Tony was cycling downtown to work. It was the highlight of his godforsaken day. It was freedom. It was control. It was revenge. He clenched his whistle between his lips, ready for the inevitable. The bastards. The lousy bastards. They were everywhere. Total losers. Inconsiderate, unthinking, totally narcissistic goofs. It wasn’t once or twice. It wasn’t the occasional driver making an innocent mistake. It was an epidemic.
I feel the scream rise, but I crush it back down into a solid lump of coal, and then further, harder, until it becomes an imperfect diamond of rage stuck in my throat. I can’t let it out. I can’t swallow it. It sits, laboring my breathing. I shove it down as hard as I can, store it, just like all the others. The rage, the sorrow, the pain. It all goes to the same place.
My life is like a demented fairy tale where the princess barfs jewels and escapes the evil Prince in her shitty Honda. I should be rich from all this.
“Can you tell me what happened today?” Midlin Ambeau’s grandfather said, his eyes as clear as his interest.
Halloween was this week and we are spending more and more trying to scare kids.
You don’t need automated garden ornaments of monsters or copious amounts of fake blood to terrify them. You could just get hold of their ‘FaceshitTwitterpishInstabollocks’ contact list and un-friend them with a short message saying –
‘We’ve all seen the photo.’
LOL / GTF / BOCB
Or whatever abbreviation is hip and happening that particular week.
-I don’t know why you have to drink so much all the time.
They were sitting at a small wooden table in the kitchen. The dinner was long finished and between them were two empty plates that had been gently pushed aside, and two bottles of wine; one empty, one full.
“Don’t worry, my dear, it will be all right.” He cocked his head. “You did promise.”
Mr. Thayer moved to touch Lydia’s shoulder, but she pulled back, wrapping the thick robe tighter. Mr. Thayer – she would never have thought to call him Gregory – stood back from her. Lydia could not interpret his expression. He might have been showing a twist of amusement or contempt around his bearded lips, but mostly she felt that he was studying her as if she were an animal or a specimen. That was what he did, after all, studied and painted.
And she had promised him. She found herself blushing. At the same time, she felt in control, in some way.