Twenty Buck Chuck

The spritely footsteps indicate it is Spiderman even before I see the silhouette of his tiny masked head outlined on my door. He bursts in without knocking-- very unprofessional.

“Rhino at the casino. I need your best work, Chuck. Now!”

“Best work?” As if I ever did anything but my best work. “Okay.”

“Come on!”

“Can’t rush genius, kid.” He is the worst of them. At least the older superheroes have some patience. I grin. “You shoulda kept running, ‘cause your luck just ran out.”

“Perfect!” He drops a twenty on my desk and runs out.

I hate my job.

The End