Flash Fiction ~ Gag Me With A Spoon

Why did it always have to be the nerdiest of the nerds who asked her out? Okay so, she could admit that she was a little on the geeky side, but nothing like the endless stream of dweebs that she seemed to be attracting. She was in the debate club because her dad told her that it would give her good practice for the courtroom when she finally graduated law school and joined his firm.

She also liked being right, and the debate club gave her plenty of opportunities to show just how right she was about most everything. Why though, people assumed that she wanted to date guys from the math and science clubs was beyond her. In her opinion, she was a much better match for the guys on the rugby and football teams. They always went for the dumb, slutty girls though, and she’d sooner jump off a bridge than dumb herself down for a date.

So, here she sat on yet another Friday night keeping her couch warm while she watched Netflix. Unable to take it anymore, she went to her room and got dressed up, determined to go to her favorite club and pick up a guy. She walked up to the bar, on thin high heels, and swung her long legs up onto a stool next to a hot guy. Wearing her one short skirt and low cut shirt, she felt bold and started talking to the man next to her.

This guy was on the rugby team and his body showed it. He smiled at her and offered to pay for her drink. Giving him a big smile, she accepted. As they continued to talk, she couldn’t believe her luck. He seemed interested. Finally though, a tall blonde slinked up to him, throwing her arms around his neck and planting a kiss on him that should have come with a warning label.

Admittedly confused, she was stunned as he introduced her to his girlfriend, who barely acknowledged her. Seeing the look on her face, he told her that he had been thinking that his buddy would like to meet a cool girl like her. Barely unable to contain her excitement, she agreed to meet him. Excusing himself, the guy went outside where it was quiet to call his friend.

When he came back, he explained that his friend didn’t like bars and asked if she’d consider going to his apartment for a cup of coffee. Against her better judgement, she took the address and made her way there. When she knocked on the door, a deep voice from inside called for her to let herself in. Thinking that he needed a few more minutes to get ready, she let herself in and said hello before sitting on the couch.

After a few moments, a door opened and out walked one of the guys from the debate team, who was also in the math club. She was beyond pissed. He sat next to her and told her how long he’d been waiting to get to know her better. He’d asked her out several times, and she’d said no each time. What was with this guy? She asked how she knew the guy from the bar, and he explained that he tutored him. She was trying to think of a way to get out of this gracefully when he stood up and asked her to follow him into the kitchen for coffee.

Watching him as he got the coffee ready she noted how thin and pale he was. Not only that, but his clothing had cheap written all over it. She snapped out of her reverie as he handed her a mug. He smiled at her and told her how beautiful she was. “I promise you that I’m going to make you feel special.”

Was he serious? “Get out of here. How many times do I have to tell you no before you finally get it? I’m not interested.”

He grabbed her arm. She was surprised at how strong he was. Pulling her in for a kiss, he made brief contact before she pushed him away from her. Indignation spread through her like a wildfire. Before she could get a word out, he was grabbing at her again, telling her what he wanted to do with her.

“Gag me with a spoon.”, she said. “You’re gross. I wouldn’t let you touch me with a ten foot pole.”

“As you wish.”, he said as he opened the silverware drawer. Grabbing her again, he took hold of her hair.

The last thing she saw was a shiny spoon, heading toward her face.


The following short story is another one based upon a prompt taken from “The Amazing Story Generator”. The prompt this time was:

Despite a disapproving family, a plus size model is initiated into a secret cult.

No matter how many magazines I’m in, all my family sees is a fat girl who needs to go on a diet. They don’t understand or care that it’s because of how I look that we all got to take that awesome vacation to Bermuda last year. Despite the fact that I paid for the tickets, rooms…well, you name it…when it came time to go out onto the beach not a one of them would sit by me. They all made their excuses. Mom needed to lie down. Dad was hungry. My sister and brother didn’t want to sit in the sun. It really stung.

Of course they went out to eat and shopping with me. After all, they wanted me to pay for that too. On our fourth night we went to a fantastic restaurant. There were so many choices on the menu that I ordered several appetizers so that we could all sample a variety. The entire time I was placing the appetizer order, my mother clucked her tongue disapprovingly while my siblings snickered behind their hands. The insults and snide comments had finally taken their toll, and I snapped. “Why don’t you fuckers figure out how to pay for this without me? The fat lady has lost her appetite”.

My father sat there gaping while my mother made a comment about my language as I stormed off. I was so angry that I even called the airline to see if I could leave early. There were no flights available, so I was stuck here. The perfect beaches and beautiful weather had been marred. Fortunately I was able to get another room so that I wouldn’t have to face my sister. Little miss perfect had married a lawyer and was a stay at home mom. Our parents thought that she was the ideal woman with the ideal life. They had no idea that she made herself throw up almost every time she ate to stay thin for her cheating husband. She thought that it would make him stay.

My super hero brother was really something too. He had lost his last three jobs at top marketing firms because he had missed too many days of work due to being hung over. Mom and dad were naive enough to believe that all of his bosses had it out for him, despite the fact that he got bombed at every holiday meal. Hell, last Christmas he got sick in one of mom’s poinsettias. They made excuses for him, saying that he just got carried away and had a little too much fun from time to time. That he needed to blow off steam from his high stress job. I could go on about all of them. Yes including mom and dad, but I won’t. The point is that I was sick and tired of them being so critical of me when none of us are perfect.

I managed to steer clear of them for most of the rest of the vacation. After all, I had a photo shoot and an interview so it was easy for me to fib and say that I worked later, or that I had a meeting. Truth be told, I think that they were just as relieved as I was to spend the rest of our trip apart. On the flight back, we all put on our polite smiles and talked about nothing. It was the safest topic. As soon as the plane touched down, we all went our separate ways.

I was just thinking that none of us had talked for three weeks and was about to call mom and dad when an ad on TV distracted me. There was a conference coming to town later this week that was all about learning to love yourself no matter how other people made you feel. Screw it! I called the number on the screen and bought a ticket instead of calling my mother. As soon as the ticket was purchased, I hung up the phone and went to the freezer for that pint of ice cream that was calling my name.

The work week flew by. I had been booked every day, and spent several evenings in meetings with my agent. Finally, the night of the conference came. I found myself in tears early in the event. It was like they were talking directly to me. They spoke of families who degraded one another to the point that a person had almost no sense of self worth, no matter how successful they were. As the evening wore on, I could have sworn that they had somehow seen footage of my family. Then they got into how to recover self esteem and learn to live confidently. There was a whole program to sign up for if you were interested…and I was.

Each time my family called to invite me to a dinner or other family function, I had to decline. Between work and my new group I was entirely too busy. Just when I started to feel bad about never seeing any of them, my mother called and laid a guilt trip on me. My group leader had said that something like this would happen. It was amazing how insightful these people were! What would I do without them? How had I managed before they came along? As soon as I hung up with my mother, I dialed the crisis number we were given, and as soon as I provided my credit card number I was connected to a special counselor.

After several months had gone by, my accountant called with concerns about the rate at which I was spending money. My group leader had predicted that this would happen too. The group warned me that the people in my life were all looking out for themselves. Once more I called the crisis line. I was so upset that I needed a double session this time. The next day, my dad dropped by unannounced. He asked me to go to lunch with him to talk. It had been a long time so I agreed.

When we got to the restaurant, the whole family was there. Even my agent was there. It felt like an ambush. My family wanted to know what was going on. When I explained about my new group, my mother and sister both cried and apologized. All of them said how sorry they were to have treated me the way that they had. Of all people, my sister suggested that we all go to a real counselor together in order to work on ourselves and on the family. They had brought some articles about the group and I was aghast to see how many times they had been accused of fraud, only to slip away and go elsewhere.

After six months of therapy, things had really began to turn around. My sister had left her cheating husband and was happier than she had been in years. She and her two kids moved in with mom and dad. My brother was in his fifth successful month of AA. Mom and dad were in a group for co-dependency. Last but not least, I was learning to turn to things other than food when I was dealing with something difficult. The weight was coming off and the modeling jobs were still pouring in. Who would have ever thought that we would have to become so lost in order to find our way?

Postcard Messages

The following post is another prompt from the site I came across a little while back. The prompt was to base something on postcard messages, and I thought it would be interesting to see what could happen on opposite sides of an exchange.

“I sure wish you were here darling”. That’s the message he dashed off on the card he had quickly grabbed without even looking at the picture on it. Dropping it into the mailbox, he walked away with his mind already on the woman waiting for him at the bar down the street.

“This distance between us makes me ache to see you again. Maybe someday we’ll be lucky enough to be nearer my love. Until then we’ll have memories, promises, and hydrangeas.” This was the reply that she lovingly wrote on her carefully chosen card. She felt lucky to have gotten the last one with a photo of their favorite place to visit when he was in town. She smiled as she brushed her hand over the card he had sent, touched that he had remembered her favorite flower.

“Looks like I won’t be able to get that time away after all. I miss you baby. The boss is such a bastard.” He tossed this card into the mailbox hurriedly too and went back to where she was waiting in the car. Their bags were in the back for a romantic week at the beach. He kissed her as he got back into the car.

“I hate it that you’re working so much. Sometimes I feel as though I’ll never see you again, and we haven’t talked all week. You’re right. Your boss sucks. Need to see you soon. I love you”. She wiped a tear from her cheek before heading to the post office. Her heart was heavy with a loneliness that was so big that she could barely breathe.

The next card came and the message scrawled on it was, “Hope you’re doing well love”. She nervously opened the other piece of mail she had gotten that day, and a handful of photos fell onto the table.

She ripped his card into pieces and scrawled a message of her own in return, using the back of one of the photos to write on. “Go to hell”.

Not Guilty

Footfalls were the only sound disturbing the quiet peace of night, as the ragged man raced away from the body lying in the alley. As he turned the corner his face was illuminated by the searchlight mounted in a police car. His eyes blinded, he froze as an officer climbed out of the cruiser and walked toward him. The cop handcuffed him, read him his rights, and put him in the back of the car.
At the police station, the homeless man was taken to an interview room for questioning. He sat at the cold metal table in the stark room for what seemed like an eternity when the door finally opened. A man sat down across from him and identified himself as a detective. When asked what his name was, the man answered that it was John. The detective immediately interrupted and said, “Do not lie Carl, we already know who you are. And we know that you killed that young woman in that alley.”
Carl blinked and stammered out, “I swear I was running because I saw the blood and felt scared.” The detective told him to save his breath because he was being charged with first degree murder. Carl looked truly shocked but decided to ask for a lawyer instead of trying to defend himself. After all, who would believe him with his record? Over the years on the streets, he had been arrested several times for things ranging from theft to assault which he claimed was self defense to no avail.
A week later, Carl found himself in a courtroom where it was determined that he should be held for trial. On shaky legs, he found himself being led back to the courthouse for the trial a month later. After three long days of testimony and another two of deliberation a verdict was coming in.
The judge asked Carl to rise to hear the verdict. After the judge looked at the slip of paper, he handed it to his bailiff to be read by the jury foreman. Carl’s knees buckled as he heard the word “Guilty!” resound throughout the courtroom. He was sent back to his cell to await sentencing.

Upon returning to the courtroom Carl rose as the judge prepared to read his sentence. The only words he could remember clearly were, “Life without possibility of parole”. As he sat handcuffed to the bench waiting to be taken to prison; the judge approached, leaned, and whispered with an ugly smile, “Not guilty Carl. She was my mistress and had threatened to tell my wife.”