Sinister

“Hugo's going as a ballerina,” Phillip said.

“Isn't he a football player?” Christina asked.

“Six-ten; two-forty.” Phillip nodded. “Kids these days. “Always clowning around. Kind of like Norman and Fred here.” He gestured to his left where the men sat wearing rubber masks, sucking on unlit cigarettes, chuckling softly whenever someone new entered the room and startled.

“Give it up, guys.” Richard Jackson, founder and CEO walked in, a thick file folder stuffed beneath his arm. “Every year, it's the same.” He positioned himself at the head of the table.

Norman grabbed the grey hair of the mask, yanked it down. Fred did likewise. Their hair was mussed, their faces sweating.

“Jesus, wipe your face,” Phillip said, and Caroline rose and got a wad of paper towels from the cabinet.

All during the meeting, Norman and Fred kept at it, elbowing each other and giggling. Norman took two pieces of candy corn from the dish, affixed them to his front teeth and grinned at Caroline.

“Norman, will you please focus?” Richard frowned then looked around the room. “A batch of the drug was tainted.”

“With what?” Phillip said.

“Pesticides.”

“How did that happen?” Caroline asked.

“Don't know. The point is, what do we do now.”

“Throw it out.”

“Quit joking around, Norman,” Richard said. “Phillip?”

“Dollar stores? Donations, if that doesn't work. Orphanages. Food aid. Spread it out real thin.”

“That's unconscionable.”

“No, Norman. It's business,” Richard said.

“I'll go to the press.”

“You do that, you're out of a job.”

Norman nodded and slipped on his mask. He lit his cigarette and left the room, smoking through the slit in the mask.

“Oh, sinister, Norman,” the intern said.

“You think I'm scary,” Norman said, “you ought to go to that staff meeting.”

He placed a quick call and headed home.

For the first time ever, he'd be able to trick-or-treat with his kids.

This was written in response to this week's Trifecta Writing Challenge.  The word was sinister.