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Rated: GC · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2214993
An old story I wrote which seems to fit in the world right now.
The Easiest Job

You chased him for four hundred metres or so, making sure you were slow enough to let the thief get away, but fast enough to lose your breath and make it look as though you really did chase hard. Puffing and panting, you placed your hands on your knees and leaned forward as you got your breath back.
As you regained your ability to breath again and starred at the same corner the thief had rounded, a tall thin man in a tracksuit and baseball cap turned onto the same street as you. He was carrying a rucksack that was the same size, colour and brand as the one the thief had, just a moment ago, run off with.
"I think this is yours, mate," the tall man said inconsequentially to you and then he headed off along the busy pavement, minding his own business, without giving you the chance to thank him. Not caring about giving thanks to the man anyway, you turned and walked off in t he same direction you were headed before being robbed. This was not your bag and you knew it, the man had given you a bag that only looked like yours.
In this new bag was one hundred thousand pounds, to do with, whatever you wish. The bag also contained the suit that you promised to wear.
A payment to be robbed and then become eccentric. One hundred thousand pounds for nothing.
Not a bad deal.

It was earlier in the day when I first met y ou in my small unofficial box-room that I call my office. You called me after reading my so-called job advertisement in a Sunday newspaper. In fact, although you were already employed, it was the idea of earning tax-free cash that won you over. Moonlighting is bad, as is avoiding your tax payments but this made no difference to you. Tis small piece of ignorance it what made me decide to give you the job.
I told you what to do, very simple instructions, you were not to stray from these rules or the one hundred thousand pounds would go elsewhere. The rules were:

Take the bag and be careless with it, get it robbed.
Make it look as though you really care about your bag.
Do not look in the bag under any circumstances.
Wait in the place of theft for your money.
Wear the suit for three days after the theft.

End of rules. Easy to follow? Yes of course. I would know if you broke any of them because I am always observing through that modern technology called CCT. This is how I will know where and when you are robbed.
I will never meet you again and you will never see or hear from me again but, the pleasure in the business was all mine.

He ran up behind you, seeing how you stood not paying attention to the bag carelessly place to your side while you read your newspaper. Ever the opportunist, the thief snatched up the backpack and continued at full speed without slowing during his smash and grab mission. As you chased he looked over his shoulder and thought about how half heartedly you were chasing and pushed the thought aside because maybe you were just unfit. It didn't take long until he was looking back over his shoulder at the faces that obviously didn't know he had stole the bag so he slowed and rounded a corner from the main street. This was at the same time as you were puffing and panting as if you had run an olympic marathon. He slowed down to a jog and then headed to the next bus stop knowing his bus would be there very soon.
The thief arrived home, rucksack in hand and opened his surprise package. Inside was a sealed plastic bag. He opened the red plastic bag and inside it again was another sealed plastic bag, this time transparent. He could see it contained a sheet of paper, a blank piece of plain white A4 paper.
In his frustration, he ripped open the plastic bag and scanned the paper.
Blank, empty, clear, nothing on it at all.
The thief cursed and threw the paper in his waste paper basket where his baby brother would soon spill it to the floor, where his mother would pick it up and move it to another bin. This other bin would split and the blank piece of paper would spill onto the street, where it would blow around in the wind, rubbing against dogs and cats. It will hit lampposts, car doors and houses before finally landing in the rainwater drainage system under the city.
The next morning, the thief will have unbearable pain as the skin on his hand and his arms is eaten away by the new super virus, which I, using you, have unleashed into an unknowing world. Anybody that comes into contact with anything the virus has spread to from the paper will be eaten alive by the bug. Eaten from the point the virus made contact with the skin and then it will reproduce, more and more of the bacteria eating at you until, in abot a week, you have rotted alive and have become nothing but a walking corpse.
So, I advise you to wear the suit I have given you.

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