Allen approached the office building of H.I.S. In his hand was a venti iced caramel macchiato with an added shot and extra whip from Moonbucks coffee.

Inside the reception area of the building, Delores was wrapped at her desk in a new novel: Dawn Whispers; a romance novel where a woman named Dawn has a wild fling with an entity that can only see her in the golden hour of morning and evening. All the while, she is working to secure a merger that could save her company. Delores turned to a new chapter as Allen approached the desk.

“Morning Delores,” said Allen as he scanned his badge.

Delores gave a slight nod as a gesture of acknowledgement, but she didn’t break from her pace. She clicked for the elevator door to open and Allen entered. Once the elevator door closed, Delores scanned the room to make sure she was alone. Once the coast was clear, she reached from under her desk and pulled out a flask. She took a quick swig from the metal vessel of bliss and relaxed further into her chair.

Down in the office, Allen approached his desk. He sat down at him computer and noticed his mouse was missing, making the computer unusable. On his keyboard, all the vowel keys were also removed. He opened his desk drawer, thinking that maybe Hugh, Carlos, George, or one of the other guys in the office were putting him through a prank. Opening the drawer, he noticed that something else was missing, something far more important, his favorite revolver wasn’t in its hidden emergency compartment.

“What are you up to Allen?” asked a voice from behind.

Allen jumped in a brief moment of startle and panic.

“Shit, Hugh, did you move my stuff?” asked Allen.

Hugh let out a small laugh, “No, but Carlos was asking around for you, and I thing I saw George rummaging through your desk.”

Allen released a sigh and stood back up from his desk. Across the office he could see George in the break room, but Carlos was unaccounted for. Walking across the office to the breakroom, Allen approached George.

“George, my guy, did you go to my desk this morning?”

George looked at Allen and raised an eyebrow. He was making his best effort not to smile. “Oh Allen, hey. Yeah, I went to your desk earlier looking for a spoon. I know you tend to eat at your desk so I thought you might have some silverware.”

“What did you need the silverware for?”

“Oh to make some Jell-O,” said George as he moved over to the fridge and opened the door. “Luckily the barrel of your revolver made for a great spoon to stir.”

Allen pulled out a massive bowl of Jell-O. He set it over a plate and removed it. Center, surrounded by red in the center of the gelatin, was Allen’s revolver.

“Yeah, I accidently dropped it though. Didn’t want to get my hands sticky reaching in though. So, you know, we’ll get it out eventually.” George laughed.

Allen, wasn’t amused, but he didn’t want to start anything in the office. He let out a fake, friendly laugh and smile. “Oh… that’s a good one.”

George patted him on the back and handed him a spoon.

“The cherry will go great with your coffee there,” chuckled George.

Allen grabbed the plate of Jell-O and returned to his desk. He began to scoop away at the gelatin to get his firearm back. George and a couple of his office buddies were having a laugh in the breakroom.

Once the firearm was free from its gelatinous prison, Allen began to take it apart to clean. All the sugar was bad for the chamber and metal finish. Hugh returned to Allen’s cubicle.

“Sorry about the revolver man, here’s your mouse and vowel keys back for your computer.” He said handing Allen the computer parts.

“Where did you find these?”

“I had a word with Carlos. Let him know that this petty pranking shit isn’t going to fly anymore. Might’ve thrown him around a bit too, but that’s not the point.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Well, thanks man.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Hugh returned to his nearby desk. Allen thought of what he said the other night, that he should try to act more like his drunken-self. Just because Hugh told Carlos that the prank shenanigans were over, didn’t mean that Allen wasn’t going to retaliate. He had enough of the pranks, headlocks, and belittlement. As one of the older hitmen in the office, with what surely had to be the highest kill count, he wasn’t going to let it slide anymore.

Later in the morning, George got up to go to the restroom. When he left, Allen crept over to his cubical. He took a bottle of military grade SPF (Spray Polyurethane Foam) and implemented it to the small gaps in the wheels of his office chair. The foam was made so that agents could make platforms and walls on the fly depending on the nozzle used. The top-secret foam was strong enough to take the impact of a handful of bullets if placed thick enough. This installation made George’s chair permanently locked into place.

Allen then returned to the break room. He grabbed Carlos’s lunch bag that was marked in the fridge. While nobody was looking, he took the lunch bag outside of the office. Around the backside of the office, there was a known wasp nest. Allen took a small paper cup and trapped a few underneath as they grazed in the cracks of the cement. He used a piece of paper to transfer the cup into the lunch bag. Once the bag was reclosed, he pinched around the cup, lifted it, and laid it on its side; now the wasps were free in the bag.

Allen returned to his desk with the lunch bag. He used tape to wrap it shut. As he walked back to the break room, he passed by Carlos.

“Allen, is that my lunch?” Carlos asked confused.

“Awe jeez Carlos. I had heard from Hugh that you stole my vowel keys and mouse, so I thought it would be funny to tape up your lunch.”

Carlos laughed and grabbed the lunch bag, “You’re a funny guy Allen.” Carlos began to walk away with his lunch, “But Hugh got us good, because he stole my computer parts this morning too. Tried to pin it on you, but I know you’re above such a silly prank.”

A pit grew in Allen’s stomach, “What do you mean…”

“Hugh stole your stuff and tricked you, my dude. He also gave George the idea to put your revolver in Jell-O. It’s all good though, taping up my lunch isn’t a big deal.”

Allen began to sweat profusely. He turned and looked across the office. George had returned from his elongated bathroom break and went to slide into his office chair. The wheels remained locked and the momentum from George caused the chair to fall over. George rolled with the chair into the cubical wall which was knocked over, falling into Esteban.

Esteban was a recently acquired hitman from H.I.S.’s Mexico division. His English was sparse, but his giant 6’8 280-pound frame made sure that the guys were super nice and patient with him; especially due to his short temper.

“Awe, what the fuck,” said George. He had taken most of the hit through his shoulder. He noticed Esteban underneath the cubical wall with his chair.

“Tú estás muerto, Jorge,” said Esteban as he grunted to push the wall and chair off of him.

Allen felt guilt pour over him as he watched the scene unfold. Esteban grabbed George by the collar and threw him into the copying machine. A few of the other hitmen in the office tried to provoke further fighting, but a few others stepped in to break it up. As it cleared up, Allen turned to warn Carlos about the wasps. He was so distracted, that the real prank on Carlos had slipped his mind; but when Allen turned back around, Carlos was gone.

“Fuck! Allen!” Carlos yelled from the break room.

He had opened the bag and the wasps flew out in a fit of rage. They stung Carlos on the arm and neck. Allen saw the chaos unfolding and slowly slithered back to his cubical.

From across the office, Hugh was laughing by the water cooler. He watched the series of events unfold.

Despite everything that had happened, George and Carlos didn’t approach Allen for the rest of the day. Allen was tense for the remainder of the day, waiting for the retribution that never came. Once the evening arrived, Allen logged out of his computer and left the office.

Outside in the parking lot, George and Carlos were waiting for him at his car. George was holding a can of SPF.

“Hey guys,” said Allen hesitantly.

The two didn’t smile upon Allen’s appearance.

“I was going to foam your van Allen,” George admitted.

“Yeah, and I was going to put wasp venom in your coffee to give you itchy throat and soreness,” said Carlos.

“And… you aren’t because you realized how good of friends we are, and that we are too old for such silly pranks.”

George glanced down at the can. “Hell no, I’ll get back at you eventually–“

“–And so will I,” interrupted Carlos.

“But we just wanted to let you know. We’re coming for you, eventually.”

Allen knew he was going to have to look over his shoulder and be even more stressed at work. The two men walked away from the van toward their own parked cars.

“What about Hugh?” asked Allen.

Carlos turned around, “Oh don’t worry about him. We’ve already done what we needed to in order to pay him back.”

Carlos and George entered their vehicles and drove off for the night. Allen entered his type 2 van. As he climbed in, he noticed a sticky substance was placed on his headrest. Probably a revenge prank from Carlos. While annoying, Allen would be able to clean it up when he returned home. He just couldn’t lean back while driving.

It had been a long day and he was exhausted. Allen placed the key into the ignition and gave it a twist. Upon starting, the front of the vehicle made a strange rattling noise.

Allen leaned forward in an attempt to listen, when suddenly, the airbag went off. It pounded him in the face. The force knocked off his glasses and he banged his head on the headrest.

With Allen’s glasses on the floor, his vision was heavily impaired. He attempted to lean back forward so he could reach down and grab them, but the back of his head was now stuck on the headrest. The sticky, glue-like substance had trapped him in place.

Allen let out a frustrated laugh, for that was all he could do.

“Fuck,” he sighed.