Got Milk?
By R.A. Jetter
The flight attendant sure gave me a strange look, Martin thought, boarding the plane. Hasn’t she ever seen anyone with a briefcase chained to their wrist? He settled back in Seat 11C, next to the window. Pulling the briefcase to his lap, he relived what had just transpired, realized how disheveled he must look and how unclean he felt. A little fresh water on his face would help, the bathroom was empty, he’d clean up.
Entering the narrow enclosure the briefcase was placed on the counter. He reached for the lock. The door slammed shut and caught his coat. The briefcase banged to the floor.
“Someone’s going to hear,” he mumbled, slowly pulling the coat past the door’s edge until it stuck. Perhaps it would be wise to check the contents of my case, make sure my formula is safe. In his excitement he’d neglected to when he got the correct case back. Should be OK, never tried to open the other case. They would have no reason to open theirs. “Oh-oh, I just thought of something,” Martin said timidly, fishing for the key. “They were paging me. How could they know my name? It’s not on the outside of either case. My name is on one of those little [Property of:] tags… inside the lid! It had to be opened!”
Opening the briefcase, he cautiously moved each piece of paper until he found the logoed white, open-ended catalog envelope.
“No. No, no, no.” Martin screamed, pounding his fist on the door. “This can’t be. It just can’t be.” Searching through the papers again, he tossed them all over the lavatory. At the bottom, he found it, with a piece of embossed stationery stapled to it. “What’s this?”
The flight attendant knocked on the door. “Are you alright?”
Martin flopped down onto the toilet seat, the suit coat didn’t follow. It ripped. He sobbed uncontrollably. Tears streamed from his eyes, glasses fogged. “I’ve worked hard, this just isn’t fair!”
The hand-written note was illegible. It took several tissues to wipe away tears before the words cleared. He recognized the name on the expensive letterhead: William Edison Westbrook, Director; Research & Development, Legerdemain Milk Company. The note read: “Martin, the formula for addicting children and young adults to milk you have so carefully stolen from the company is bogus. I now have the correct formula again. I was afraid something like this would happen, so I had to protect it by circulating a phony formula throughout the company. Not one of the cereal companies will pay you a cent for the formula you now have. You and I both know the correct formula is worth millions and that formula is now safely locked in my briefcase…the very briefcase you had all afternoon. At this very minute, I am on another plane, on my way to meet my contact and negotiate a deal… it’s my money. All of it… for myself! I intend to live happily ever after! Have a nice flight.”