Another Worthless Night
The door is stuck again. Warped. Must be hot outside. Already?
I turn the handle and brace for the hot, white light before it beats down on me. The package greets me with a crooked smile.
“Jack,” it says. “I thought I said to hurry.”
“You said get over here now. Why you here?”
“Because you didn’t show. You coming, or what?”
The door is getting heavy, so is my head. Throbbing headache shows for a visit. Nausea escorts him in.
“Kitchen,” I say through gritted teeth and swerve back inside.
June 13th, 2009 at 8:31 am
I am so looking forward to what is going to
happen when he is back in the Kitchen.
Just thinking about it makes my head throb.
September 1st, 2009 at 2:56 pm
Arrgh! What happens next? You’ve taken us to the kitchen, then what?
Fine, I’ll give you some literal motivation…..:)
The smell of rotting food and whiskey taps my senses first.
The cold, hard feel of the linoleum table against my face continues the beat.
I push my head up and to one side, forcing my gritty eyes open.
My view is muddy and warped.
With a heavy sigh, I reach over and right the Jack Daniels bottle, then look slowly around as much as I can without moving my head.
There’s daylight coming through the bottom of blind covering the window.
My eyes crawl to the clock.
I’m waiting……..