It was another miserable Monday at the Current Collections Office.
Cathy Millstein typed one collection notice after another on her computer. She smelled the bad coffee breath of her boss Mr. Parks before she actually felt his slimy hands on her shoulders.
“Good Lord girl, don’t you know about cut-and-paste? CTRL+X and CTRL+V? One collection notice is just like the other. Typing each by hand will take a millennium!”
Life had been dreary at the Current Collections Office previously, but after the hiring of Mr. Parks it had been down right unbearable.
After what seemed like an eternity, the clock struck 5 p.m. and the work day was over. Cathy’s coworker Maureen sprang out of her chair before Cathy could move and gathered up her coat. “See you on Wednesday!” Maureen chimed out happily.
“You mean Tuesday. Today is only Monday,” Cathy replied.
“Nope, I mean Wednesday! I have off tomorrow. Have a great evening!”
Maureen rushed out of the office and let the door slam shut.
After Maureen’s flurried departure, Cathy felt more alone than ever in the dreary office. Then she felt a spark of inspiration come over here, and she smiled deviously. Maureen’s day off might just be the opportunity she needed.
At exactly 9:15 a.m. Monday morning, Mr. Parks made his way through the offices of Current Collections towards the secretary’s pool. He wore shoes with extra heavy soles to cause intimidation as he walked, and his footsteps echoed loudly through the hallway as he made his approach.
To his surprise, both desks were empty. Furiously, he stomped into the office manager’s office.
“Lucille, could you please tell me why neither of our secretaries are at work?” Lucille eyed him suspiciously from over her glasses which had a tendency to slip down her nose.
“Why Mr. Parks, you yourself approved Maureen’s leave for today!”
“What about Cathy?” he retorted.
“Miss Millstein called in sick earlier this morning,” Lucille replied calmly. “I sent you an email about it.”
Tiny veins began to surface on Mr. Parks’ broad forehead. “This is outrageous! We can’t afford an entire day without any collection letters being typed!” he spat out. “Please give me Cathy’s street address!”
“Mr. Parks, the poor girl is sick!”
“We’ll see about that! The address, please.”
Lucille flipped through the Rolodex and withdrew Cathy’s address card. Without even a thank you, Mr. Parks snatched the card and stormed out of the office.
Mr. Parks parked on the street in front of Cathy’s apartment building. It was a modest operation, with several studio apartments on the ground floor and several larger, one-bedroom units on the second floor. He was surprised to see that Cathy could afford one of the larger units upstairs, and made a mental note to review her salary once he got back to the office.
He charged up the steps in his thick soled shoes intentionally making a ruckus as he stomped. He was surprised when the door to Cathy’s apartment opened with just a slight nudge with no sign of the locks being engaged. “Cathy!” he called. “Cathy, damn it, I know you are in here!”
“I’m right behind you,” Cathy whispered into his ear before shoving a chloroform-soaked rag over his nose and mouth.
Mr. Parks groggily came to. He was seated, and testing his arms and legs, found himself securely restrained. A rag had been stuffed into this mouth, not the same chloroform-soaked one as before, but a garden variety musty old rag. He surveyed his surroundings. The setup in the small apartment was not unlike that of a tailor’s, with a sewing desk and a mannequin beside it. Sneaky girl has been moonlighting on the side! he thought angrily.
Or…had she?
There were things that were just wrong. The smell for one thing. There was an order of mold and rot that permeated the place where he had expected the fresh scent of clean linens.
He spied Cathy working busily away on a mannequin in a corner, but that seemed somehow wrong too. One shoulder of the mannequin seemed muscular and rugged, while the other shoulder looked frail and bird-like. Cathy’s attention seemed to be focused around the cuff of the mannequin’s shirt, but the arms were out of proportion as well, with the right arm hanging down several inches longer than the left. Must be the after effects of being drugged, he thought.
But then he heard the jangling of metal just beyond where Cathy was working so intently. The light had been left on in a small storage room, and from there every manner of limb and appendage could be found hanging on hooks and hangers.
Mr. Parks began to panic.
He tried to scream out, but only muffled grunts came out past the rag. With all of his strength he attempted to break his bonds, causing the chair to thump loudly against the floor, but his restraints never gave way.
Cathy whirled around.
“Oh good! You’re awake. To be honest, I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t dropped by. In a way, I owe it all to you. I’ve never quite had the right word for my peculiar art, and then you provided it—snippets! I absolutely love it. And the rest–CTRL+X, CTRL+V! I like it so much I made a jingle out of it. CTRL+X, CTRL+V, that’s what makes me happy!”. She began to giggle madly.
My God, Mr. Parks thought, the poor girl has lost her mind! He renewed his struggles to break free.
“Now, now, don’t get all upset. You get the greatest honor of all, sort of the star on the Christmas tree if you will. You see I had most of it–torso, arms, legs–you name it. But I didn’t have the head!”
Cathy reached down by an old recliner, withdrawing a long metal object that was leaning against it. There was a raspy sound as it pulled against the fabric.”Cut and paste, cut and paste, as you say!”
The last thing Mr. Parks saw was the long pair of gardening shears.
SNIPPET!
INSTANT NOODLES 