Folded Cretins

  Maggie stood and allowed herself a moment to take in the room. For weeks she’d been a bundle of nerves, barely able to sleep or eat. But the wedding rehearsal went off without a hitch, and the banquet hall was beautifully decorated for the rehearsal dinner and filled with her favorite people in the world. Tomorrow she’d marry the love of her life, and all would be right in the world. 

  She raised her glass and waited a moment. The dull roar of conversations ceased, and all eyes turned toward her. She smiled. 

  “I don’t have anything prepared, but I just wanted to say thank you. So many of you here tonight helped bring this thing together,” she said, pausing to look down at her soon-to-be husband seated next to her. “Even Thomas and his brother got involved; they’re the ones that set up this beautiful rehearsal dinner.” 
 
  Thomas sheepishly raised his beer and dipped his head as several people cheered. When they died down, Maggie continued.

  “I haven’t been easy to deal with these past few weeks, with work going crazy and taking care of my mom, and of course this wedding, it’s just been…” she took a moment, determined not to cry and ruin her makeup. Finally, she choked out a few more words. “I love you all.” 

  Everyone drank, then several of her closest friends rushed up and hugged her. Conversations resumed, but quickly ceased when a loud voice cried out from the entrance. 

  “Don’t do it, Maggie. Don’t marry him!” 

  Every eye turned to see Maggie’s longtime best friend, Jim. His shirt was partially untucked, and he swayed, a half-empty bottle of liquor in his hand. He took an uneasy step forward. 

  “He doesn’t deserve you,” Jim said, words slurred. 

  Maggie wasn’t surprised by the outburst, but it broke her heart nonetheless. Some of the things Jim had been saying recently made her suspect he might make some grand gesture before the wedding. She wished desperately that she loved him the way he loved her; things would’ve been so much easier if she did, but her feelings for him were non-romantic. 

  Thomas shot to his feet and pointed angrily at Jim. 

  “Get that bum out of here!” he yelled. 

  Maggie turned and gripped Thomas by the shoulder. 

  “He’s drunk, baby. That’s all this is.” 

  He pulled away from her. 

  “Harv, get this punk out of my sight!” Thomas barked. 

  An overweight man leaning on the bar near the back of the room jumped into action. Harv was Thomas’ brother, and along with a few of Thomas’ friends, he approached Jim and seized him. They started dragging him from the room. 

  “You don’t deserve her!” Jim yelled as they removed him. “You and your folded cretins!” 

  Those last two words hit Maggie like a bullet. The folded cretins were infamous. Not a night went by when they weren’t featured on the news; their most recent wave of robberies left several dead and scores injured. Surely, Jim was just grasping at straws by suggesting Thomas had some connection to them. Yet the thought alone sent a cold shock through Maggie.

  Thomas grabbed her by the arms and turned her to face him. 

  “Honey, listen to me, everything is fine. Everything is normal,” he said. 

  “But Jim just… why did Jim say-” 

  “Jim’s drunk!” Thomas interrupted. “You said so yourself. He’s just drunk, honey, shouting nonsense to try and come between us!”

  Searching Thomas’ eyes, she saw something she’d never seen in them before. Desperation. Memories flashed in her mind, little moments she’d dismissed over the past few months. 

  “You have all that construction paper,” she muttered, her mind grappling to make connections that seemed too impossible. “I’ve seen you up in the middle of the night folding things.” 

  A new voice yelled out. It came from their table. 

  “That’s it, boys! The jig is up!” it shouted in a heavy New York accent. 

  Maggie watched, horrified, as the placemat on the table moved. It began to fold itself, transforming from a flat sheet of paper into a complex figure. She’d seen origami before, but this went a step beyond. A moment later, the paper had folded itself into the figure of a small man, no larger than 10 inches. He wore a pinstripe suit and had an old-timey tommy gun clutched in his hands. It was Al Ca-Fold, the leader of the folded cretins. 

  Thomas released Maggie and knelt down, addressing Ca-Fold. 

  “What are you doing here?” Thomas hissed. “This is my wedding!”

  “Sorry boss, but your broad has wealthy friends with expensive tastes. The boys and I couldn’t pass up a score like this,” Ca-Fold said. 

  Yells and screams came from the other tables in the room as their placemats folded up into little gangsters. 

  “Put your money and jewelry on the table or get popped!” one of the paper gangsters shouted, waving a tiny gun around. 

  Maggie backed away toward the large windows overlooking the city below. She shook her head, looking from Al Ca-Fold back to Thomas, the man she thought she knew. 

  “You’re their leader?” she asked.

  “Don’t blow this out of proportion, Maggie,” Thomas pleaded. “It’s not as bad as-”

  “They kill people!” Maggie screamed. “They’re robbing our families and friends!”

  Tears flowed as she took another step away. Her emotions were roaring, a whirlwind of shock and anger and betrayal, but she settled on one. Disgust. 

  “You’re a monster,” she said, feeling like she was looking at a stranger instead of the man she’d been about to marry. 

  Thomas’ demeanor shifted. The pleading left his eyes and was replaced by something else. Something cold. Something dangerous. Al Ca-Fold hopped off the table and climbed up his arm. Once he reached Thomas’ shoulder, he glared at Maggie.

  “A monster?” Thomas asked. “Where do you think the money for this wedding came from? How do you think we’ve been able to afford your mother’s treatments?” 

  She’d never heard such rage in his voice before. 

  “You have no problem spending this monster’s money!” he roared. 

  Maggie backed away. A series of pops, like firecrackers, filled the air, and someone screamed. Her eyes darted around the room as chaos broke out. Guests tried to run, and the folded cretins were opening fire with their tiny guns. She glanced to the right and saw an emergency exit. 

  “Uh-uh,” Al Ca-Fold said, raising the tommy gun and pointing it at her. “You got a real nice face. It’d be a shame if something happened to it.”

  She froze, looking from the little gangster then back at Thomas. He wouldn’t let the thing shoot her, would he? More screams, more tiny gunshots, and her decision was made. She tensed, ready to run. 

  “Wrong choice,” Ca-Fold said. 
 
  His tommy gun roared to life. The bullets felt like needles as they pelted her face. Maggie screeched and pitched backward. They stabbed into her cheek, and one hit her eye. Her vision filled with a plume of red, and fiery pain swept through her. Her back hit the large window, and the glass cracked and sliced her flesh. Covering her face with her hands, Maggie collapsed to the floor. 

  She lay there clutching her bloody face. With her one good eye, she watched as Thomas knelt in front of her. He reached down and slipped the engagement ring from her finger, then tossed it behind him. Ca-Fold caught it, teetering beneath its weight. The paper gangster whistled as he stared at the ring. 

  “You really had a thing for this broad, huh boss?” 

  Thomas frowned as he stared down at Maggie. He shook his head. 

  “Nah, she was nothing special.” 

  Maggie watched as Thomas, his brother Harv, and the folded cretins all left with their bounty of money and jewelry. As badly as her wounds hurt, Thomas’ final words hurt even more.