Brickface, so called because in his younger days he had been accosted in the face by a brick, the brick leaving it's rectangular indentation on his face; left the bakery in a bit of a hurry. He had forgotten his wallet, you see, and needed to return to his office to retrieve it. Brickface was employed as a private investigator. As he rushed out, he caught sight of himself in the window, and thought to himself: "What a dashing fellow, in spite of that indentation"
At his office; he noticed, through the glass on the door, two men inside.
"Ah, excellent!" He exclaimed, shameless of his talking aloud. "Customers!"
He opened the door and saw, to his surprise that there were three men, one of whom was sitting in his chair behind his desk. Brickface was a bit miffed that the man would infringe on what he saw as his sovereign territory, and asked the man as much.
"Bumby don't like you asking questions." One of the men standing next to the desk said.
"And I don't much appreciate him sitting behind my desk." Brickface replied.
"Oh a wise guy." The man replied.
"While I do consider myself quite wise, I do not think myself exempt from the follies of humanity."
The two men began to roll up their sleeves, symbolic of a desire to engage in fisticuffs, when Bumby halted them with a gesture.
"I've got a job for you." He drawled.
"Very good sir, how may I be of assistance to you?"
"My daughter's dissapeared, I need you to find her."
After obtaining all available information from Bumby, and negotiating a payment that both parties felt appropriate, Brickface returned to the bakery. On the way he mused about fate, and its unpredictability. After all, had he remembered his wallet and not needed to go running back to his office, then Bumby and his boys would have gotten tired of waiting and left, procuring the services of another P.I. It's not as though Brickface was hurting for work, he just felt that this case would offer a little more in the way of adventure.
As he entered the bakery, noting the fresh scent of cinnemon rolls, which he hoped to soon consume, he took instant interest in the only other customer in the small store. "What luck!" He thought, restraining himself from letting a hearty "Huzzah!" erupt from his mouth. He checked the picture Bumby had given him to make doubly sure. It was her! Brickface practically skiped over to her.
"Excuse me miss, I was wondering if I might ask you a question?" He asked politely
She turned around and was speechless, trying as one would not to stare.
Brickface was used to this, and gently explained to her: "Ah yes, my countenance is somewhat shocking. But I mean you no harm, I was simply hit in the face with a brick as a youngster."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude." She said, somewhat taken back. "Does it hurt."
"Not anymore. I daresay that many days I forget it's even there! Now then, let's get down to brass tacks. Is your father Bumby?"
"Yes" She replied.
"Oh, jolly good. He's employed me to find you."
"Cool." She replied.
They left the store, Brickface forgetting what he had originally intending to go there for. Though it must be added that in all the excitement he had still forgotten his wallet.
As they left the store, a car screetched around the corner. Seeing Brickface and Bumby's daughter, the opened fire with submachine guns. Brickface tried to save her by pushing her into an alcove, but there was nothing he could do, she had taken too many bullets. Brickface had two in his shoulder, but she was dying. As he tried to pick her up and take her somewhere where a miracle could take place, the men left the car and knocked Brickface down. They kicked him in his side and his head. They stopped and exchanged high fives, then departed.
After he was sure that they were gone, Brickface picked himself up. He looked down and noticed his reflection in a puddle. His hair was disheveled, his scar more pronounced. And for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt the phantom pain of that brick, thrown at his head so many years ago.______________
This post is an installment in a continuing series of content coordinated by theme or motif with posts from Enoch Allred of Chiltingham, John Allred of clol Town, Jon Fairbanks of Funkadelic Freestylings of Another Sort, Eli Z. McCormick and Miriam Allred of Modern Revelation!, John D. Moore of Whatnot Studios, Joseph Schlegel of Sour Mayonnaise, Sven Patrick Svensson of Sadness? Euphoria?, and William C. Stewart of Chide, Chode, Chidden. This week's theme: 'Disfigurement'.