You don't really know what it's like being broke until your bank account is in the double digits and the bills are due in five days.  My name is Scott and I've been unemployed for the last year and a half, my savings are running
dry, my rent is overdue and the classifieds are as pathetic as I am.  There is this one ad that keeps popping up day after day, "Seven days and Seven nights, never worry about money again! 1-718-001-1201"  I rub my five o'clock shadow
and stare at this ad for the fifth time, should I call? Anything is possible I tell myself, anything. I pick up my cordless phone and the electronic keypad sound fills the room, followed by the muffled sound of a ringing phone.
"Hello?" A feminine voice answers on the other end.  "Hi, my name is Scott, I'm calling about the ad in the paper" I say, unsure of myself, expecting a more business like greeting from the other end of the phone.  "Oh hey there, yes
let me explain, you see I have these attacks when I am by myself, I guess you can call them panic attacks.  I just need someone to stay at the house with me for a week out of the month, every month." the alluring voice replies. 
"Sounds interesting, what's the compensation and requirements?" I ask.

    Elizabeth sits at her kitchen table, phone to her ear, the morning sunlight bathing the entire room.  "Your rent or mortgage, your bills, your food for the month, all paid for, plus fifteen hundred cash to spend on anything
you'd like." she says confidently into the phone as she adjusts her loose fitting sweatpants.  She has never been comfortable with her looks, but she is quite the looker sitting there, even in her "bumming around" clothes, her
bare feet rest against the cold tiled floor and her tank top reveals her toned arms as her long brown hair hangs down to her shoulders. "Oh, yes, sorry! my name is Liz... My address, 1 Roland way, It's a little down the dead
end street off of Neli avenue... Yeah, that one"  she converses into the phone. As she talks she opens a small jar on the table, the jar is no bigger then a normal salt shaker, and is made out of clear glass with a crystal cover.
She pours something no bigger then a small bug into her hand, it moves a tiny bit, almost like it's trying to find a way off of the vast expansive plain that is her hand, but doesn't make it very far before it's placed on the table
and pinned beneath her fingertip lightly.  "You don't really need to bring much, just yourself" she says into the phone as she pinches the small being between her thumb and forefinger.  "Ok, see ya soon." she says as she hangs up
the phone, placing it onto the table while lifting the tiny being up to her face. "Looks like we just found your replacement!" she says in a cutesy voice. 

    I still have my doubts as I lock my door and head down the hallway to the dirty elevator in my filthy apartment building. It is a sweet gig, and maybe just maybe it could get me out of this place and into a better neighborhood.
I rub my clean shaven face as I hit the button for the lobby, the slow moving elevator lurches down the tunnel with that annoying squeak that I've learned to tune out. After a few seconds the bell dings and the doors slide open into the
dim, dingy lobby of the apartment building and I make my way outside.  I notice two small kids playing with a basketball not far from my car as I take my keys out of my pocket.  The ball suddenly bounces away from one of them and
rolls into my front tire. "Hey mister!" the boy shouts as I bend down to pick up the ball, rolling it gently back to him, he couldn't be older then seven.  "Thanks Mister!" he shouts as I give him a slight wave.  I open the door
to my rusty old station wagon and climb in, starting the engine and slamming the door closed. 

It wasn't hard finding the house, it was the only place on the whole block, if you could call it that, more like a dirt trail with a driveway.  I park the car and wait for the loose dirt to settle before I open the door and approach
the large white gate.  I notice that the gate is locked from the inside by a bolt, an unusually high bolt, almost at the top of the fence.  "Hello?" I half shout as I reach for my cell phone. "hey!" I hear from around the other side
of the house. "One minute" Patricia's voice responds. I see her approach the gate, "not bad" I say to myself, her tone legs shine in the warm spring sunlight, and she looks good in her shorts,tang-top and flip flops. 
"Hi, sorry about that" She says as she stands on her tippy toes to unlock the gate, swinging it open.  "Hey there, I stammer, offering her my hand.  She shakes it firmly.  I have a hard time believing this specimen
of a women is afraid of anything, she seems confident and strong enough to stand on her own two feet.  "Let's go inside and talk" she says in a confident tone as she turns and leads me to the front door. 
"sure.. hey why is that lock so high up on the gate?" I ask awkwardly. "Oh that? that's to keep the little ones from getting out" she says with a hint of mirth.  "you have kids?" I ask.  "No" she replies dryly.
"Must have pets, i think to myself as I follow her through the front door."

    The place is not much to look at on the inside, A small kitchenette, a small living room, a bathroom, A bedroom, and what looks like stairs to a den.  "Have a seat" she says as she extends her hand
towards the wooden kitchen table.  I sit down and she sits across the table from me.  "So, do you have any pets?" She asks of me sweetly.  "Nope, not at this time" I say in my best professional tone.
"Good, I would hate to have them starve on you." She says as she smiles a cute little half smile.  "You aren't a psychopath are you?" she laughs. "Not the last time I checked" I reply trying my best to keep a straight face.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asks in a nice but unusally firm tone.  "sure, anything is fine" I reply as I fold my hands on the table.  My hands sweat as I think of what I am going to say next as she walks
back with a can of soda, lid popped, she hands it to me and sits back down. "So tell me about your work history" she says in a serious tone as I pick the can of soda up and half lift it towards my mouth.  "Well I worked with cars,
mechanic I guess you can call it. "Short and to the point I guess." she half mumbles.  I sweat even more as I feel I am losing her interest quickly.  "Can you start tonight?" she quips happily. "hmmm?! yea sure!" I reply, a little taken back"

    I rush to pack a suitcase with my least stained clothes, anticipating the ability to buy a whole new wardrobe at the end of the month! "Fuck this place!" I think to myself, I am so out of here after a few months with my new employer. I zip the suitcase closed and head out of my pathetic apartment and half run to my car, speeding off into the congested rush hour streets.

    Elizabeth stirs her potatoes around with her fork.  "Mmmmm! you look so cute when you squirm around like that" She teases the tiny figure of a man as he struggles to keep from drowning in the soft pile of potatoes.
"Here it comes!!" she says half giggling as she slowly lowers her fork down to her dish, scooping right next to her struggling, screaming victim. "Aww this must be so terrible for you, Is the big bad giant fork making
you afraid??" she chides as she lifts the forkfull of potatoes to her hungry mouth, pushes it in and chews while looking down on her prey with a smile. "I'm gonna eat ya!" she teases as she again lowers her fork down to her plate, scooping up the screaming spec and lifting it along with a pile of steaming potatoes to her thick red lips. She blows the steam away and with great hesitation parts her lips and moves her prey towards her salivating tongue, depositing
him and his soft white globby prison on her tongue before closing her mouth and pulling an empty fork from between her lips.  She chews slowly as she grabs the small crystal topped jar between her thumb and forefinger, thinking of how
the tiny person in her mouth barely fit into it a few days ago, and how impossibly large it must have seemed only hours ago.  She swallows and lets out a satisfied sigh as she gets up, she walks to her bedroom, her bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. She stops by her nightstand, where a pair of sandles are laying on the floor neatly, and places the jar in front of them.  She daydreams as she sits on the bed, looking down at the jar that is only slightly taller then the foam soles of her flip flops.  She slowly slips her feet into the sandles and wiggles her toes. "Fe fi fo fum" she says in a slow half whisper before her attention is drawn away by a knock at the front gate.