Truth Serum

"Honey, I'm home!" Alfred announced from the doorway.

There was no response. The white walls in the hall stared back at him in judgmental silence. Alfred closed the door and kicked off his shoes. Loosening his red tie, he walked forward to the kitchen where his wife usually was cooking up something irresistible. He could hear the water bubbling and a smile spread across his face. Hugging the wall, he crept up to the corner and jumped out into the kitchen. He stayed upright for a moment, before the slippery floor took him down. He crashed to the floor with a loud thud, landing mostly on his back.

"Ouch," Alfred strained to say.

He looked around and realized his wife wasn't there. Alfred picked himself up and pondered where she would be. She wouldn't have started food and not been here. The table was set for two and a covered saucepan was on the other burner. Maybe she was upstairs changing? Either way, he took this opportunity to sneak a peak at what she had in-store for him.

"Please be spaghetti!" Alfred said, lifting the saucepan cover to reveal a thicker white sauce. "Hot damn! Alfredo. What did I do to deserve a woman like you, Heather?"

Suddenly a muffled moaning came from downstairs. And not the good kind he was used to hearing. Without hesitation, Alfred sprung into action. He opened the pantry and plunged his hand into a box of Life Crunch cereal. When he removed his hand, he was holding a midnight black handgun, lightly dusted with crushed up flakes. It was Heather's idea to store a gun there in case of a burglary. Alfred had reservations about it at first, but mostly because she wanted to put it in his favorite cereal. Star Bangle Crunch cereal was a national treasure. A cereal that deserved the honor of being eaten, not used to store America's other favorite pastime.

Alfred rushed out of the kitchen and belted down the stairs. The basement was all cement walls and poured concrete floor. A single light dangled above the open space where an elderly man in a bright blue suit was tied to a rickety wood chair. Standing over the man, facing away from Alfred, was a woman with dark hair, wearing a faded white shirt and tight jeans. He didn't recognize the woman at all, until his eyes wandered down her body. He could recognize his wife's ass anywhere.

"Heather?" Alfred asked, hoping to confirm this strange woman wasn't his wife's butt double.

"Just one moment Alfred…" Heather said without turning around. "Alfred!"

Heather turned her back on the tied up man, trying to hide him from Alfred's view. Her hands were behind her back and she gave Alfred an innocent smile.

"Sweetie, I didn't realize you would be back so soon," Heather said.

"I...didn't realize you tied up old people in our basement."

"It's not what it looks like."

"It looks like you are interrogating a...politician?" Alfred said, leaning to get another look at the elderly man. The elderly man had a little American flag pin on his suit collar.

Heather shrugged. "Okay, it is what it looks like."

"Why are you–wait–what did you think it looked like to me?"

"Nothing," her voice got all high and seemed to cringe in pain for a brief moment.

"Heather."

"I didn't want you to think I was cheating on you."

"That never entered my mind. Look at him," Alfred said, gesturing to the elderly man.

Heather turned her head to look at the elderly man. Liquid was dripping from the leg of his soiled black pants. He was shaking in the chair, trying to talk through the cloth that covered his mouth. His mumbled words needed some major translating.

"Do you mind if I wrap this up? He is getting chatty again," Heather asked.

"You need to let him go."

"Just need five minutes. Then I will finish dinner and we can talk about this."

"No, I need some answers.”

"Give me two minutes."

Alfred put his hands on his hips. "This isn't a negotiation."

"One minute and we have sex after."

Alfred raised his eyebrows. His eyes stared into her, unwilling to relent to her tantalizing promises.

"Fine. You're right." Heather sighed. "You deserve to know why I tied this man up in our basement and was going to inject him with a truth serum."

"A truth serum?"

"Fuck. Why did I say that?" Heather said to herself.

"So is that what's behind your back?"

"Yes," Heather said, shaking her head in frustration. "Damn it!"

"Show me.”

Heather revealed the syringe that was stuck in her arm and half gone. She stared at it in horror, while Alfred laughed.

"Did you just stick yourself with your own truth serum?"

"Yes–I mean–yes. Argghh!" Heather said, unable to lie.

Alfred tucked the gun in his pants and rubbed his hands together. The smile on his face was even bigger than when he found out alfredo was on the menu.

"Okay, why are you interrogating him?"

"So I can take down the US government," Heather said before she could cover her mouth with her hands.

"Why on Earth would you do that?" Alfred asked.

Heather mumbled her answer, trying her best to not let go of her mouth. Alfred pried her hands away, releasing her truth to the world.

"So I can take over the planet and rule as the Goddess of Earth."

"Why would you want to do that? Sounds like a big hassle."

"I...actually...don't know why," Heather said, surprised by her own admission.

Alfred stepped up to her and took her hand. He removed the syringe from her arm and tossed it across the room. Brushing her hair aside, he gazed into her hazel eyes. His focus was singular and unfazed by her extreme plans.

"Heather. You don't need to be the ruler of the entire free world. To me, you are perfect the way you are now. The best wife a man could ever ask for. Ruler over my heart."

A tear ran from Heather's eye. "You really mean that?"

"I do. I wouldn't have married you if I thought any less of you."

"Even after this?" Heather sniffed.

Alfred looked over to the elderly man who was rocking his chair, trying to escape. He returned his gaze to her and winked. "I always knew you were a little weird."

"I am not," Heather said with a smile and a gentle push.

"Fine. Kidnapping a politician to gain world dominance is not weird–" Alfred said before his gurgling stomach interrupted him. "I'm starving. How about we eat?”

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. It will help this serum wear off."

"What are we going to do with him?" Alfred asked, motioning to the elderly man.

The elderly man crashed to the floor and smacked his head against the concrete below. He didn't move after that and Heather shrugged, "I'll make him a serum to forget the last 24 hours."

"You can make that?"

Heather nodded her head and sprinted for the stairs, hoping to outrun his next question.

"Did you ever use it on me?" Alfred called to her.

"Yes."

"Heather! When did–"

"If you finish that question, I'm throwing out the alfredo."

Alfred went up the stairs, but never finished the question. Her alfredo was way too good to pass up.

What a Date!

Quiet conversations blended together with the soothing sound of the piano that played in the middle of the dimly lit room. A waiter weaved between the tables in his darker than black suit and bow tie, arriving at a table of two who were lost in each other’s eyes.

“Lobster Thermidor and Lamb Shank,” the waiter said, placing their meals in front of them.

“Thank you. If it isn’t too much trouble, can we get another glass of wine for the lady?” the man asked the waiter.

“Certainly Sir,” the waiter said and left them.

The woman took her napkin and placed it over her lap, to protect her scarlet dress. “Kenneth, if I didn’t know any better you are trying to get me drunk?”

“Of course not. I saw that your glass is getting low and the lobster is best with something red.”

The woman swirled the wine in her glass and downed it in one fast shot, staring straight into his brown eyes after, which dilated for a split second.

“You didn’t expect me to do that, did you?” she said, brushing her light brown hair away from her ear, revealing a dangling diamond earring.

“You are full of surprises, Gwen.”

“You have no idea.”

They had just begun to take their first bites, before three masked men with guns started slinking in from the far side of the room. Silverware clattered against plates and a woman screamed upon seeing the armed men. The music stopped and before people could scatter a gunshot went off.

“Everybody stay where you are! If you run, you die!” one of the masked men said.

The other two weaved around the tables, clearly looking for someone in particular. Kenneth drew his Walther PPK from his jacket while Gwen drew her Glock from her purse when the two masked men got close. The two masked men pointed their guns at them, surprised that two civilians would be armed at such a fancy place.

“Drop your weapons. I would hate to ruin a perfectly good date on the count of you two,” Kenneth said.

“He said drop them, scumbags!” Gwen said, standing up and toward the armed men with purpose.

Kenneth did a double take, realizing she was armed. “Gwen, you have a gun?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing?”

“I live a dangerous life. Fine art collections can get a little...complicated, but you? Do you even work for the State Department?”

“I thought it was obvious. Every spy who ever lived says they work for the State Department. Haven’t you watched a movie?” Gwen responded.

“I figured that was only in the movies. And that spies in real life wouldn’t be so drop dead gorgeous,” Kenneth said, a little frantic.

Before Gwen could fawn over Kenneth’s charming words, a gunshot went off behind them along with more feminine screams. Kenneth and Gwen turned their heads around to see the third mask man standing next to a large bald man who was slumped over the table, blood seeping into the white tablecloth.

“He’s dead. Let’s go!” the masked man said, taking a picture with his phone to confirm the kill.

By the time Kenneth and Gwen turned their heads back to their more immediate threat, two more gunshots went off. They both fell to the floor, holding their stomachs’. The three masked men ran off, leaving Kenneth and Gwen on the floor, laying on their side facing each other.

“I...didn’t expect the date to end like this,” Kenneth said, coughing up blood.

“Me neither,” Gwen said, straining from the pain.

“If we get out of this...I would like...to see you again.”

“Me too.”

Kenneth slid his hand across the floor, smearing blood in the carpet. She grabbed onto his hand with a weak grip. A crowd of people surrounded them while someone dialed 911. The waiter kneeled beside them to render aid.

“I see we have a couple of heroes. I hope you two learned your lesson,” the waiter said, putting pressure on Kenneth’s wound.

“What was that supposed to be?” Kenneth asked, straining from the pain.

“Don’t be a hero? I thought it was obvious.”