CHOOSE YOUR OWN MINDFUCK: A Night in Eighth Block Tower (A70)
Bedlam Bible fans! Explore the Eighth Block Tower! Choose your fate! New posts every Tuesday and Friday. September '23 through December '23. Don't succumb to the huummmmmmmmm...
You’ve decided to pass on the offer…
“You must be out of your mind if you think I’m gonna take one of those—” She raises her hand and cuts you off short. Her phone is buzzing.
“Sorry,” she says. “I have to take this.”
You nod and she apologizes one last time before finally answering the call. “Synthe?” she says, pressing the phone to her ear. You try to keep busy so you’re not listening in on her conversation, but there’s simply nothing to do but stand there. Well, you could always go back inside that dark apartment with your friend Mister Melty, but you decide against it for obvious reasons.
“Did you two finally sort out your business?” she continues. You can tell she’s trying to keep the conversation vague, but you’re not sure if it’s for legal reasons or because you’re in the room. Either way, you don’t take offense. You’ve made many sketchy calls in the past, so you understand why vagueness is necessary. She’s just being smart. “Right. So, you’re done spraying, too? Damn, that was quick. You finished before me this time.”
She begins walking towards the stairwell. You’re not sure if you should follow, but after a few steps, she turns and waves, motioning for you to come with her. You jog to catch up.
“I just have to lug the bags downstairs,” she says, then pauses. “No, only two this time. I don’t know. We’ll have to talk about doing this again soon. Two bags will only last a couple weeks. Three at best. This stuff is selling faster than toilet paper on Taco Tuesday!”
Her boots clomp down the stairs and it’s so loud she has to cup her hand over her ear so she can hear the conversation.
“Okay, guess I’ll see you then,” she continues, then stops suddenly and turns toward you. “Actually, I’m gonna need a favor, if that’s okay. A friend is going to help me with the bags downstairs. You think you and Grey could give me a ride back to my place so I don’t have to take the bus?”
You assume the “friend” she’s speaking of is you.
“Please, Synthe? It’ll just be like ten minutes of your time, but it’ll save me over an hour of mine. Please, please, please… please? Don’t make me take the bus.”
After about half a minute of uncomfortable silence, she finally jumps up and down in place. “Yes! Thank you! I really appreciate it. I won’t make you do it every time. I promise. I’m just not feeling it tonight.”
She smiles, then stuffs the phone into her back pocket.
“Where’s your friend?” you ask, already knowing the answer to the question. She smiles and takes a step toward you.
“Come on, it’s just a couple of bags. You get one and I’ll get one. I just need you to carry it down to the front entrance. You’ll be doing me a solid.”
You get the feeling you’re never going to see this woman ever again. Is it really worth the effort to lug a fifty pound bag down several flights of steps for someone who won’t even remember you in a week’s time? Besides, you’d probably end up meeting her friends, Synthe and Grey. Based on the information you just heard, they certainly seem to have some kind of illegal side hustle going, but you’re not sure exactly how they fit into the mix. You don’t want to know either. And you’re damn sure you don’t want to get mixed up in it.
“So, what do you say, friend?” Bee asks. “Are you going to help me out or not?”
— To help her with her bags, click here. (coming soon)
— To walk away without helping, click here.