#Shrrk!!
Mr. Cake that over time I noticed, never felt tired. I doubt this person is human. Even on this tiring night, he still managed to turn the pages of the newspaper he bought this morning. His brain was still open to catch new things, while enjoying his tea. Not at all visible wrinkles, tired or sleepy though.
Just as I was clearing all the tables, I noticed that the bottom was covered in chewing gum. One place full booking by guests at certain hours is very profitable. The problem is that some of these intellectual bodies are just too lazy to do small things, like throwing gum away. If I have to say it out loud, I'm so sick of this. One package sucks, not only exhausting but disgusting. Like picking up chewing marks and saliva in the form of abstract lumps with unimaginable textures.
“The man responsible for the deaths of three people is free after three years of detention. One life for one year!” said Mr. Cake aloud read the contents of the newspaper.
I, who had been slamming my body on the table, slowly started to wake up.
"They think it's math, huh?" he chirped then firmly shook his head in disapproval.
My body approached him out of curiosity. I checked the contents of the newspaper so that my slightly sleepy eyes could get the same thing as Mr. Cake read. His finger immediately showed me what I wanted to know. It was just below the news that london was hit by a torrential downpour. Of course, today is colder than yesterday.
More clearly about the news, Peregrine Ulric, 28 years old, the perpetrator for the murder of three people, namely, his father, stepmother, and half-sister. There are also posters with pictures of his face and body.
“This man is sleepy, just like me.” Unconsciously yawning, I swept my eyes.
Mr. Cake pleaded, his hand motions told me to go to sleep immediately. I myself can't believe that today is that late. I'm not even interested in taking a shower first and want to go straight to bed. Until the moment my right foot touched the surface of the stairs, our door, which had been closed with the rolling door, was knocked loudly.
"We are closed, please come tomorrow!" replied Mr. Cake to someone who is not in our routine shop open he knocks on the door instead. I looked at the clock, it was 22:30.
Instead of giving up, the knocking pause was getting smaller, “He-help me!' replied the person in a panic.
#Shrrk!!
Mr. Cake folded the newspaper. We looked at each other with confused faces. I reluctantly headed towards the source of the sound. Turn the rolling door lock, pull it up, then turn the front door lock. I who feel weak, body that feels sore, plus my eyes that hold the valve very heavy pull the handle slowly.
"Kyaaaaah!!" loud and shrill screams.
Unprepared, my skin jumps. I spontaneously pushed myself back.
A person covered in thick red liquid, right hand holding a sharp knife dripped the same liquid. The scariest part was his face. Looks like the one I read from the newspaper just a few seconds ago.
“He-help me! P-please don't be afraid!” He slowly stepped, dripping liquid right on our shop floor.
Of course I'm moving in the opposite direction! I mean who's that idiot with a sharp knife who says that and his opponent will obey? I started imagining horror movie scenes.
Mr. Cake immediately pulled me back. His hands swiftly and quickly took a small revolver from his cash register drawer.
"Do not move! I can make holes in your temples, forehead or teeth if that's necessary!” The gun point was calm as if the hand of Mr. Cake is like a machine that definitely doesn't go wrong.
The seconds settle for a moment, as if time had stopped for a moment...\
Fortunately the man began to obey. Slowly but hesitantly, he put the knife on the floor and raised his hands. His face looked like he was about to cry and frustrated, his eyes twitched, his mouth trembled in doubt.
Mr. Cake’s feet quickly kickws the knife and pulled it to the farthest position from the man. Mr. Cake was a far cry from the one I knew, flirtatious and cheerful, now his gaze was blank and serious. He told the man to turn and crouch. Mr. eyes Cake squinted, his eyeballs moving for a split second in all directions. In an instant he searched around the man. It didn't last long because this guy was only wearing a black polo shirt and white shorts.
“Feline, call the police!”
“W-wait! P—p-please, l-listen to me first!” the man pleaded rather stammering.
But the hands of Mr. Cake was still holding his revolver which restricted his movement. I immediately grabbed the telephone’s handle from behind the cashier counter.
Mr. Cake told him to speak as clearly and quickly as possible.
“I-I… just now, but not sure…. But s-she, my lover, the same as I dreamed of…”
"What are you talking about?" point-of-hand Mr. Cake seemed to give him a strong intimidation.
He grew scared.
"Th-that's why... my girlfriend died..." he added, pointing to the knife that had been kicked some distance from him. “Th-with that! T-the moment I woke up! I might be the culprit!”
His breath hitched. I just realized that not only thick red liquid, but also sweat dripping down his entire body. But I've already put the telephone’s handle back.
“Police-Senior Superintendent Chad will be here in a few minutes. H-he also received the same report."
Then Mr. Cake told me to bring a glass and a mineral water dispenser. I put it on the table carefully. But I feel safe at Mr. Cak’s pointing hand at him that locks the sudden action. Our position with the man carrying the sharp object was ten meters apart.
“Monsieur Ulric, your name is in The Times newspaper. You bothered to come here, confessing the heinous act against your lover. Then you had a dream?” asked Mr. Cake who at least thought I was.
The man whose name was on the newspaper started to calm down a bit after drinking a glass of mineral water.
“Y-yes that's how it is! This is not what I want. That's why I'm afraid that if I dream like that again, I will kill other people!” he said aloud.
Mr. Cake spun the loaded cylinder, then cocked it to give the impression that he was ready to pull the trigger.
"Then why don't you just confess to the police? Who told you to come here?” asked Mr. Cake is firmer than before.
With another feeling of dread, he again explained that his position was completely incomprehensible. He just wanted to confirm whether it was true that the dream could become a reality to the point of killing people?
"If it's true and logical, I'm willing to give myself up. If necessary, I will be hanged without going through the Supreme Court." His expression full of commitment, his tone reassuring. “Someone whispered this place to me. He said that person had a solution.”
The sound of a car approaching and stopping right outside our place. But Mr. Cake still didn't want to lower the point. Someone quickly opened the door.
"Mr. Ulric, I guess you have thought things through carefully before taking action again!” Superintendent Chad quickly put the handcuffs on the man. "I was surprised that the perpetrator ran away. Good thing someone reported. How can this man be in this place?”
Mr. Cake with a relieved face lowered the gun. He explained to Mr. Chad.
"Where did you get the report?"
Mr. Chad told his subordinates to take the man to the detention car.
“Chaffinch Walk, Cambourne, South Cambridgeshire. By the way, the victim was stabbed many times right in the heart, what a poor woman. Several of my subordinates are guarding there. You better confirm with your own two eyes.”
Mr. Cake certainly didn't force me to join, but right now my curiosity was more dominant than tiredness. We did not linger - and immediately locked back our place. Don't forget that the knife has also been stored in a special container for carrying.
"Superintendent Chad, please don't take Mr Ulric to the police station just yet, I want to ask a few things."
The man in a brown coat with a height of 1.8 meters and a thick black mustache nodded. In the car, before driving the black sedan, he lifted from his slightly shabby coat pocket a handy talky.
"Folks, don't let them go home just yet."
#Brrm! Brrm!
ns 18.68.41.137da2
