The Vinyl Effect

The ticking of the clock made him nervous, each tick seemed to be harping away at him telling his senses what his brain failed to acknowledged.

His cellphone rested on his lap as he puffed away at another cigarette; it was his fourth in a row and this one was down to near the filter. He was thinking of lighting up another one when his cellphone came alive.

"Yes," he said as he brought it up to his ear.

"We're in some serious shit," the voice on the other end told him. "We need Pretty and we need him bad."

"I will find him," he replied. "Is there anything in particular you need him to get?"

"Vinyl," the voice on the other end said.

"Vinyl?" he repeated the word.

"Pretty knows what it's all about," the voice said.