expressive. There was a pause. "What about my enemies?" she asked slowly and seductively while looking sideways at his less than flattering profile. "Haha!" he chortled. His laugh came in short interrupted bursts like machine gun fire, each shot shaking his jowels as they fought with his navy blue business suit. "Enemies? After your Government Issue Kung Fu Grip makes the first opponent's inner child wet the bed, you wont need to put up with their nittering nabobs of negativity." She slowly grinned. "Whats the catch?" He seemed pleased and looked right above her head. "No catch..." The smile slowly fell from her face like the wallpaper of the discreet trattoria they were sitting in. He looked back into her eyes. "...unless you consider sellin a soul you never had a catch." He braced himself for rejection. "I don't." she replied, enjoying his hidden sigh of relief. She opened her mouth to say something, squinted and raised a red fingernail, then smiled faintly. "I couldn't help but notice that you looked very familiar." He was fishing through his breifcase like a ferret, finally producing a large stack of papers binded together. He pulled a blue pen from his inside breast pocket and clicked it three times quickly. He handed her the pen and the document, opening to a page near the end. "Now, you'll have to sign here, here and here. And press hard here." He said hurriedly, looking down his own slender finger at the blanks on the page. "I do recognize you..." she said, with a hint of fear in her voice as she signed the first blank. "Impossible, ma'am. Please seal the deal." he growled, staring at the pen in her shaking hand. Her eyes grew wide. "You're Richard Nixon!" "SIGN THE DOCUMENT!" he slammed his fist onto the table. The vase jumped and some water spilled out. "But-but...you're dead...!" her jaw kept stammering open and closed as she watched him hunch over with his elbows on the table to avoid the stares from the rest of the restaraunt. She shook her head. "Are you the devil or something?" He ran his fingers through his hair and scowled at her. "There is no devil!" he hissed. "There is no devil! There is no god! There are no such things as good and bad! There is just me! Just Richard Nixon!" She picked up her purse and put her hand to her forehead, her eyes closed with worry. He leaned over the table and whispered to her. "It doesn't matter what you know by now, it doesn't matter what you don't know by now, all that matters is your signature and it needs to be on this paper three more times or we are all going to hell in a handbasket!" He let out a deep breath and sank back into his chair. A long pause poured from one glass to another and he sipped on it to clear his throat while she discreetly looked around. "Now listen..." He saw it coming. In fact, he'd seen her take it out of her purse. But she'd caught him off guard in the middle of his sentance and the pepper spray hit him right in his face. She ran out of the restaraunt on her high heels while he slid out of his chair sideways screaming and dragging the red and white chekered tablecloth with him. He heard all of the waiters asking him over and over and over again if he was ok as he lay in a fetal position, his double breasted jacket forming a hard cocoon around his neck while his hands covered his face. But all he did was laugh silently to himself because she had run off with his pen. |