The girls in the sales office had had enough. Something drastic must be done and it had to be done quickly.
Jane was first to notice there was a pattern. ‘It’s every day, and it’s always mine.’ It sickened her that a colleague was doing this. She was one of the lowest paid on the staff and she couldn’t afford to have her lunch stolen.
The staff had a small communal fridge. There was also a staff canteen, but Jane had two small kids and no man at home so paying for a midday meal was not on the menu. If someone stole her sandwich, she would have to go hungry. It was that simple.
Kathy, an earthy girl who wouldn’t put up with nonsense, had the solution. ‘He won’t come back for more after this.’ They assumed the thief was a man, no girl would do such a thing. ‘And we can see who he is and give him a good kicking,’ she added without a trace of humour.
Jane put two fingers down her own throat to show how gross the idea was.
‘Leave it to me,’ Kathy took Jane’s sandwich and left the office. ‘If I’m missed tell them I’ve had a call of nature,’ she grinned.
That lunchtime the office watched in awe as sales supervisor Bill Robinson retched into a wastebin. Bits of half-chewed sandwich and saliva dribbled down his chin.
‘Oh dear,’ Kathy offered mock sympathy. ‘Now, that’s what I call a shit sandwich.’
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 