Copy Shop
It was around eight o'clock in the morning when I received the first phone call. The caller ID contained unintelligable symbols that shouldn't have been possible on the telephone, yet they gave me a pang of deja vu as if I were supposed to understand them.
I answered. "Greenlaw Copy Shop, how can I help you?" "I need three hunded copies of some pictures I have in my possesion."I thought his wording was a bit strange, yet his articulation caused me to stay on the line.
"And are those photos grayscale or full color?"
"They are color photos." "Alright. And, are they web graphics?"
"I have them in my hands right now. They are not." "Okay, and one last thing, how big is each photo?"
"They are all exactly, to the point, 17.8 inches by 26.7 inches. Height and width, respectively."
"That's all I need. When will you be stopping by?"
"Probably 10 o'clock." "Alright, thanks for calling--"
"One more thing. You don't know me, but you'll recognize me. You'll just know."
I thought this was odd and proceeded to call the police to give them the info. An officer answered and told me, very plainly with hints of sadness, that I should not be making false reports. I swore up and down that it was all true and the officer promptly hung up. At 9:58, a black Ford van pulled up to the side of the building. A gruff, yet short man stepped out of the driver's side holding three very large envelopes. My mind told me this was probably him, but my gut told me that it was him.
"Hello. I need three hundred copies of some photos I'm holding here." "Hi! Let me see those and I'll have them out in just a bit." He handed them over, but seemed reluctant to do so. I took the photos out of the envelopes. There were three of them, and I didn't look at them quite yet as they were upside down when I pulled them out.
"Sir, would you like 100 copies of each photo to total 300?"
"No, 300 copies of each."
"Alright, but that's going to cost you quite a bit.
Our bulk rates will lowe--"
"It's okay. I have enough."
I went back to the copy room to run them off and flipped the photos over. What I saw may never escape my mind. A man wearing a hockey mask with the jaw area cut off was stringing a child, no more than five, over an open fire. It seemed that there were others in the back cheering him on. The ropes were attached to some sort of elaborate pulley system.
It seemed that it was being used to lower the child in. Surprisingly, the child looked very plain, with only hints of sadness on his face. The second photo was of a fire pit, that had burnt down to ash. Bone fragments were visible. Though I wasn't actually there, I began to smell burning flesh. The people in the back seemed to have backed away, maybe to join the photographer. The third photo was of my copy shop. I proceeded to think quickly, and actually ran off the copies to give him.
"That'll be $79.34!" "Thank you for your time."
Again, thinking quickly, I proceeded to hit the panic button very calmly. "Sir, would you like to take part in a survey?"
"Why not. I have all the time I could possibly want in this world."
As I talked to him about the quality of his prints, and if he liked the colors that were printed, if the sizing was perfect, three police cruisers pulled up to the shop.
When they opened the door, they stared straight at me. "What's the emergency?"
The man was grinning at me.
"Sir? What is the emergency here?"
They stepped to the desk and looked at the prints that the man had placed there. He was gone. The first officer vomited right there. The other two restrained me and lugged me to jail, where I was questioned.
The trial lasted a full year, and ended in favor of the State. I couldn't do anything but cry. I offed myself by climbing through an air vent and jumping from the top of the penetentiary. I have one more thing to say before you go. If you get a call at your copy shop, take note of the articulation in my voice.
Credited to Mainer1
Originally uploaded on July 3, 2012
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