“You’re such a tart,” she says in jest.
But little does she know I’ve been screwing her husband for three weeks now. The question is, do I tell her right away, or do I wait until the bitch beats me at tennis again? Because holy shit, do I hate losing.
Short Stories
No Second Thoughts
He stood his ground across the room from the woman with the long red dress. Sinews stood out from the backs of both of her hands; her knuckles were white as she grasped the blades tightly in both fists.
“Tell me now,” he growled. “Will you do it?”
“I have no choice. I promised my husband I would.”
“Gah! You can let him down, you know.”
“I will never!” she screeched.
“Very well. Follow me.”
He led her down a corridor and into a room filled with mirrors. “Choose your position,” he ordered.
She did as she was told.
“Now give me the blades.”
Her eyes met his in an icy stare.
“If you’re positive. There will be no second thoughts.”
She nodded mutely.
“So be it,” he grumbled.
He lifted the blades to the level of her throat.
“To here?” he asked. “Or a little shorter?”
“I think a bob would be nice.”
“You think?”
She shrugged. “It’ll grow back.”
#SoCS – Volunteer
I should never have volunteered to drive you home. It would have cost me less to throw you in a cab than to have to clean the upholstery of my car, but then who would have carried you into the house? I’d hate to think the cab driver might have just dumped you out in your driveway and left you there to freeze, or worse, drown in your own vomit.
I threw my back out, you know. Carrying you up the stairs at the front of your house to get you inside. Why the hell do you live on the second floor? For God sakes, you could have at least had the decency to move into a ground floor apartment. And then there was Rex.
You told me your dog was friendly. Yeah, right. So why have I been sitting in the emergency room for three hours, again, for the second time in the last three days? Oh right. You didn’t know he’d somehow contracted rabies. Sure thing.
If that wasn’t bad enough, I still have a huge lump on my head from the cast iron frying pan your ex-wife hit me with, when she found out I let you get drunk in the first place. I know, I know. I shouldn’t have told her. But how was I to know your last words to her were, “Of course I’m going to AA meetings”?
I did think you had a lot of nerve to invite me out for a beer to make up for it all. And there you are texting me again…
I nede a rid hoame. At teh bar.
Hehe. Go fuck yourself.
This post was written in stream of consciousness and left unedited. If you’d like to participate in Stream of Consciousness Saturday, just click the link and see how! https://lindaghill.com/2016/10/21/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-2216/
#SoCS – Going in blind
This is so dangerous. This interview is my last hurdle. After this, if I succeed, I get the job and I’m off and fulfilling my dream.
I go in. The room is painted white; there are no pictures on the walls, no windows – no colour except the laminated faux wood table and a green chair. One chair. Will my interviewer stand?
On the table is a sheet of paper. I think at first it’s blank, but I turn it over and there are questions.
#1. (Your first test.) Do you have a pen?
I pull a pen out of my purse and for a second I panic – it doesn’t work!!! I scribble for a while on the back of the paper and a faint blue line appears. It gets darker. Good.
I write “yes” for the first question.
#2. If you were a bug, and you wanted to get into a house but there were screens at the windows, would you:
a) try to squeeze through the screen
b) wait for someone to open a door
c) find another house
What kind of question is that???!!! I ask myself. Flustered, I go on to the next question without answering.
#3. Did you answer question #2? If not, go back now.
I look around the room. Is there a camera? Am I being watched? This is weird. I answer question #2, b. I’m a fairly patient person… I mean bug. Whatever. I write “yes” for question #3.
#4. What is your dream job?
Is this a trick question? It’s the one I’m applying for. I write that.
#5. What colour is white?
White. That’s got to be the correct answer. Or is it? Is white a colour? If not, how do I answer the question? Holy shit, this test is hard.
#6. If your owner holds you by the back of the neck, do you:
a) bite him or her
b) calm down and remain subdued
c) explain that you’re not a dog, and would he or she please let go
What the fuck? I’m just about to cap my pen and be on my way when the door opens and a handsome man in a white suit with a white shirt and tie walks in and stands on the other side of the table.
“Hello,” I say.
The man says nothing. Expressionless. He puts his hands on his hips and blows air out from between his pursed lips. I wait.
“What do you do?” he asks finally.
“What… do you mean?”
“Question #6. You were about to leave. What would you do in that situation?”
I look down at the paper and read the question and the possible answers again. “Umm… c?”
“Is that your final answer?”
I look down again. I’m definitely not a dog. “Yes. That’s my final answer.”
Suddenly the room lights up with yellow and red flashing, turning lights. I feel as though I’m in a game show.
“Congratulations!” the man says. “You’ve got the job!”
I slump down in my seat, and put my forehead on the table. I got it. I got it. I GOT IT!
I’m going to make people millionaires!
This slightly insane post (is this how Regis Philbin got the job?) is brought to you by Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Click the following link to read the rules and join in: https://lindaghill.com/2016/10/14/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-oct-1516/
The Real Story
“I can’t believe you came all the way back here without the golden egg.”
“I told you, they wouldn’t let me carry it on the plane!”
“Why didn’t you tell them it was made of gold?”
“I did. But then they asked me where I got it from.”
“And you told them what?”
“I told them it came from a goose.”
“NO!”
“Yeah. So they said no matter what it’s made of, if it came out of a goose, it’s dairy.”
“So who’s got it now?”
“Probably the big guy back at customs. At first I thought he’d let me keep it for a fee, but then he said, ‘Fie!’ like they do in those Shakespeare plays. Then he seemed sad. He was saying, ‘Ho hum,’ but with this really weird speech impediment. Do you think we’ll get it back?”
“We might. I’ve got some beans we might trade it for.”
The Chronicles of Mary, Part 2 – a 50-word story
Last week, Mary got her heel stuck in a sewer grate. As a car was approached at great speed, a woman in a cape (envision Professor Umbridge of Harry Potter fame) scooped Mary up and moved her to safety.
Mary attended the woman’s funeral shoeless. She wasn’t taking any chances.
Dumb – #AtoZ Challenge
I got it! I finally got a way to get on America’s Funniest Videos! This is gonna be great. All I have to do is cover the peak of the roof with sheet metal, and build a ramp coming down to it off the top of the barn. Oh, and I need my skateboard. Duh! I’m gonna grind for the camera, baby!
Author’s Notes:
1. It’s obvious where my inspiration for this piece came from, yet I have to hand it to the people who make up a good portion of those who get their videos on the show; their ideas are brilliant. It took me a while to come up with something original.
2. I have no plans to write Adult Content fiction pieces for this challenge, but it happens, and it’s sometimes beyond my control if I’m to remain authentic to my muse. I will place a warning in the title of those posts which fall under the AC category.
Shame – a 50-word story
It’s a major disaster. So much blood has been spilled. I had one job to do. Just one. How could I have been so careless? I’ll never be able to show my face in public again!
I should have known I was too clumsy to work in a butcher shop.
Thar’s the Rub – a 50-word story
“You don’t like her?”
“No. She rubs me the wrong way.”
“Which way does she rub you?”
“Oh you know. Side to side.”
“Do you prefer to be rubbed up and down?”
“From top to bottom, actually.”
“Hmm. I like the tummy.”
“OOh, and behind the ear is good too.”
Applied Art – a 50 word story
“What is the most romantic gesture you can think of?”
Sitting behind the desk in her best business suit, legs crossed, she tapped the pen on the bridge of her nose and stared at the question.
All she could think was, What kind of secretarial job am I applying for?
Linda G. Hill 