Ransom Note - Greg

25 Aug 2007
Prompt: Write a story that begins with a ransom note.

I typed out the first ransom note on my mother's old Royal Typewriter and brought it to The Rat who sat hunched over the wooden coffee table covered with maps, diagrams, scenarios and plans for the kidnaping. He glanced at the note and began talking about an old episode of Mannix where the forensic scientist had told the iron-jawed private eye that every typewriter was as unique as a human fingerprint. Then he crumpled up the note and told me to do it over again.

I returned later with a new note, from my Mom’s new Epson Inkjet printer. He took one glance and pointed, “Look, there’s a black mark in the upper left hand corner. This can still identify us. Do it again,” he said, tossing it in the garbage with the other.

I drove to the local library and printed a new copy and brought it back. “It’s from the library?” he asked, annoyed. “They’ll know what town we’re in. Do it again.”

This happened several more times. Ink pen: “They’ll identify the handwriting.” Ink pen with block letters: “The can identify the pressure from the pen tip.” Ink pen left handed: “Will you get off handwriting thing!” he said.

I picked up some old magazines I had subscribed to, cut out words and letters: “You cut these out of Poet’s & Writer Magazine?” he said incredulously. “Yeah, so?” “So who subscribes to that? They’ll identify the font, they’ll go down the subscriptions list and they’ll be knocking on the door in 10 minutes. Use your damn head!”

I went to the supermarket and bought a Time magazine. I put on plastic gloves and meticulously cut and pasted together the ransom note before bringing it to him. I explained my precautions and he began to read nodding his head in approval. Then it stopped. “You freakin’ spelled ransom wrong! It’s not ‘random!’ You don’t demand a ‘random’ of $25,000, you stupid moron! Are you retarded? Do it again!”

The Rat returned to his plans on the table and I pulled out the snub nose and shot him in the back of the head. The kidnappee, who sat tied and gagged to a wooden chair, jerked and his eyes filled with terror. I dragged him and the chair behind The Rat, cut loose one of his arms, and shoved the snub nose in his hand. “Shoot him” I said, and the man grunted and shook his head. I grabbed his face and repeated seriously, “Shoot him.” The man, his eyes filling with tears raised the wobbly gun and fired, hitting instead the television across the room. The gun dropped to the floor. “Good enough,” I said picking up my bag and the collection of crumpled ransom notes. “You escaped from your bounds, grabbed the gun and shot the kidnapper in the head. You’re a hero.

"And I," I said walking out the door, “am out of the kidnapping business.”