A/N: The history of the Adair family in Greenwich is unknown to us, so we altered a small story we once read about another Adair family. The history portrayed here is not correct but just altered to make the story fit better.
Chapter 2: back to work
"What's so important about Greenwich Adairs?" George aimed towards Daisy. "Isn't a Greenwhich Adair the same as any other?"
Daisy's mouth fell open. "Do you not know about the Adair family from Greenwich", her as per usual dramatic voice came up again.
George and Mason looked at eachother and shrugged.
"The Adair family was part of an anti-slavery group up North. They were based up in Connecticut. In the late 1850's, a couple of groups who were proslavery had set out to gravely injure Samuel Adair, my forefather, but failed as more and more anti-slavery groups got together and fought against slavery." She spoke ever so eloquently.
"I thought the Adair family you're speaking of came from Kansas?" Mason wondered. "There is something in the back of my mind that just screams "Kansas".
Daisy disregarded Masons last words as she sat back down at the booth.
Before everyone even had the chance to sit down, Post-its were sticking to the table sides. Sighs were exchanged by each member but Rube.
When they were seated, Rube didn't do his usual morning talk. He was looking rather contemplative.
"What's up Rube?" Roxy said while padding him on the shoulder to get his attention.
"Nothing, I'm just thinking."
'About?" Mason asked.
"Der Waffle Haus. I'm wondering, in German, wouldn't it be Das Waffle Haus?" Rube said while pointing at the sign.
"Bloody Hell." Is all Mason could say. "You are shitting me? Is that what you think about when you're alone? I don't bloody care whether it's the fucking Der Waffle Haus or the fucking Das Waffle Haus, as long as they serve waffles, and it's in a house, I'm bloody fine if they call it Shit on a fucking stick."
"Say that word one more time and I'll give you shit on a stick." The older man grumped.
Mason and Daisy looked at one another. Daisy gestured and lipped "Go on."
"Fuck, Fuck, Fuckidy, Fuck, Fuck Fuck" Mason suddenly let out.
Rube got up quickly and grabbed Mason by the collar. "Come along will you?"
He pulled Mason along into the men's room. A short while thereafter, they exited the men's room and sat back down. Mason had his tongue sticking out. "Soap." Is all he said before taking a napkin and spitting into it.
With all ease, Rube sat back down, not looking at Mason anymore. "Don't you fucking do that again." He said quietly.
After the morning scrummage had gone, everyone left the booth and went on their merry ways to go reap their souls, or to relax.
Reap nO.1
J. Morales
232 E. Pine St
E.T.D. 2.32 PM.
George was standing at the corner of Spring St. and Summit avenue. She didn't exactly know where to go, or how she would get to E. Pine St. but she knew that she had to get there on time. Time now was 2.13.
"Excuse me sir?"
A man walked passed her, ignoring the question.
"Ma'am?" A distraught woman looked over her shoulder but didn't respond either.
"Excuse me?" A third person walked towards George. More success with this one. The man stopped and aimed his attention towards George, who didn't only feel lost, she seemed lost as well.
"Hello young lady." The elderly gentleman further approached her. "What can I do for you?"
George overlooked the man's scrummy appearance and continued. "I'm looking for E. Pine St. do you know where that is?"
The man seemed pensive. "Why yes young lady, I do." Was his answer. "You take a left here, which is Summit Av. You keep following this road, until the end of Crawford Place. Then, if you look at your right side, that's E. Pine St." the man smiled.
George looked as if she was saving a mindmap into her brains. She looked at the man in gratitude. "Thanks."
"No problem little lady." The elderly gentleman said. "Happy to help."
With that, the man walked on in the direction of his original destination. Cane in right hand swooping through the air.
J. Morales Furniture & Sons.
"That's easier than I had expected it to be."
She entered the prestigious building which had an air of greatnes to itself. "Do you know where I can find Mr. J. Morales?" She asked the first person she came by.
"Mr. J. Morales? Don't you mean Ms. J. Morales?" The man looked at her with confused expressions. "Jillian Morales is at the top floor, office 2D."
George just gave the man a friendly smile. She went on to the elevators.
As she was standing in the elevator, staring at the floor buttons, all she could do was think: "Wait, who the hell puts apartment 2 D on the 4th floor?" She disregarded her thoughts and pressed the button anyway.
"DING. ELEVATOR GOING UP"
"DING. FOURTH FLOOR, PLEASE BE CAREFUL EXITING."
George got rather spooked as she heard a female elevator voice announcing the destination of the elevator, but soon realised there was nothing to worry about.
Reap nO.2
F. Mohler
12 Cherry St.
E.T.D. 3.49 PM.
Roxy seemed self-confident as she stuck a parking ticket on the winshield of a Porche Carrera. She had her eye on the prize.
Roxy's post-it said that she could find her target in Cherry street, which is exactly where her route went by today. As her attention diverted, away from the ticket, she noticed a couple of young boys crossing the street onto 3rd avenue. Seeing she didn't have any business there, she just let them be.
She was trying to find Friedman Mohler, a German immigrant. Friedman was a little over 30 years old and spoke with a heavy German accent.
"Gutentag Fraulein, can I help you?" He tabbed Roxy on the back. "Is Zas my cahr?" Roxy could barely understand him.
"Good afternoon sir, is this your vehicle?" She looked at him strickly. "Because you parked it in the red zone, for which I gave you a ticket." She completed.
"Oh, I appologise. I am not yet accustomed to ze American parking zystem." The man gestured friendly. "Offcourse I vill pay my ticket."
Roxy felt kind of sorry for the man. He was trying so hard to be a valuable new citizen and now he had to die. "It's okay." Roxy spoke friendly.
With that, Friedman stuck out his hand. "Goodbye ms. Officer." He smiled.
Roxy just shook his hand, reaping his soul while she was at it. "Have a nice day sir."
Reap nO.1
J. Morales
232 E. Pine St
E.T.D. 2.32 PM.
George got out of the elevator and went door by door, seeking for 2D. As she found the office, she heard several people talking on the inside.
She knocked on the door and, as she opened it, she noticed a man and a woman look at her in shock. The man, who was closest to the door, was putting his jeans straight. The woman was buttoning her blouse. Afterwhich she put her skirt straight and sat behind her desk.
"Oh, I'm sorry." George just said with an embarrassed stare. "I'll come back later."
Quickly, the woman rose from her seat again. "Oh, no, we're done here. What can I do for you?"
As the woman rose up, George entered the office which horridly smelled like a sweaty mixture between strong sented perfume and a man's cologne.
"Hello Ms. Morales. My name is Jennifer Dasz and I'm with the Ice cream federation. I've been told that this company treats its employees to ice cream every Friday and I was wondering if I could take a little survey?"
Jillian Morales penetrably looked at George. "It'll only take a couple of minutes and I'll be on my way." She said.
"Okay." A surprised Jillian could only say.
That said, "Jennifer Dasz" made her way over to the desk, which the man and woman had just had sex upon, and reached out for Jillian.
"Let me introduce myself again.' She said, clutching/reaping onto the hand. "My name is Jennifer Dasz and I'm here because of the ice cream servings."
"I think there's been some sort of a mistake here. My employees don't get free ice cream ever Friday?" Jillian said while shaking George's hand.
"I am talking to Jillian M. Morales, right?" because I'm looking for that person.
"I'm sorry. My middle name is Elisabeth." Jillian let out. "I think you got the wrong company. She smiled.
"How could I have been so stupid! I am so sorry to disturb you at your business. I'll be on my way again then." George let go of the hand and made her way to the door.
George Voiceover.
You see, sometimes a lie, isn't always bad. Take me for example. I'm not Jennifer Dasz, nor am I a member of the ice cream federation, I'm not even sure there is something like a fucking ice cream federation. But I didn't have any questions, so I lied. Sue me. It's not like I'm gonna die or anything, any time soon.
Scene
Before George had even left the building a horrendous scream was heard from the location of office 2D. Aperantly, Ms. J. Morales still wrote with a fountain pen. Being a little too excited on the job, she stuck the pen right into her hand.
She died of blood poisoning. Too much ink had mingled with her blood. Some of her veins had a deep color of purple and her face was stuck in a terrified glare.
George simply left, behind her the soul of the crossing J. Morales.
George Smiled. "Job well done."
Reap nO.3
C.J. Penny
9021 E. Alder St
E.T.D. 4.56 PM.
Mason was walking across E. Alder street as he saw a fancy jacket hanging from a shopping window. He went inside and came out with the jacket.
His reap had been the elderly gentleman from behind the counter. The man would eventually have to get up a step ladder and trip, causing him to land in a very unfortunate way and die.
Mason didn't quite feel like he had to work today. It was all so easy. Just hand the man the money for the jacket, and leave the store, with a new jacket, a new soul and the money for the jacket.
"Sorry mate, a boy's gotta eat." He said as he reached down the pocket of his pants. "And pay for these little things." He hadn't even finished the sentence as he got out a bunch of pills, held together in a container. He opened the container and swallowed 2 pills. "Just enough to make a man feel better."
He lit a cigarette and walked away from the store.
Reap nO.4
P. Star
1 Vine St
E.T.D. 7.23 PM.
Daisy, holding a red bound book, came into a small theatre, located in Vine St. She quickly knew where she was going.
Backstage.
"Hello, where may I find the director of this marvellous piece of art?" Daisy once again brought out the most melodramatic voice.
"He's right there ma'am. Just go to the door that reads Patrick Star, director." A man in slobby clothes replied to her, pointing in the direction of a long hallway.
"Patrick Star? Is that his real name, or a stage name?"
"It's just a stage name. His real name is Richard Bloomington-Roscoe, but you will never hear him say that." The man replied without looking back.
Der Waffle Haus – same time
Rube was sitting in the regular booth, sipping from a cup of coffee. As he was reading the newspaper, suddenly he rose his right finger. "Excuse me, Kiffany, can you come over here please?"
The waitress came over, carrying a coffee can. "What can I do you for?" she said in a friendly voice.
"Der or Das?" Rube said.
It was hard for Kiffany to hide her confusion. "Excuse me?"
"Do you think it's right as "Der Waffle Haus" or "Das Waffle Haus"?" Rube added. "Which one's correct?" He waved his paper in the air.
"I don't know, actually." She wondered. "I've never thought about it." She placed one hand on her hip while staring at the sign.
After some time, she focused back to Rube. "Can I get you anything?" changing the subject.
"A refill on this coffee would be nice, thanks Kiffany." He said, placing his hand over the mug.
Kiffany poured in a new cup and went back to the counter.
All of a sudden, Rube shouted "I got it!"
Kiffany came back over to the table with an angry look. "Mind telling me what you got, before you destroy my clientele?"
"Oh, nothing. I'm pretty sure it has to be "Das Waffle Haus", that's all.
"Really? Then why's that, my brave soldier?" She nodded sarcastically.
"Das or Der have reference to the house, not to the waffle. Since a house is female, and Das is also female, it can only be "Das waffle haus"."
"Okay, thanks for finding that out. I'll go straight to management with this. How dare they!" She laughed out loud.
Rube got up and left Der Waffle Haus soon afterwards.
Reap nO.2
F. Mohler
12 Cherry St.
E.T.D. 3.49 PM.
Friedman Mohler was crossing Cherry street as he noticed his shoe lace being untied. He stopped to tie it back up, putting his briefcase next to him, in the middle of the road. Eventhough there were several cars blaring in his direction, he didn't move. Not an inch.
When a truck came in his direction, he had just finished tying the bo to his lace, and picked up the briefcase and noticed the truck steaming steadily in his direction.
"Get off the motherfucking road, you retard." The truckdriver yelled, windows down.
Before the truck hit Friendman, the German born had quickly removed himself from his diar position, there in the middle of the street.
He blew out the last bit of breath, he held in while in the tense situation and marched to the curve.
He was happy to be back on the sidewalk. He had come to the realisation that the past couple of minutes could've been the last of him.
Reap nO.4
P. Star
1 Vine St
E.T.D. 7.23 PM.
Daisy knocked on the door of Patrick Star. She didn't really know what to expect, only that there'd be a man behind the door.
She knocked again. Seemingly, no one answered.
As she knocked for a third time, she began to get worried. Did she have the wrong location?
Another knock on the door. This time, it creeped open just enough for her to take a quick glance inside. There was no one.
Reap nO.2
F. Mohler
12 Cherry St.
E.T.D. 3.49 PM.
Roxy had just been witness to the traffic stupidity of Friedman Mohler, eventhough she couldn't believe it didn't kill him. Then she checked her watch.
3.48 PM.
A couple of more seconds to go.
Friedman was walking at the other side of the street.
He didn't notice that he was being followed by the officer who, just a couple of minutes before, gave him a ticket for parking his Porche into a red zone.
He walked on in steady pace, always looking forward, never back, always remembering to look at the ground, in order to keep himself from tripping.
Then Roxy noticed something near a location Friedman was about to pass. It was only a faint visual, and she couldn't be one hundred percent sure. But, to her knowledge, the thing she saw could only be one thing.
Gravelings.
In the mean time
Rube was walking the street as he was soon joined by both George and Mason. Their job had finished and they met Rube to discuss what had happened.
"My guy just fell down a stepladder and landed unfortunately." Mason said with a bore. "I couldn't believe this was all I got." He added.
Rube was just watching ahead of himself. He listened attentively but didn't bother looking in Masons direction.
"What about you buttercup? What happened to your guy?"
George looked at Rube and smiled. "Blood poisoning from the use of a fountain pen." She said humored. "Guess she must've really liked that pen."
Rube just smiled at his youngest pupil. "Well done Peanut."
At that moment, Mason got a phone call.
He picked it up and...
Reap nO.2
F. Mohler
12 Cherry St.
E.T.D. 3.49 PM.
Friedman Mohler was still walking in the same direction. Gravelings still nearby, Roxy felt that wave of sadness again. The one she felt when she first met F. Mohler.
This was one of the reasons why reapers couldn't be too close to their souls. To make sure they wouldn't do anything to change the course of events. She almost did.
But resisted.
The gravelings climbed ontop of a moving crane. They turned off the brakes of several demolition materials. Causing them to drive directly onto the street. Because of this, two trucks and a car were forced to make a sudden break and turn to the left.
One of the trucks drove inside a house. The walls of the house virtually collapsed, landing right on top of Friedman Mohler.
His T.O.D. was 3.49 PM.
Roxy was just standing there, waiting, onlooking. She knew there was nothing that could've been done to prevent it. The usually so harsh police officer, had just snapped. The way Friedman Mohler died, was brutality at its best, unlike anything she'd every seen before.
A single tear formed in the corner of her eye.
Friedman Mohler was standing behind her. "Vhat happened?" was his first, still in shock, reaction. "Vhy am I hejre?"
Roxy turned around to face the German born man. She didn't know how to explain what happened, so she hardened her heart again. "You're dead."
Friedman looked at her in disbelief. "Ghow can I be zead?" He spoke, still in shock. "I am right hejre."
Roxy just turned her eyes at him. She didn't know what else to do.
A bright light appeared.
"That's for you." She said self-surely. "Go on."
Friedman Mohler did what he was told, and walked towards the bright light.
He was gone.
End of Chapter 2
A/N: Since there are several sides to the story, we decided to make it into a sort of "24", where you have different things happening all while another thing is happening. Eventhough the timing may not seem correct, it wasn't our intention to keep the timing strictly linear. It wouldn't have fit into the story if we first would've completely covered George's reap, then Mason, then Roxy,....
