GoFundMe
"**Hey boss, did you see the GoFundMe link I shared in messenger?**"
It was the middle of tax season. I didn't have time for this shit. When John the Intern sidled up to my side; I granted him some serious side-eye from the corner of my morning's first spreadsheet.
"*No, what's up, man?*" I asked gruffly. "*Did you just get here?*"
He paused and shifted the weight of his work bag on his shoulder.
"**Yeah... traffic was pretty bad on the Parkway.**” He lingered. “**I actually had a quick question.**"
"*Shoot,*" I mumbled, allowing my eyes to drift towards my e-mails.
"**So, hopefully, my sister will be getting married in a couple weeks.**” He paused; expecting a congratulations while holding his hands together like a beggar.
"*Where you going with this, kid?*”
"**I know it's last minute... but, I really need the time off. My sister can't get married without me there.**"
I had to compose myself, just to keep from laughing in his face. My heart was racing. We had reports due for five accounts before the April 18th deadline. A lapse in filing could result in tax evasion charges for *our clients*. I had barely seen my own family in weeks. We were understaffed and underfunded as it was... and this dickhead wanted a vacation?
"*Look man, there is absolutely no way we can swing that right now,*" I said, as his face fell to his shoes. "*If you want the job, you work the hours agreed in your contract. This is for college credits. You already used vacation on your mom's birthday.*"
I paused; for empathy's purpose.
"*If you miss anymore days, we have to replace you in the bullpen. Take the day to think about it.*"
Without another word, I returned to get back to my work. Honestly, in my head, I was accounting for the man hours we would miss with the Intern crying at his deck.
"**Thank you, sir,**" John said awkwardly. "**I'm going to send you that link again...**”
I nodded and waved an arm over my head while the phone ran off its hook. I picked it up and began the day's discussion on our client's mysterious offshore funding habits.
It was not until well past lunch that I emerged from my office for a bottle of water. My boss, Mike, caught me on the way there and pulled me to the side.
"**Did you know the situation with that tall intern? Name escapes me. We just off-boarded him. He packed his bags and left without notice.**"
I chuckled. "*Most of these kids can't last in the jungle.*"
He nodded and walked away with a wide grin. "**That's why they pay us the big bucks.**"
Back in my office, the rest of the afternoon was much more relaxing. Most of my assignments were delegated. I had my remaining intern interviewing new potential interns. That felt fitting. If you kill a bug in the house, leave it out to rot as a warning to the others.
They were truly worthless, I thought, as I watched from the glass window. A monkey could do their job. It was basic data entry, after all. Barely worth a second thought.
Some time around two, I came across John's farewell e-mail, dated hours earlier. The latter thanked his mentors for giving him the opportunity to learn. He cited my boss, Mike, as well as his fellow coworkers. Even the security guard. Everyone; but me.
Whatever.
The next email was from an unknown email. Inside was a link to a GoFundMe page.
I clicked it for curiosity.
The website took a minute to load on the old Windows machine. I smacked the monitor for a few moments, and thought about calling the IT guy at home. The fucking thing was always so slow. Finally, the browser loaded and a grainy image appeared over the screen and readjusted to the resolution.
It was a picture of me.
I was sleeping. The photo had definitely been taken in my bedroom. I could see our black alarm clock in the background. It also looked like the photographer was by my side.
I dragged the bar down to find the summary under a broad and bold headline.
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!!**Nearly Funded**!!
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**Help me kill my boss. If you pay me one million dollars, I will finally fucking do it.**
*This sum may seem ridiculous. But many of us have the same goal, here. This asshole steps on everyone he meets. He needs to be stopped. I will do it. The money is for my escape and inevitable legal fees.*
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The sponsor was anonymous, but it didn't take much for my mind to wonder. I clicked over to 'Updates'.
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*He actually fucking fired me. I never thought he would have the balls. Today's the day.* (2h ago, 200 comments)
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I scrolled down a bit more.
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*How do we do it? Au natural with pills, or something rough? Hitman or traditional homicide? Vote in the comments! Don't forget to share with anyone likeminded, that might have a boss like mine!* (4d ago, 563 comments)
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*He never even looked at this page once. I have asked, as a prank, for days. I'm serious now. We all are.* (8d, 1.2k comments)
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That was enough for me. I grabbed my jacket and threw it over my shoulder, all the while stuffing my laptop into the work bag. I waved over my shoulder at Mike on my way out.
"*Family emergency!*" I shouted over my shoulder.
My Rover was parked in a priority spot. I headed out the front door and hopped in. The drive was only ten minutes. Five l; if I was able to hit the gas.
Of course, that was not possible. I panicked and pulled out my cell phone in traffic. The pledge was up to $998,000.
My wife's car was missing from the lot. I checked the garage quickly before going inside. There was no familiar bark from our dog, Lola. The security system did not require disarming. The entire house was nearly empty, with only a shallow light casting shadows into every corner of our large foyer.
In the middle stood this old wooden desk.There's a cup of hot coffee on it, an un-smoked cigarette, and some matches.
There’s a laptop here, too. My GoFundMe page is pulled up. The picture of me sleeping almost encompasses the entire screen. There's one final update at the top.
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*Goal achieved!*
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I refreshed. The entire page was removed.
The last item on the table is a pistol. There is a single bullet placed neatly by the side. At this point... I'm not sure if it's from my wife, John, or somebody else.
Maybe I’ll just meet their goal myself.