=================BEGINNING OF CHAPTER 5=========================

7 times 1 = L. Calderon.

George arrived at the Waffle Haus and saw Rube and Roxy sitting in their regular booth. She sat down beside Roxy while Rube was looking through the notes in his leather binder. "Hey."

Rube didn't look up from his notes. A simple "Hey to you too, peanut." Was all he mumbled.

Roxy rolled her eyes and turned towards George. "Don't worry, he's been like that the entire day. How are you?"

George disregarded Rube and turned to Roxy too. "I'm doing pretty good. I just had to get out of the house."

"Why?"

"It looked like a bomb had exploded in there. I don't know what Mason and Daisy had been upto but the place looked like absolute crap."

Roxy squinted her eyes, as if she was thinking. "Mason and Daisy?"

"Yeah, they were both giggeling like little schoolgirls and acting like nothing was going on.... and then...more giggeling."

"That's weird."

Roxy took a cup from the table and took a couple of sips.

George smelled the delicious smell of freshly grounded coffee beans "Smells good. Kiffany, can I get one of those too?" she said as the waitress walked by.

"Sure thing hun. Coming right up."

"Thanks."

As Kiffany walked toward the counter to get George's coffee, she brought a check to another client. Then, she returned to the booth with a smoking cup of coffee in her hands.

"Here you go sweety."

"Thanks." George said as she inhaled the smell of the coffeebeans and Kiffany continued her round in the Waffle Haus.

"Anyway, continue." Roxy said, tapping George on the shoulder.

"Continue what?"

"So Mason and Daisy where giggeling like little schoolgirls, what else?"

"Nothing...that was the story."

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by Rube's voice. "You girls done gossiping?"

"It is alive!" George exclaimed, first speaking fearfully, then bursting out in laughter.

"Ha-ha. Real funny." Rube said as he stuck 2 post-its on the table. "Would be great if you could use that sort of humor on your next assignment."

"Who is it?" George said as she followed Roxy's example and took her post-it from the table.

"L. Calderon. – St. Jackson Street 8.34 P.M."

Roxy also read her post-it.

"P. Bizibody – 54 Olive Way, Apt C – 2.40 A.M."

"Pee Bizibody?" She read off of her post-it. "What kind of a name is "pee bizibody?"

George got up and put her coat back on. "The name of a very unfortunate man and/or woman aperantly." She took a last glance at her note before putting it in her pocket. "Well, gotta go. I have about an hour to get to Jackson's."

Roxy looked up to George. "See ya later, and good luck." She said right before George stepped towards the exit.

"Thanks, you too."

LATER. ST. JACKSON STREET, SE

George looked around on St. Jackson street. It was one of those streets which never seemed to end, some shops and a hill which made the street rise up a bit. It was quite busy for the time of day. Business men and women were walking in and out of highrisers as a variety of clothing shops were closing for the day.

From the distance, the sound of an approaching people-mass came forever closer.

George sighed deeply. She hated these kinds of "annonymous" reaps. It was always so difficult to find out whom exactly you where supposed to take. "Fuck."

She made her way upwards and looked around for people that looked like they could be ""

When she saw a man selling some table cloths in a simple stand, she went upto him. "Excuse me, sir?"

The man looked up. "Interested? Not cost much." He said while pointing out some simple, white cloths and speaking with a portuguese accent.

"I was wondering if I could borrow your chair for just a minute." George said while taking a glance over the table.

The man offered his chair to George, who put it on the middle of the street.

Fear in the young reaper rose as she saw hundreds of people coming closer and closer.

"NO human being is Illegal!

"We are no Terrorists"

"Work = Living"

all slogans written on different billboards and flyers that the approaching mass where distributing to surprised passers-by.

Now George remembered! There was an announced Work for Greencards-march going on in the area. Hundreds of illegal immigrants, most of them from Mexico, had gathered downtown and where now marching towards city hall with flyers, whissles and banners.

"Oh FUCK! Now how am I supposed to know which of these people is fucking ?" George thought to herself as the mostly-Latino protesters approached her.

She quickly got up the stool and asked one of the fore-runners for his microphone.

"Ughm, Hello? Is this thing on?" she tapped on the top of the mic untill an annoying peep came out of the amps. "I guess it is."

As some people in the mass looked at George, she first mumbled a few words to herself and than gathered up all her courage. "Hello... I'm looking.."

Most people disregarded her.

"Hello? Yeah, this way." She gestured by pointing at herself. "I'm looking for an ."

People kept speaking amoungst eachother and George was getting no response what so ever.

"What the hell." She thought to herself.

"We are not terrorists – Work = Life" she spoke softly through the microphone

"No Terrorists, Work Is Life!" the mass replied

"We are not terrorists – Work = Life" she repeated, louder this time.

"Immigrants are people too!" the mass replied once again.

George smiled. "Cool."

"Hello everyone. I'm looking for a surtain mister or misses L. Calderon. – Could L. Calderon please report to the stool?"

The request for quickly reached the backlines as a couple of people stepped towards the stool. The other protesters went on and within minutes, the only people left in the street where George, 7 L. Calderon's and the table cloth salesman.

"So, you're all...L. Calderon?"

One after the other nodded.

"And what are your names?"

"Leonardo", "Lisa", "Lena", "Lynda", "Lando", "Lisetta", "Leander" one spoke after the other.

"Please excuse me for a second." George sighed as she took her cellphone out of her bag. "This won't take long.

She pressed number 5 on her speeddial.

A few seconds later, Rube picked up his phone. "Hello?"

"Rube, red alert." George panicked.

"Whats up?"

George spoke fast and firmly. "Your post-it is a total fuck-up, that's whats up."

"How so?"

"My post-it said: "L. Calderon"

"And?"

George sighed again. "There are 7 freaking 's here. I don't know who I'm supposed to reap and i've only got a few minutes left to decide. What do I do? You gotta give me something more than initials."

"Look, peanut. I'm just the messenger. I..."

George's anger began to rise. "Rube, I know you get more than first initials. Give me something!"

A short pause over the phone as Rube was gathering his thoughts. "Okay. Just this once."

"Deal."

"The person you're looking for is in his mid-thirtees. Possibly slightly overweight and he's from Puerto Rico."

George took a quick glance over her possible reapees.

"That narrows it down to 2, unless one of the others went to get a face-lift."

"Do you have an idea who it might be?"

George looked at the reapees again. "I might have an idea."

"Good."

George heard a "click" on the other side of the line and put her phone down as well.

She pointed her attention back to the 's. "Hello everyone. You're here with me today because you have been chosen to enter a sweepstake. I'd want you to say a little bit more about yourself so that we can get a small profile and then we can continue.

One after the other said who he or she was and where he or she came from.

After a short while of "profiling", the guy who had identified himself as Lando spoke up.

"My name is Lando, I came here 11 years ago from Puerto Rico. I'm 36 years old and I work in construction. My parents are Rosa and Abram."

George nodded her head and noted down some scribbles. "Bingo." She thought as she gently rubbed him on the shoulder.

"Thank you all for your cooperation, we will contact you for the continuation of the sweepstake in a couple of days." George spoke as eloquently as possible. "Sorry to have kept you from your marching."

The Calderon's made their way back to the protests as George saw a Graveling jumping from rooftop to rooftop, following Lando.

The Graveling sat down in a bulldozer and turned on the ignition. The motor started humming and the machine slowly moved forward, bumping against a truck of which the owner had forgotten to put on the break. The truck went downhill, straight towards Lando but hit a van of a cleaning company on its way.

When the van flipped over, one of the straps to hold the ladder in place loosened up and the ladder streched out, decapitating Lando.

"¡Ay Dios mio!" Lando exclaimed as he saw his lifeless and decapitated body on the streets. "¿Que Paso?"

George turned towards Lando and smiled at him. "Hey Lando. I regret to inform you that you have passed away."

Lando looked at her in surprise. "Who are you?", he spoke in Spanglish.

"Not really important is it? Now, lets take you to wherever it is you're going."

"Which is where?"

George took Lando's hand and walked him down the street. "In all honesty, I wouldn't know. But I've never heard any complaints."

Lando moved on and George looked around the, now deserted, street again.

"That was that." She sighed as she whiped off possible blood from her hands. Then, she got into her car and went home.

=====================END OF CHAPTER 5===========================