Old Prompt

John's popsicle slowly was dripping onto the sidewalk. Drip, drip, drip. Life was tough. John stared at the popsicle. each time it dripped, in his head he said. ten cents gone. ten cents gone. ten cents gone.

The economy was not doing well for anyone. The poor gone poorer and the rich gone richer. Well, thats not entirely true. See, John used to be rich. Not rich rich, but very wealthy.

His parents were both millionares, which left him and his sister with there hard earned money. John's sister, Cassie, was two years younger than John. Yet Cassie had much, much more money than John. Well, that made sense, her being a world famous artist. She had well over 7 million dollors more than him.

John? John was 37 years old and has been working as a waiter in the same resturant for over 20 years. In the year 2131, even GETTING a job was amazing. As I said, the economy wasn't doing any better than a garbage can in a garbage truck.

Anyway, back to the story. John was watching his popsicle drip onto the sidewalk. It was 6:00. His shift started in half an hour. Throwing the last bit of popsicle in the trash, John got up the the bench and took a small walk around the park he was in. Then he made his way to the resturant, Ocean Diner. He was already in his store uniform, so therefore he did get a couple strange looks from other walking on the street.

When John entered the diner, and wonderful smell of coffee and pancakes drifted in his nose. Breathing deeply, John made his way to the back. In the kitchen, there was what he called the drop-off zone. A counter where the chiefs put the food, and I pick it up. under the plates is a small wade of paper, saying the table number and the dish, like Cinnamon Waffles, Table #19.

John picked up the the dish he saw and zipped to the tables. John was so good at his job, he didn't even have to read the table numbers. He just knew who ordered what. The bell rang, and someone entered the building. without even looking, John said

"Good morning Mrs. Gibbs." Mrs. Gibbs took her seat and said

"Yes, yes, i do suppose it is. Now can I-"

"I got it Mrs. Gibbs. Eggs, scrambled, with extra pepper and a english tea?" asked, John, serving the dish he was holding to another customer. Mrs. Gibbs, nodded, and leaned back to check her phone. On his way to the kitchen, he nodded to a big man smoking.

"Would you need a refill on your coffee Mr. Calloway?" The man glanced down at his mug and said "Indeed I do John." He slapped 4 bucks down on the table.

"That's for you. now go refill it and you'll get yourself a ten." John took the mug back to the kitchen and smiled. everyone knew Mr. Calloway was the richest man in town, and he liked to prove it. Mr. Calloway was John's favorite customer.

John filled the Mr. Calloway's mug, severed all the other dish's, filled Mr. Calloways mug AGAIN, then made his way to the staff room for a small rest. Munching on a banana, John sits in a small chair. When he finishs, he gets up, serves some dishs, and again fills up Mr. Calloways coffee.

Life for John really can't get any better. he loves what he does, he has a steady income (Mr. Calloway is really to thank for that.) and John was saving up to marry his girlfriend. Life was good.

Or so he thought.

Walking home from work, you spot a couple men in suits looking at you funny. Your in such a great mood you don't even notice. When your only two blocks away from your house, it happens.

"Come with us," two burly men in grey suits say, grabbing you by the arm and handcuffing you. "You know what you did." But you had no idea.

"P-Please," John stuttered. "I-I didn't do anything wrong." One of the men start pushing you to a black van. The one with a black eye turns to John and said

"The author of this story did. He used us, a old prompt in this new one." John was very confused.

"When?" He asks, as the fatter of the two men opens the van door. The other man, with the black eye, scratchs his chin and says.

"Hmm. three, maybe four paragraph." John sighs. They must be crazy, he thought. maybe kidnappers.

"We aren't crazy or kidnappers. But what that author did was illegal, so therefore we are ruining this story. I almost feel bad. He had a bunch of good ideas."

Your shoved into the van, still handcuffed, and the van takes off.

"Where are you taking me?" John asks, who was now sure they were kidnappers.

The one with the black eye turns back at you and smiles, and he can't help but notice he's missing some teeth.

"We don't know yet. Maybe the desert, maybe the arctic. As long as we ruin this story, we'll be happy." John turns to the van back doors and easily kicks them open. he feel the van speed up beneath your feet.

"Go on," Says the man, now grinning harder than ever. "Jump."

John jumps. The kidnappers, or whoever they were, stopped right after he jump. a sharp pain in his side screamed as John got up. He could feel the left side of his face bleeding and he maybe had a broken ankle. But John just ran. He ran and ran and ran and ran until he got all the way to his house, then shut himself in his bedroom for two hours.

After that, John never saw the two men in grey suits again. He could just hope and pray that his "Author" or whomever this person was would never use an old prompt again.