Something's Off: Bill's Ordinary Tuesday Takes a Bizarre Turn

 

FICTION (story time)

Title : IN PLAIN SIGHT

It was an ordinary Tuesday, or at least it should have been. Bill, a mild-mannered accountant, had just sat down with his morning coffee, enjoying the quiet hum of his office. But that all changed when he heard a strange noise coming from outside. A faint “shh, shh” sound, like someone was trying to hide behind a bush but was really bad at it.

Curious, Bill got up from his desk and peeked through the blinds. To his surprise, a group of people in full camouflage gear was crouching near his mailbox. They had binoculars, walkie-talkies, and what appeared to be a makeshift flag made out of a pizza box. Bill squinted. Was this some sort of weird guerrilla marketing campaign for a new spy movie?

Before he could decide whether to call the police or just get back to work, the doorbell rang. Bill froze. Who on earth would ring the doorbell at this hour? He crept over to the door, making sure to peek through the peephole first. The camo-clad group had now multiplied. There were at least fifteen of them, and they were all crouching in various odd positions like they were waiting for something.

Bill opened the door a crack, his mind racing through possible scenarios. Maybe this was some sort of performance art? Or an elaborate prank? Perhaps they were recruiting for a secret squirrel society. He cracked the door wider and asked, "Can I help you?"

The group froze, then one of them, a tall man with a suspiciously fake mustache, stood up and shouted, "Ambush! We are conducting a tactical operation to steal your most precious asset!"

Bill blinked. "My… my asset?"

"Yes!" the man declared. "Your coffee! We've tracked it across town. It’s the finest brew we’ve ever sniffed. Hand it over!"

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Bill was so taken aback by the absurdity of the situation that he almost handed over his coffee without thinking. But then, something in his accountant brain clicked. “Wait a minute. You want my coffee? Why?”

The man with the mustache lowered his binoculars dramatically. "Because, good sir, your coffee is the key to unlocking the secret of ultimate productivity. We’ve tried everything—Red Bull, energy shots, kale smoothies—but nothing compares to the divine power of your morning cup."

Bill’s mind raced. He wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or terrified. Then, a thought occurred to him. "What if I don't want to give it up?"

The mustache man paused, clearly stumped. "But... we’ve prepared for everything! We’ve got camouflage, tactical walkie-talkies, and even the pizza-box flag! How can you resist?"

Bill glanced back at his coffee. It was just a regular cup of black coffee, brewed from the office machine that sometimes spit out grounds. He had been drinking it for years and hadn’t thought much about it. But now, in the face of this odd group, it felt like the most precious thing in the world.

"No deal," Bill said firmly, holding the coffee protectively. "If you want it, you’ll have to work for it."

The group exchanged confused looks. "Work for it?" the mustache man asked, clearly baffled.

"Yes," Bill said, growing more confident. "You’re gonna have to take it from me. You know, like an ambush. It's what you do, right?"

At this, the group erupted in a series of enthusiastic cheers and awkward high-fives. "Yes! The ambush! We’re prepared!" one of them shouted, pulling out what appeared to be a Nerf gun.

Bill sighed. "Well, this is going to be a disaster." He backed into his house, clutching his coffee like a lifeline.

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