"When you get to The Venue you will find the key under the planter by the front door. The Linens will all be in the table to the left of the kitchen door. You are welcome to use our china if you like, but we know you have your own. Anything else you need, call us."

When we arrived my first clue to the impending doom should have been the empty beer cans crammed in the planter. The second clue should have been what appeared to be a woman's stilleto in the planter on the opposite side.

When we opened the door I dropped my tote in utter shock and awe.

As fate would have it my cell phone rang. "Hey, Venue Owner here, was your Trick today or next Saturday."

I kind of don't remember what I said after that because I am pretty sure the blood running to my brain caused me to lose conciousness. I do know the anger rolling forth from my mouth caused me to actually spittle as I spoke.

They... forgot. Lost track of time. And apparently fell and hit their head on a blunt object because that is the only reason that could explain what we found this morning.

Dirty linens piled on the floor. Empty wine and beer bottles strewn around like a drunken frat house toga party before Apple Cup*. (*You need to look that up. I don't have the capacity to link right now. I am lucky I can form a sentence at this point.)

They arrived before we left, mop buckets and fresh linens in hand. I refused to make eye contact or speak another word. I knew the fate of my soul resided in every last thing rolling through my brain.

Instead I turned an about face. Marched toward the door. I heard The Partner say, "ONE. HOUR." And then I tripped over my tote. The kind of trip you don't actually fall but keep flailing forward until you regain your balance on scrambling feet. I sort of landed on the door, straightened my apron and said, "YEAH!"

I showed them.