The One With The Ghost Pepper

                                    

                                          
  
                          
     Mr. Volkolv stared at me with an astonished and strange expression.
                          
    "Really?" He asked, "Why?"
                          
    I cleared my throat uncomfortably, reaching up and placing my hair behind my ear. 
                          
    "I don't want to talk about it." I never spoke about my depression, it was behind me. I got over it and I did not want to delve back into it. 
                          
    He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees, and putting his chin on his fist.
                          
    "I won't judge. I swear." Frowning at him, I fiddled with the bottom of my sweater.
                          
    "Why are you being so weird about it?" I asked, once again folding my arms, "I thought you hated me or something."  
                          
    He frowned. "Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I don't want to know about you. And besides, I'm bored." 
                          
    That made absolultely no sense. If you didn't like a person that generally means that you don't care for that person. Mr. Volkolv was a wack job, a crazy bipolar man who acted one way than said another.  
                          
     And he wanted to hear about a terrible part of my life because he was bored?
                          
    I gritted my teeth. "You know what? I don't care about you, so screw it. I'm just your caretaker and I don't give a crap about why you do what you do." 
                          
    "What if I cared about you just a little bit? After all, you do make the food I eat. I wouldn't want you to poison it because you thought I was mean," he smirked.
                          
    Oh, God. I hated guys who 'smirked.' The word itself was just so annoying. It sounded weird and was just a weird name for a half-assed smile.
                          
     But I had to admit though, it looked hella rad on Adrian. 
                          
    "Maybe I already poisoned you, maybe I put arsenic in your breakfast," I snapped while mentally singing the 'He had it coming' verse from Cell Block Tango. God, I wish I had put arsenic in his drink.
                          
    "We both know you didn't; I would have been dead by now if you had. Besides, if I die you'll be fired," he says with a dark smile.
                          
    "It would have been worth it," I muttered. I stomped out of the living room and into the kitchen, ready to start preparing his lunch.
                          
    "Should I be worried?" He called out.
                          
    Ignoring him, I took turkey slices out of the fridge, along with other ingredients to make cold cut sandwiches.  
                          
    I placed the turkey onto the bread slices, adding a few extra to mine since I liked turkey and wanted to waste Mr. Volkolv's money. I added some salt and paprika, but then an idea struck me.
                          
    Mr. Volkolv had been nothing but mean to me, and I thought he needed a wake up call. Just because his legs are gone doesn't mean that he had the right to me a pompous ass.
                          
    Okay, maybe he was entitled to being a little bit bitchy.
                          
    But anyways, this was more for my entertainment purposes than for revenge.
                          
   I took the salt and unscrewed the cap, and continued to pour the container's contents all over the turkey. Walking over to the fridge, I pulled the door open and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out a ghost pepper from a plastic bag.     
                          
    There were gloves in the cabinet underneath the sink, and I pulled them on before cutting the peppers into tiny little pieces and mixing it into the mayonnaise of Mr. Volkolv's sandwich. I made sure to put a lot. 
                          
     It wasn't arsenic, but it would do.
                          
     
                          
           "WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?!" A red, blotchy faced Mr. Volkolv screamed.  
                          
        "H-how was I supposed to know you were a-allergic to ghost p-peppers?" I stuttered back, truly afraid of the demon that was in front of me.
                          
        Apparently, he was somewhat allergic to peppers. When I had served his sandwich, he took a gigantic bite out of it and I couldn't help but giggle at what I thought was to come.
                          
     He had stared at me weirdly before his eyes started to water and he started to choke. He dropped the sandwich and his face had gone a strange shade of red. His lips swelled up a little and I had started to panic while he started to choke.
                          
    Even while he was near death, he proceeded to glare at me. Strangled questions about peppers were emitting from his mouth, and I had frantically nodded while blubbering-ly answering that yes, I had put peppers in his sandwich. 
                          
    
                          
     Suddenly, the room went silent. Then, he picked up the small glass figurine that sat on the table next to the recliner and threw it at me. 
                          
   Like a psychotic animal. 
                          
   But then again, I sort of deserved it. 
                          
   Thankfully, I ducked in it time and it shattered when it hit the wall. I looked at him in disbelief that he had thrown something the could potentially shatter my skull in tiny figments. 
                          
  "YOU DON'T PUT GHOST PEPPERS IN PEOPLE'S SANDWICHES!" He growled, the vein in his forehead popping out. 
                          
    "I'm sorry!" I cried out, "I swear I won't do it again!"
                          
    "Go get me water! With ice! And preferably, no fucking peppers!" He shouted, pointing to the kitchen. 
                          
    I nodded and rapidly ran to the kitchen and in record speed made it back to Mr. Volkolv with a tall glass of ice water. 
                          
    He downed it immediately and I watched as his tomato colored face slowly turned back to it's normal shade. 
                          
    "Your are damn lucky I'm not deathly allergic to peppers," he snarled as he wheeled out of the living room. 
                          
    I let out a tired groan and slumped onto the recliner he was previously sat in. We were back to square negative one, and I was probably going to lose my job. 
                          
     
                          
     "How is your day going, Miss Faye?" Asked Mr. Ed as I layed on the couch watching Spongebob. I quickly sat up and turned the television off, and tried to look professional.     
                          
     "It's going well," I lied, "I was just- um...-" 
                          
     "It's alright, Miss Faye-"     
                          
     "-call me Peighton." I interrupted.
                          
     "I understand that Adrian can be a handful at times, but please just bear with him. You see, the past few years have been very rough for him and he's had a hard time adjusting. He may seem a bit... rude and... obnoxious... but he has his reasons. So please, do not give up on him," he pleaded, clapping his hands togther in front of him.
                          
   "Um, no offense, sir, but I'm only his caretaker. Why does it matter? I'm not going to change his point of view on his life," I said, my brows creasing in confusion. I was only taking care of Adrian, er, Mr. Volkolv, and I was pretty sure it was only temporary. I was also pretty sure that I wasn't going to influence him into becoming a nicer person. 
                          
     "If you were there to see how he treated all his other caretakers, you would understand," he chuckled, "he treats you like a saint compared to them. Trust me, he sees something in you. Just give it time and you'll notice it too." He gave me a look, one that I couldn't decipher.
                          
     Mr. Ed left the room after stating that, leaving me confused. He see's something in me?
                          
Yeah, right, I thought, and turned the television back on.