Odd Jobs
Page 11
“Oh... fuck,” I said.
“Where’s the money, Jobs?” Fluffy roared.
“What money?” I tried to sound genuinely confused.
“I know you just got paid! Where is it?”
Fluffy did not wait for me to answer. He released my wrist and drove his enormous fist into my gut. It felt like a miniature truck had hit me in the stomach. My body flapped like a windsock. The air in my lungs surged out of my mouth like projectile vomit. Fluffy let go of my collar. I plummeted to the ground and crumpled into a ball. My hat fell off my head and rolled along its brim, coming to a rest several feet away.
I lay on the floor, fighting to suck air into lungs that seemed temporarily paralyzed. Fluffy’s monstrous hands pawed all over me. They found every pocket, pulling out my holo-identifier, my hypo-injector, my revolver, and my spare ammo and leaving it all scattered around me like satellites around a planet. He found the money in my coveralls and the money in my trenchcoat. He even found the emergency fund tucked into my holster.
“I knew you got paid, you lying sack of shit,” Fluffy growled. “This’ll cover this week’s vig and probably take a small bite out of your principal. See you next week, Jobs.”
His footsteps shook the floor as he stomped away. I forced myself to move as soon as the vibrations stopped. My gut felt like it was on fire and it was still hard to breathe... but I had to collect my belongings before the locals smelled easy prey. I quickly swept the various satellites into a pile then reached for the most important item... my hat. My fingers immediately went for the sweatband, frantically digging behind it until they closed upon my secondary emergency fund. Relief swept over me like a wave of cool water, almost overpowering the pain. I still had a little bit of money. It was not nearly enough to take the vacation from reality that I had planned on. It was enough to buy the bare minimum amount of dope I needed to stay functional. It was just enough to get me back to work.