Bun And Loaf.

Blindsided.

"Clark... Clark!" A voice shouted.

I snapped awake and sleepily looked around with a piece of paper stuck to my cheek.

"Huh?" I asked.

"Go home, Clark. You're fired."

I looked up and saw my boss standing there and grabbed the paper from my face.

It was the signed doctor's note that he'd ignored as he told me to go to my desk.

I already had my phone recording the audio of the interaction.

"On who's authority?" I asked more soberly.

"On my authority. Clean out your desk and leave. You're finished."

"Who are you again?"

"It's me, you dumbass. Richard Mathiss.

Get the hell out before I call security."

Suddenly, the call disconnect tone was heard on my phone.

"Who was that?" Richard demanded.

I picked up my phone, unlocked it and said.

"Looks like my attorney. My phone is set to automatically answer his calls." I mumbled.

"Well, we don't need a lawyer snooping around, so you can stay." Richard said, much more softly than before.

"No. Piss off, you worthless skunk-assed rat bastard. I'll see you in court for wrongful termination and medical discrimination." I snapped.

"Hah! How will you prove it?"

"I have it recorded and sent to my attorney that you ignored a doctor's note that warned of the side effects of the shot that I have to take every three months to control my extreme hyper sensory issues and you, then, tried to fire me because said side effects caused me to fall asleep."

"So? How do I know that you didn't forge that note?"

"Uh, hello! Hospital wristband that is still on my wrist from this morning!

Not everyone is as corrupt as you are.

Just because you forge documents every day that you are here, sending false reports to corporate, doesn't mean that the rest of us would.

I am also live streaming our conversation to HR and corporate." I said.

He reached into his pocket.

"I will only say this once. Stop recording." He pulled his hand out just far enough to show the handle of a weapon.

I sat back and laughed.

"You really want to do this?"

He pulled the knife and lunged but, I planted a .45-70 round in his abdomen.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you not to bring a knife to a gunfight?" I asked and took my hand from my still holstered derringer revolver.

The holster was designed to swivel and was open to expose the barrel. It was shaped to allow the cylinder to rotate unimpeded.

The round went through my desk and only caused relatively minor injuries to Richard.

He'd dropped his knife and I reached over to pick it up.

"USMC Ka-Bar? You were never in the Marines." I said.

"My brother was." He said.

I stabbed the point into an undamaged part of the hickory slab desk and said.