The Nightmare of Orpheus

*TW: Light cursing and mention of killing.

Seafood. Seafood. Seafood. Why is that the only thing they serve here? Orpheus pondered to himself, clasping the bumpy menu as his fingers traced the engraved letters on the outside of the menu, “THE ATLANTIC BLUEFIN.” Orpheus grazed the restaurant disingenuously. Not here yet. For a politician who claims to always be on time, Larry Roberts sure does know how to be late!

Orpheus gave his neck a good twist. The left side first, nothing. He did the same to the right side. Crack. His eyes back down to the menu. Salmon. Lobster. Fish. Gross. Why here? Kind of hard to upkeep an image when you don’t–

“Excuse me, sir? Are you ready to order?” The young waiter chimed. His painted on, half-crooked smile was so well rehearsed that it almost felt sincere. He smelled of cheese and fish. Barf. Orpheus could practically taste the vomit. Just thinking of ordering made his stomach curl. He gave the restaurant a scan, barely moving his eyes. Bingo. Larry Roberts had just walked in. His face held a smug smile and his narrowing eyes were full of bliss.

Just order Orpheus. “Umm.. err... I’ll take the Cajun Seafood Pasta with a glass of water.” Orpheus handed the menu to the waiter. “Thank you sir, your order will be up momentarily.”

#

Ding. “Order up!” A woman bellowed from across the restaurant. When Orpheus received his dish, he couldn’t help but stare at it repulsively. “This is the nastiest shit I have ever seen and smelled.” He muttered to himself. How can anyone actually eat this crap? Orpheus hadn’t come here to actually eat.

Nope. He just had to keep his image up, make it look like he was a paying customer. He was just a man there to eat, plain and simple. But in reality, Orpheus had been waiting on Larry Roberts. The prominent, lying, two-faced politician had to be taken out, and Orpheus was the cold-blooded killer who was hired to do it.

The smell of fish wreaked havoc on Orpheus’s nostrils. They flared and scrunched up each time he inhaled the smell of fish sitting right in front of him. The white creamy sauce married the noodles and tiny fish pieces together, as it turned Orpheus’s stomach. He pulled at his collar as a lump formed in his throat. His body was blistering, and his hands were clammy from the sweat running down from his body. Saliva filled his dry mouth as the gagging started. Ackkk.

Throwing his hands over his mouth, Orpheus swiftly made his way to the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet when the vomit pooled from his mouth, chunks emitting into the toilet and onto the floor. Orpheus heaved while leaning over the toilet, his stomach gnawed in agony. He used his sleeve to wipe the sweat dripping from his brown hair down to his forehead, and then used it to do the same to his mouth. His sleeve was now covered in small brown chunks of vomit.

#

Orpheus flushed the toilet and washed his hands and face in the porcelain sink. He patted his face dry as he took a glimpse in the mirror, a reflection of his own monster looking back at him. Crap! He forgot all about Larry Roberts! His boss would kill him if he didn’t get the job done! Sick or not, Orpheus had to deliver. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

He could basically hear his boss roar now, “Orpheus, you are to do what you’re told! Everything else is irrelevant, and I won’t accept excuses! If I have to remind you again, there will be repercussions. I will have to make an example out of you!”

Orpheus shook it off as the hairs on the back of his neck stood. The kind of hairs you get when you know something bad is about to happen. The kind of bad that will make you wish you were never alive. Gulp. Orpheus swallowed.

Orpheus charged out of the bathroom, back out to the seating area where he last saw his target. Gone! Larry Roberts was nowhere to be found. Orpheus ran outside and checked the smoking section, no Larry. He checked around the block, no Larry. He checked the parking garage, no Larry. Larry’s car was gone. Orpheus stood in the street in disbelief. He was supposed to take out Larry and he failed.

Ring. Ring. Orpheus jumped as his phone lit up the words, “BOSS MAN.” Crap. Crap. Crap. Orpheus paced up and down the dim lit street as he contemplated on what to do next. It was his boss, what could he do? If he answered it, then he would have to let him know that he failed. If he didn’t answer it, he would know that he failed for sure. Orpheus was to make the call when he took out Larry, and that deadline was over an hour ago! He couldn’t just finish the job. I mean he could, but in this field of work–you make your deadline or you are dead. Period.

Orpheus would have to leave the country. He ran home and began to pack his belongings. Ring. Ring. His boss had been calling nonstop since Orpheus missed his deadline. Ding. His phone lit up again. Only this time, it was a nationwide bulletin sent out to every assassin. It read: “Orpheus Roberts wanted dead. Reward: $100,000,000.” Knock. Knock. Knock. Orpheus let out a small whimper.

#

Beep. Beep. Beep. A hand smacked the snooze button on the alarm clock. “Orpheus! Get up! Get up or you’re going to be late for school!” A woman shouted from the doorway. Orpheus sat up while wiping his eyes. He let out a big yawn as his nose crinkled up. “What is that awful smell?” His eyes widened in fear. His mouth gaped open as he raised his hand up to his nose and caught a glimpse of his sleeve. It was covered in small brown chunks of vomit.

The End