Regina’s Toy Wasn’t From Hasbro, Was It?
I stumbled into the office one morning after a noteworthy evening with my handsome gentleman friend from Russia. My close co-worker friends followed suit until we were nestled in our assigned desk seats. Shelly, Joann, Regina and I laughed over cups of coffee at the outlandish adventures experienced the night prior. The four of us lived on-site, per one of the employees’ perks of working for DeadWood Apartments.
As a leasing consultant for a 762-unit property in San Francisco, California, I was prepared for anything. After all, in the land of peace and love beads, the sky’s the limit.
As a 30-year-old in-the-know single woman, I heard it all, knew it all and secretly told it all. However, I always changed the names to protect the not-so-innocent.
Regina’s face became solemn as she described what had been happening in her apartment since late Friday night. Shelly, Joann and I put down our coffee cups to listen as Regina relayed a most terrifying situation taking place in her unit as we sipped.
Regina quietly alerted us to the fact our apartment complex had old electrical wiring and could cause an eruption at a moments’ notice. The wires in her unit buzzed non-stop and had her terrified. She couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned all the while the incessant noise next to her tender ears continued.
Shelly, Joann and I hung on Regina’s words with bated breath as we internally became detectives on Regina’s behalf. It wasn’t long before the Columbo in me came to Regina’s rescue. “Security and maintenance must be alerted at once!” Quickly, I dialed Frank, the head of maintenance, and told him about the threat in Regina’s apartment. I hung up the telephone and alerted Joe, the head of security. It wasn’t long before the two-team posse arrived at the head office.
Frantically, we four Charlie’s Angels told Frank and Joe about the monster in Regina’s apartment. We told the men we were certain there was either a short in the electrical wiring or a bad guy had been hiding with a bazooka.
Frank and Joe asked Regina to accompany them to her apartment so she could guide them to the horrific disturbance. Regina walked out the door and looked longingly over her shoulder at her compadres. The three of us gave her a thumb’s up and mouthed, “Be brave, Buckaroo.”
The minutes crept into an hour. Joann, Shelly and I wondered, “What in the world could be happening?! What happened in Regina’s apartment? Would they live to tell?” Shortly thereafter, Regina returned to the leasing consultant office with a look on her face I can’t describe to this day. It was almost as if she had her tail between her legs.
She sheepishly looked at the three supportive co-worker friends with her big brown eyes slightly downward. I could tell the pain in her eyes was too much to bear. I jumped up from my desk and put a loving hand on her shoulder. Quietly, I asked, “Regina, what did Frank and Joe find in your apartment? Were they able to take care of the monster troubling you? Are you out of harm’s way? You can tell us. After all, we’re your closest friends. You poor, precious, tender baby. Let us guide you through this fire. There, there now. We’ll find you a safe apartment.”
Regina’s massive brown eyes lifted and gazed into my big, blue eyes. Beads of perspiration glistened her beautiful brown complexion. Lines of worry rested on her framed, black eyebrows. After an eternal 20 seconds of silence, Regina spoke in a fragile tone. “Um, hey you guys. I don’t know how to tell you this. Joe found the culprit hiding in my nightstand. The ferocious monster was bouncing all over the drawer when he opened it.” “WHAT?”, I gasped. “Was it poisonous gas?”
“No, it wasn’t poisonous gas. It wasn’t a frayed electrical wire from a socket. It was my toy. It had been bouncing off the sides of my nightstand. It was on high. Joe picked it up and held it for Frank and me to see. I could have died. I can never face them again.”
Although Regina’s discovery was cringe-worthy, I offered my finest response, “Hey, listen. This sort of thing happens every day. In fact, I already suspected this would be your outcome. I read about it countless times. I mean, it’s so . . . overrated. Let it go.”
The four of us sat at our desks quiet as mice. In no time flat, however, the front door opened and in walked Joe, the head security guard who discovered the monster in Regina’s nightstand. With his sparkling brown eyes and tiny beads of sweat on his brow, he sincerely asked, “Mz. Regina. May I have the pleasure of your company this Friday evening for dinner?” Joe had his Mister Fix-It belt on and was up for any challenge in Regina’s boxing ring.
Regina’s beautiful smile engulfed Joe’s heart and she coyly responded, “You bet, Joe. As long as you fix my toys- even though they’re not from Hasbro.
