I, Coffee Maker
I've seen some exciting things in this place, sure. In the fifteen
years that I've been here I've seen so many things—shootouts, fist
fights, explosions, even an attempted kidnapping or two—the sort of
stuff that most of my kind never have the opportunity to see. If
someone ever asked me to write my memoirs, I bet they'd be made into a
blockbuster movie. Look out Oscars, here I come!
But since I'm only a coffee maker, so no one ever asks me anything.
And I've never even seen any movies. The closest I ever get is reading
about them in the newspapers that people are looking at when they come
over to get their daily cup of coffee.
As you've probably gathered, life in this office—the people call it a
`bullpen' for some strange reason—is hardly typical. But even I, Mr.
Coffee, was surprised by what I saw tonight. The doors to the bullpen
opened and a blond woman—the one they called Francine—entered. In her
arms, Francine was holding a toddler. It was strange to see Francine
doing that—she'd never struck me as being the child-friendly type. I
recalled having seen this child only the night before- asleep in the
arms of Mr. Stetson, also called Scarecrow. I liked the
Stetsons-especially Mrs. Stetson, who was in the habit of bringing
cakes and brownies into the bullpen and sitting them right next to me.
The child was wearing a strange outfit tonight- it was orange and
puffy. A matching orange and green hat was perched upon her blond
curls and in her chubby hands she held a plastic bag. She looked
around the office with wide brown eyes, her head turning every which way.
"What's that?" she said, pointing at me.
"That's a coffee maker, Jenna," Francine said.
"See it?" Jenna asked, reaching out her hand towards me and letting
go of the bag she held. "Pease?" Francine grabbed the bag before it
hit the floor.
"No," she said. "It's hot-don't touch."
"Hot," Jenna said, waving one hand as she spoke. "Ouch."
"That's right," Francine said. "Ouch."
This was one of the times where I really wished I could say something
in my defense; I was actually a little bit steamed. I never thought of
myself as a thing that makes people go `ouch'-though I guess that if
people aren't careful about something hot like me anything could
happen. Maybe toddlers are too young to drink my coffee.
As steamy as I was, the next voice I heard caused me to feel a little
chill. He picked up my pot, tipping some of my coffee into his black
mug. Yuck, I thought. Even his fingers were cold.
"And just who is this, Blondie?" Dr. Smyth said. "She looks a little
short to be on the Agency payroll."
"This is Jenna Stetson," Francine said.
"Little Scarecrow, eh?" Dr. Smyth said, taking a sip and putting his
mug back down on the table. "Well well well-boys and girls come out
to play. You do realize that this is an Intelligence Agency,
Desmond-not a crèche. 'kay?"
" `kay!" Jenna said. Dr. Smyth gave the toddler a look I'd seen
before. It made most Agents here quail and reach for me to pour
another cup. Jenna, however, didn't seem to be fazed.
"Well since her parents are on a mission for this Agency," Francine
said. "Doesn't that place her under our protection?"
"That's a stretch, but I suppose I'll let it slide just this once,"
Dr. Smyth said. "What's with the bag—Trick or treat?"
"Twick or Tweat!" Jenna said. At that moment there was a ringing
sound.
"Excuse me," Francine said, pulling out her cell phone. "Billy? Yes
of course I'm still in the building. She what?" There was a pause.
"That's the last time I hire an assistant Billy-I'll be there right
away—Why can't Jenna be there?" Francine sighed. "No, I'll think of
something-be there in just a minute."
Francine turned to Dr. Smyth. "Can you take Jenna for a moment? Billy
wants me in his office to clear up an accounting problem."
"Well I-" it was the first time I'd seen Dr. Smyth at a loss for
words. Francine thrust the toddler and the plastic bag towards him and
left. Personally I didn't think he was the best choice for childcare
but what do I know-I just make coffee. Jenna and Dr. Smyth were quiet
for a minute, looking at each other.
"What's that?" Jenna said, pointing towards the mug right in front of
me on my table.
"That's mine," Dr. Smyth said.
"Mine?" Jenna said.
"No, mine." Dr. Smyth said.
"Hot?" Jenna asked.
"Very," Dr. Smyth said.
"Ouch," Jenna said.
"Correct-a-mundo, Jenna."
"Wect-a-mundo?" Jenna said.
"Close enough," Dr. Smyth said, reaching into a nearby bowl and
dropping a wrapped candy into the plastic bag. "Here, have a candy on
me." .
In the distance I could hear a familiar-sounding bellow-loud enough to
be heard through the entire bullpen:
"You left my Goddaughter with who??"
I watched as Francine came running up.
"Thank you," she said breathlessly, taking Jenna and the bag from Dr.
Smyth's grasp.
"Why don't we get you home, Jenna?" Francine said. "That's enough
trick-or-treating for tonight."
Jenna smiled. "Wect-a mundo, blondie," she said.
Author's Chapter Notes:
The usual disclaimers apply-hope you enjoy reading it-I didn't ever think I'd be able to come up with a challenge response. This is a filler for an old story of mine-The Great Pumpkin Drop-where Francine takes two-year-old Jenna trick-or-treating around The Agency :)