In the back of his mind, he knew it was wrong. But considering the fact that the back of Borris’s mind was greatly clouded over by extreme uncontrollable stupidity, he didn’t see it. So he kept the gun at Ollivander’s head, the look of pure anger and power still plastered on his face, though he wasn’t sure why he had that look at all.“You’ve got it, Ollivandamer.” Borris’s voice bounced miserably around the emptied warehouse.“Oh, for Christ’s sake, you stupid git. It’s Ollivander. I’ve only said that 20 thousand times. And no, I don’t have it.” Said Ollivander. He had been tied up for quite a lengthy time now, and was getting rather testy.
“Come on, Ollivandizer, you’ve gotta have it. The Big Chabooski said you have it, so you have it.” Said Borris, wiggling the gun back and forth in attempt to gain some respect from the ever-souring Ollivander.“Did it ever occur to you, you pathetic excuse for a human, that the Big Chimichanga, or whatever the hell he’s called, isn’t God? He doesn’t know everything? he could be WRONG?!” Ollivander had the feeling he was pushing his luck with that one. He must, after all, keep in mind that he was not the one with the loaded gun.“Alls I know is that the Big Chabooski told me told me that the guy standing just next to the coke machine was the guy with the money. You were standing next to the coke machine, so you have the money.” Borris felt very proud of himself for that one, since he had followed directions so well. Ollivander rolled his head back and groaned from frustration.“I don’t have the money, Borris. Hell, I don’t even know what money you’re talking about. All your foolishness is driving me nuts. Now LET ME GO!” Ollivander shifted his weight from side to side, the legs of the chair hitting the metal floor echoed loudly around the room.“You’ve got it, I know you have. The Big Chabooski said so.” Borris just wasn’t going to let it go. He began to circle Ollivander, keeping the gun a mere inch from his head. Borris knew this was the only thing he had left to do. The Big Chabooski always said, “You dumb s**t, Borris. How many times do I gotta tell ya? If ya can’t say anything smart, just keep the gun to their head!” So that’s precisely what Borris did.
Three hours past, the gun still to Ollivander’s head, Borris still randomly circling him in an attempt to seem intimidating, Ollivander still denying the fact that he has any money at all.
“I’ve got 20 bucks in my wallet, is that the money the Big Chabooski wants?” Said Ollivander in an exasperated tone.
“No, no. The Big Chabooski said it’s lotsa money. The Big Chabooski’s money.” Borris scratched his temple with the gun, then, realizing his mistake, quickly positioned it back in its rightful place, in front of Ollivander’s forehead.“Just gimme the money, Ollivooski. Just gimme it, and I’ll letcha go.” Borris said this as though he were talking to a three year old, standing on the kitchen counter cradling the jar of cookies, shaking its head fiercely as his mother prompts him to hand it over.“For the last damned time, It’s Ollivander, and I don’t have your God forsaken money! I’ve got 20 bucks, I’ve got 250 in my checking account, I don’t have a savings account, I’ve got a jar of pennies on my dresser at home, five bucks stashed in a shoebox in my closet, and my collection of 2 dollar bills in my glass piggy bank. For Christ’s sake, man. That’s all I’ve got!” Desperation was taking over Ollivander’s frailing mind.
“No, no, that’s not it, Ollivooser. The Big Chabooski says it’s in a briefcase. Or a suitcase. Or a briefsuit…or something like that. You gotsta have one’a them cuz you gotst the money.” The stupidity cloud in Borris’s brain was thickening as the minutes ticked by, engulfing the small thread of remorse still left at the back of his brain.“Just gimme the money, Ollivanbeaner. Booser. Wasser. Whatever your name is. Gimme the money and I won’t hafta shoot ya.” Borris gave himself an imaginary pat on the back for that one, he always felt proud when he was being nice to someone.“Oh damn it all to hell, man! Alright, if I tell you where the cursed money is, will you let me go?” pleaded Ollivander.“Oh, I sure will, Ollivejuice. I’ll letcha go.” Borris was getting excited, he felt triumph was nearing.“Ok, listen good, Borris my boy…” Ollivander hoped to distract Borris long enough to come up with a plan. “Alright, if you go just down the stairs…” Ollivander kept speaking, but had no idea what he was saying. “you’ll see a dumpster. Just behind the dumpster is a small trap-door about a foot tall. If you’ll open that trap door, you’ll see a big brown…” Borris was nearly drooling with concentration on every word Ollivander was saying, soaking it all in, and praying he’d retain it long enough to do as he was told. Since Borris wasn’t the type who could handle two tasks at once, like walking and chewing gum, the gun began to slowly tilt downwards from Ollivander’s forehead. In mid-sentence, just when he got to the part about having to hop three times while patting your head after you opened the box, Ollivander swung his left leg up, hitting Borris in the gun-holding arm. Borris panicked, and did the exact thing that Borris always does when he panics. Pulls the nearest trigger. And since the nearest trigger just so happened to be nestled nicely centimeters from his finger, he pulled it. Now, Ollivander swinging his leg at Borris’s arm caused him to tip slightly to the right, which was, unfortunately, the precise direction that the gun was fired in. And by some twisted chain of events, the very bullet that Ollivander had attempted to prevent from entering his forehead, did in fact enter his forehead at the exact spot where Borris has been holding the gun for those so many hours. Ollivander continued his downward fall for the floor, and landed with an echoing thud.Borris instinctively dropped the gun. Trying to collect his few thoughts, he concluded that Ollivandoozer was dead, he killed him, and still didn’t have the money. He left the warehouse feeling rather disgruntled.“Did you get the money, old boy?” Asked the Big Chabooski.“No, boss. I did whatcha told me to do, boss…but I didn’t get the money. I found the guy next to the coke machine, just like you told me to, boss. But he said he didn’t have the money. I said he did, cuz you said he did, Boss. But he said he didn’t. He’s dead now.” Said a guilt-stricken Borris.
“You retard. Honestly, the things I have to put up with. Well what was his name, you moron?” Asked the Big Chabooski.“Oliv..Oliver…Olive something, I don’t remember, Boss.”