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The Innocent Smile Of Henry Jones
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“Why is it so hard to get a goddamn taxi!” I screamed. I had spent the past four or five minutes trying to hail a taxi, sounding a bit anxious while doing so. There is a good reason for that. Today was Valentines Day, and I had yet to get my wife a gift. I had left work nearly three hours early, so obviously my paycheck is going to be lighter. Finally, a taxi pulled up infront of me.
“Where yah off too buddy?” the cab driver asked.
“The Tiffany & Co jewelry store, and please be quick.” I spoke quickly and urgently, checking my watch as I did.
“You got it.” He said, as he started the counter.
We were about halfway to the jewelry store, when he pulled over.
“Why’d you stop?!” I said, nearly shouting. I heard the door next to me open. I looked over to the person now sitting next to me.
“Oh great, out of this entire city, I have to share a taxi with you.” I whined. Sitting next to me was Henry Jones, the