'Two guys were playing quick draw and one of them accidentally shot the phone.'
I glanced over at the phone. Shot dead.
I reached into the petty cash drawer and took out a wad of money. 'Hey!' I said. 'Listen up.'
No one listened, so I climbed onto the desk and tried again. 'Hey!' I yelled. 'Everyone shut the fuck up and listen to me.'
/> This got their attention.
'I'm very sorry but the appointments got screwed up,' I told them. 'I'm going to reschedule you, and I'm going to give everyone five dollars to go have breakfast while you wait for your appointment time. So I want everyone to line up single file.'
Pandemonium. Everyone wanted to be first. Someone got knocked to the ground, and someone got punched in the face. And there was a lot of cussing and shouting and eye gouging and biting.
I got Connie's gun out of her desk drawer and fired a round into the ceiling. A chunk of plaster fell onto the desktop and plaster dust sifted onto my hair and shoulders.
'If you don't get in line nicely I'm going to shoot you,' I said.
This got them to sullenly line up with just a minimum amount of pushing and shoving. I gave out fifteen-minute appointments to eleven people. They each got five dollars. All but one left.
'You can come out from under the desk now,' I told Melvin. 'What happened to Joyce? I thought Joyce was here.'
'She left. She said she'd be back later this morning. She was real mad. Something about getting sent on a wild goose chase.'
I dragged a folding chair over to the desk and told the first bounty hunter impersonator to sit down. The folding chair was old and scarred and said STIVA FUNERAL HOME on the back. I sat in Connie's chair and called Lula on my cell.
'Where the heck are you?' I asked Lula.
'I had to go shopping. We were a big hit at the old people's home, and we got a new gig out of it. And I need a new outfit.'
'You're supposed to be here helping with the interviews.'
'I figured you didn't need me. They're all losers, anyway.'
I looked at the guy in the folding chair. He was dressed in black leather pants and a black leather vest that showed a lot of chest hair. A roll of fat oozed out from under the vest and spilled over his belt buckle. He'd accessorized with black leather wristbands that were studded with the metal things you see on Rottweiler collars. And he was wearing a blond mullet wig.
'You're right,' I said to Lula. 'Happy shopping.'
'So,' I said to the guy in front of me, 'what makes you qualified to be a bond enforcement agent?'
'I watch all the television shows, and I know I could do this. I don't take shit from anyone, and I got a gun.'
That would be the one that's strapped to your leg?'
'Yeah. And I'm not afraid to use it. I don't take crap from blacks, spics, chinks, pollacks or commies. I swear, I'll kill all the motherfuckers if I have to.'
'Good to know,' I said. 'You can go get breakfast now.'
Connie rolled in while I was interviewing idiot number 5. 'How's it going?' she asked. 'Sony I'm late. I had to bond someone out. Is that a bullet in my phone?'
'We had some problems in the beginning, but it's all straightened out now,' I told her. 'So far I've seen two psychos, one gay hut, a guy who got a boner talking about guns, and this gentleman here who seems to be wearing black leather chaps, cowboy boots, and nothing else.'
Connie looked down at the guy in the chair. 'Nice boots,' she said to him.
When he left we sprayed the chair with Lysol and invited the next candidate to sit.
'I'm here on a mission from God,' he said. 'I'm here to save your immortal souls.'
'I thought you were here for the bond enforcement position,' Connie said.