“Good evening. By now, you know know what I need, and you are well aware of my intentions if you do not comply. Call 665-87A35. The rest will be taken care of”.
Jack had found the odd slip stapled to the inside of his doors around 4 o’clock on cool and calm Saturday afternoon.
He knew what it was about, he wanted it more than anything he had possessed in his 39 years of existence. But Jack Sampson wasn’t one to give into the demands of terrorists.
Of course Jack knew this was a extraordinary situation and it called for extraordinary measures. “What kind of sicko does this? This isn’t a joke,” Jack muttered to himself.
Jack grabbed the note and picked up his phone to dial the number on the thin sheet of paper.
“Roaring Tiger, this is Raj speaking, how may I assist you?” the friendly voice said.
Jack finally answered after a long pause, “I’ll have two orders of butter chicken and two veggie samosas please. Make it hot”.
He wasn’t sure if it was from the embarrassment or from the curries, but Jeff was red in the face that night.
“That’s the last time I’ll wait so long,” Jack said. His wife responded “Next time, you take this long to order, there won’t be a letter,”.