Mean Streets
Oscar took another drag from his cigarette. It had been a long night. He glanced down at the conveyor belt trundling along, coughing up small plumes of smoke. Deep in the subbasement below he could hear the latest protestations of the engine that had driven his production line for too many years without repairs. It had been 20 hours since he had received word from on high- production was to be doubled, the Mouse was in dire need. The Big guy had delivered the message himself, appearing ruffled with bloodshot eyes. The Mouse had a way of doing that to you.
The phone rang and Oscar checked the caller id and grimaced- it was one of his idiot drivers. He checked his watch and grimaced again.
"Bert, you were supposed to check in hours ago!"
"We have a problem. Ernest lost his rubber ducky and is refusing to leave Albuquerque til we find it."
"Albuquerque?! You were supposed to be back in New York City by noon! What am I supposed to do with all this extra product?! Get back here now, i don't care what Ernie says!"
Oscar took a deep breath to calm his nerves. The doctor said to stop being angry. He had to take it easy, something about his blood pressure. But the doc didn't have to answer to the Big guy. Looming over you craning that big neck. Plumage stretched out in anger. He was an imposing figure on normal days, and today was anything but normal. And now Oscar had a surplus of product and nowhere to put it. Big wooden blocks of A's, B's, C's...the alphabet was in high demand- every morning show for kids needed them for props. Schoolhouse Rocks, Dora, that rhyming cat, and of course the Mouse. He promised a huge shipment to Orlando tonight, his delivery men were nowhere in sight, and his factory was swamped with product. He called the inventory guy to keep everything organized.
"386 A's, ah ah ah, 387 A's, 388 A's..."
"Can we speed it up, Count? I don't have all day!!!"
The Count surveyed the warehouse full of wooden blocks and shook his head in disbelief.
"How quickly these unsent letters accumulate!"