The following is a work of fan fiction based on the CBS television series, The Magnificent Seven. It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp., or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters and settings. I don't own the characters. Only using them for a short time and will return them in relatively the same shape as when borrowed.
The ATF realm was created by MOG. My sincere thanks for allowing me to play in your sandbox.
Notes: Just a little (hopefully, fun) piece that came to me on a snowy afternoon. Feedback always appreciated. Enjoy.
Ever have one of those days when no matter what you try to do, it goes to hell in a hand basket? You know... the kind of day when you oversleep so you are running late anyway and then when you go to make coffee, you manage to drop the basket and spread coffee grounds all over the floor? And when you go to get the broom from the pantry to sweep them up, you knock a can off the shelf onto your foot? Those type of days??
Well, that's how this day started.
Still, I told myself I wasn't going to let it get me down. A bad start didn't mean the entire day had to be a bust. Right?
I didn't buy it either.
Turns out, not only was it a day that nothing worked out the way it was suppose to, neither was the evening. Why else would I end up sitting in a police station waiting for Chris to pick me up?
Okay, let me back up.
I already told you about the coffee fiasco. Well, the can that so gracefully arched off the shelf managed to smack right on top of my left foot, above the shoe line. Blinking back the tears and swallowing the cuss words on the tip of my tongue, I hobbled back across the kitchen and swept up the grounds before I grabbed an ice bag to put on my throbbing foot. By this time, I have a bruise and a knot the size of a kiwi standing gracefully on it.
Propping my foot onto a nearby chair, I plop the ice bag on it and was immediately sorry. It would have been better if I had gently laid it on there, but, oh no, not today. Today, I had to swing that baby and slam it on there like I was killing a huge spider.
Blowing out several large breathes of air while the pain again subsided to a tolerable level, I reached back to grab the phone to call the office to tell them to cancel my 10:00 a.m. meeting. Of course, the telephone is not on its stand. It's on the counter, clear across the kitchen where I had left it the night before.
Perfect.
So, I struggle up, limp across the room and snatch up the receiver and began to punch in the numbers, only to realize that the damn thing is as dead as a door knob. Hobbled back across the room, I slammed the cordless back on its charger and began the painful trip to my bedroom for the other phone. Of course, heading across the living room, I somehow manage to bump the magazine that was lying on the corner of the sofa table which in turn hits the half-full glass of cranberry juice that a certain man left there the night before, which proceeds to spill down the back of my brand new, cream color couch.
I, of course, do not notice this little piece of paradise right away. Oh no, I continue on my merry way towards the bedroom where I finally manage to find a phone that works.
I diligently call in and find out that the CEO of a major medical group facing federal racketeering charges and a multi million dollar lawsuit has decided that today of all days, he wanted to talk and had been sitting in my office since 8:00 a.m.
The scoop of the year and I am sitting on my bed with a lump the size of an orange on my foot, cranberry juice making a permanent mark on my sofa and carpet, and the beginnings of a tension headache tickling at the base of my skull.
Oh, but wait. It gets better.
After rummaging through my bathroom only to find I am out of anything resembling a pain reliever, I limp back towards the living room to gather my coat and purse from the closet and spot the juice mess. Twenty minutes of patting, mopping and swearing, I disgustedly toss the rags into the sink and head out the door.
Halfway across town, I hear a chiming begin to echo through my car. Looking down, I realize that I am almost out of gas and if I don't get some in a few miles, I am going to be walking.... or at least hobbling. Pull in the gas station, fill my car and decide I am going to go in to pay so I can get a cup of coffee. End up spending ten minutes in line while the guy ahead of me decides what numbers he wants on his lottery ticket.
Finally get the gas paid for and back in my car. Pull out of the gas station and some bozo runs the next light and I am forced to slam on my breaks to avoid him. The nice warm twelve ounce of one hundred percent Colombian coffee that I had just diligently bought rocked out of the cup holder and sprayed all over my right leg and car interior.
The only saving grace I could say at that particular moment was that at least I had on a dark pant suit that would hide the stain, and somehow, I didn't get slammed into while I was avoiding the other car. Hey, it was a bright spot in a day that hadn't been exactly a shining example of my life.
By some miracle, I finally managed to make it to the office without further incident. By this time, it is almost noon and the doctor waiting for me has changed his mind and left. The phone rings and I innocently answer it. Big mistake. It is the pressroom telling me that the main press has gone down and can't be fixed until a part is flown in from San Diego, which won't be until late afternoon. That means a long night and a whole bunch of overtime for even a prayer of having any sort of paper out the next morning.
The rest of the day was spent in endless meetings intermixed with frantic calls from various people trying to juggle and control things they had no control over. Nothing like a productive day like this one to make you want to get up and do it all over again the next day.
Please.
It was after seven when I finally hobbled back into my office and sank exhausted into my chair. Easing my poor foot onto an open file drawer, I am so pleased to realize that I have once again gone up the fruit chain and now have a grapefruit on my foot. I can no longer bend my ankle because of the swelling. Furthermore, I had stopped feeling my toes several hours earlier. I didn't dare take my shoe off. If I did that, I'd have to go home barefooted because there'd be no way to get it back on.
I was pondering if I would be less painful to amputate my foot now and get it over with when I spotted the message light on my phone flashing. Lovely, more messages about things I can do nothing about. Blithely, I reach over and pick up the receiver and punch in the code to listen to them. Notice I didn't say I was going to do anything about what I might hear.
Leaning back in my chair, I halfheartedly listened to the first seven before totally zoning out. Nothing was jumping at me that couldn't wait until tomorrow or the next day for that matter. That was until a familiar voice rang in my ear... a very irritated, familiar voice.
"Mary, where are you? Did you forget you were suppose to pick me up? Call me."
Springing straight up, I got that deer in the headlight look. Chris... shit. I was suppose to meet him at five. He was dropping off his truck at the shop for some work and was staying at my place again tonight. Damn it.
Tapping out the numbers, I held my breath waiting for him to answer. Instead of him, I got his voice mail. Lovely. Hope he got a hold of one of the guys to take him home. The only thing I could do was leave and swing by the shop to make sure he wasn't still sitting there. That, and keep trying to call him.
Managed somehow to drag my sore foot to the parking garage and into my car. It is only then that I realize that at some point in the afternoon, it had started to snow and there were now several inches coating all the roadways. Creeping along, I am trying to be extra careful as I again try to call Chris.
Okay, okay.... I know it wasn't the smartest move... using a cell phone while driving on slick streets. The only thing I can say is that I wasn't exactly thinking clearly. All I remember was that one moment I was trying to dial and the next I was spinning off the road watching as a telephone pole approached me at a rapid rate.
I am happy to report that I missed the telephone pole and instead slid into a ditch. Sitting there with the wipers diligently trying to push the still accumulating snow off my windshield, I was struck by the utter futility of the entire day. It had been a fiasco from minute one.
I lost it. Plain and simple.
I started to laugh my ass off until I could no longer catch my breath and tears were streaming down my face.
And that's exactly how the Denver police officer found me.
Thankfully, he recognized me and offered to take me to the nearest police station so I could call someone to come get me. From the looks he kept giving me, I think he was wondering if he should haul me to the nearest hospital instead. After all, it isn't every day that you have an apparently hysterical newspaper owner with a melon on her foot and who randomly laughs for no good reason in the backseat of your cruiser.
Thankfully, once we reached the station, the officer took it upon himself to find Chris. A couple phone calls and he was on his way. Seems he had called Vin to pick him up from the shop and they had just made it to my house. They were heading out right away to pick me up.
Bless them.
All I wanted was to go home, soak my poor foot and crawl into bed. Three hours later, after a slow ride home, a long explanation of my day, and making up the guest bedroom for Vin, that's exactly what I did.
Snuggling next to Chris, looking back on the day from hell and wondering how my guardian angels had managed to save me this time, I just hoped that tomorrow would be a better day.
Yeah... right.
the end.
P.S. In case you're wondering, I am happy to say that as of today, I have never slid into a ditch in a snow storm nor used my cell phone while driving on slick roads. Everything else... well, let's just say I used personal experience to draw upon for inspiration. <G>
February, 2002
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