Tag Archives: Short story

Short story: Segovia’s revenge

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“I’m supposed to be married,” the shrunken form of what was once a man uttered bitterly from across the room. He paced nervously, biting at what remained of his fingernails and occasionally drawing blood. He didn’t even feel it anymore. He didn’t feel much of anything except for the loss that drove him into himself.

“There was supposed to be a band, and cake,” he lamented to no one in particular, and no one in particular listened anymore, each too involved in their own living hell. “We were going to go to Hawaii and then get a house, have kids, and….” His eyes became unfocused as he stared off into the distant past and his voice trailed off.

He fell and lay limp of the cold tile floor. Another patient pointed and laughed, but most had grown bored of his theatrics and roundly ignored them. No one talked to him, each thinking his madness beyond what was permissible, even in the confines of the ward.

“Why don’t we go for a little walk, Mr. Salzburg,”  a kindly tech said as she offered him a hand. “We don’t want to be late again, do we?”

“What?” Mr. Salzburg said, confused by the question, before accepting her assistance. “No, we wouldn’t want that,” he agreed, not really certain to what she referred.

“That’s it. We’ll take a little walk and then you can see Dr. Segovia and you two can have a chance to talk. He’s very eager to hear your story.”

“He is?” The patient lit up, ready to tell his story again. “When can we meet him?”

“Right now, of course,” the tech replied, leading him through a series of locked doors before walking out into a long corridor, devoid of warmth. It was lit with harsh fluorescent lighting, no windows, and painted a neutral beige color which seemed to sap the heat from the patients. They all shivered even though the temperature was kept at a moderate 72 degrees.

Mr. Salzburg shuffled beside the tech who kept a hand on the patient’s elbow, both to lead him and to prevent him from running away. Within minutes, they walked into a waiting room that was locked from the inside, to prevent the patients from trying to escape. The pair sat in the lobby, which was decidedly warming with plush carpeting and a warm color palette, but with little in the way of decorations. The few painting on the wall were bolted in place, and all the furniture was bolted to the floor. Nothing that could be used as a weapon was allowed.

“Jon, thank you for joining me today.” A short man, in his early fifties, walked out of an office and stood in front of the patient. “That’ll be all for now, Edna,” the doctor said to the tech, who merely bowed her head and walked out without another word. “Why don’t we come into my office?”

Mr. Salzburg stood up and shuffled into the office and sat down on a couch across from a large leather armchair, into which the doctor sat. Picking up Salzburg’s medical record, Dr. Segovia scanned the file before setting it down and picking up a notepad. “Why don’t we start this from the top again?”

“The top?”

“Yes,” the doctor replied wearily. “What do you remember? Can you tell me?”

“I was supposed to get married,” Salzburg said, his voice clearly agitated but otherwise remaining calm. “The was going to be a band and cake, and then we were going to go to Hawaii before getting a house and raising a family.”

“I see,” the doctor nodded. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, can you tell me why you didn’t get married? Can you tell me why you didn’t get to go to Hawaii and why all your plans fell through? Why are you here instead of with your wife?”

“I don’t know,” Salzburg replied, perplexed by the questions.

“Okay, can you tell me who you were supposed to marry? What was she like?”

“Who I was going to marry? Her name was Laura,” he said with difficulty, straining to pull the answers that were buried deep in his memory.

“Yes, good,” the doctor leaned in, excited at the potential breakthrough. “What else?”

“Laura was a lively girl, always excited to talk to everyone.” Salzburg closed his eyes as flood of memories overwhelmed him. “Yes, she was outgoing, but you see, she chose me. She was popular, but she agreed to go out with me. Why would she do that?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Segovia urged him gently.

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “I wasn’t anything special, but I screwed up the courage to ask her out, and we hit it off. We were going to get married, but we didn’t.”

“No, you didn’t,” the doctor agreed. “Tell me more about her and about what happened.”

“Laura loved to dance. She insisted on the band, and I gave in. I always gave in to her. I was powerless to deny her anything, until….”

“Until what?”

“I – I don’t want to talk about it.” Salzburg folded his arms and tried to shut everything out, the doctor and the memories.

“But you need to talk about it. What is it that you’re trying to remember. Speak!”

“I – I can’t,” he cried. “I was supposed to be married. I wanted to be married. I never thought I would find anyone and then I found Laura and now…. Why did she have to die?”

“I think that’s enough for now,” Dr. Segovia spoke up abruptly. “We don’t need to get there just yet.”

“Why not?” Salzburg yelled indignantly. “You brought it up.”

“Are you ready for the answer? Do you really want to know why she died?”

“Yes – well no,” Salzburg collapsed into the couch. “She really is gone?”

“Yes, I’m afraid she is.”

“And I’m the one that found her?”

“I don’t think you’re ready for the answer.”

“But I need to know. You made me remember. I held her in my arms as she bled, begging me not to…”

“Not to what?”

“I – I killed her,” Salzburg’s face drained of color, his face as stark as the walls of the hospital.

“Yes, you killed her.”

“Why would I do that? We were going to be married.”

“No, you weren’t,” the doctor replied. “She never agreed to go out with you, and she never agreed to marry you. She was engaged to someone else, and in a fit of jealousy you killed them both. You’re here because a judge ordered you here for evaluation. That was five years ago.”

“Five years,” Salzburg closed his eyes and thought back. “Yes, I killed her. Why couldn’t she just love me?”

“I can’t answer that,” Segovia replied, “but I’m satisfied that you remember what you did and are fit.”

“Fit for what?”

“To pay for your crime,” the doctor replied as he filled out a form and then pushed a button on the table next to him.

“What are you talking about.”

“You confessed, did you not? Didn’t you just say you killed her?”

“I did, but what do you mean pay for my crime?”

“Just that. You know what you did, and admitted it. That’ll suffice. You’re guilty and therefore able to pay. You’ve been sentenced to death.”

“I don’t understand,” he cried as two large orderlies entered the office.

“You don’t have to understand,” Segovia admitted with a grin. “You just have to understand the crime, which you’ve admitted to. Good bye.”

“No, wait,” he yelled as the orderlies grabbed him by the arms and pinned him to the couch. “You’re a doctor. Aren’t you supposed to help me?”

“Help you?” Segovia laughed as he pulled a syringe from his desk. “I’m here to help the victims get closure. Don’t worry. It’ll be painless. In a few minutes you’ll be dead.”

“No! You can’t do this!” Salzburg struggled, but he was no match for the men who held him. “You can’t do this!”

“Tut tut,” Segovia said dryly as he chose the vein into which to stick the needle. Slowly he plunged the drug into his arm and Salzburg stopped struggling. “You see? Painless. A better way to go than the way you butchered my daughter. Goodbye.”

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Short Story: In love with Bella

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He knew it was pointless to check, but Guy couldn’t help himself. It seemed that all power to resist had been stripped from him, and all he could do was submit to an impulse that robbed him all hope of joy from his life.

Guy opened up his laptop, logged back into his Facebook, and searched for her. Bella was unlike all the other girls he had known in his life, all the girls that he ever dated. Not that those girls weren’t beautiful in their own way, but Bella was different, special in some undefinable way. She had a way of making him smile, of coaxing his better nature out of him. She also exposed the worst in him as well.

Her profile came up, and he sighed as he caressed her photo on the screen, wishing it was her face instead of the cold pixels in front of him. Guy wanted nothing more than to kiss her lips, to hold her against him, to feel her warmth against his skin. All he wanted was for Bella to love him as much as he loved her.

As if! She barely registered his existence, unless she needed something from him. Twenty years removed from the hell that consumed him in high school, and somehow she transported him back to those days. The same feelings on inadequacy, of being duped to do what ever she needed on the thin, unlikely chance that she might grace him with her presence.

He berated himself, of course, knowing that he had no chance in hell of securing even a lunch date. He wasn’t her type. She preferred tall and handsome men, athletic with an alpha personality. Guy was short and insecure, not ugly per se, but just not classically attractive. He was average to the point of being invisible.

“I love you,” he scoffed at the unhearing screen, lamenting his bad luck in having met her. No hope existed but he remained helplessly enthralled by her grace and her poise. He loved the way she smiled, and the way her eyes lit up when ever she saw him. Then again, she lit up when ever she got her way, and she knew how to make him do anything she needed.

Cursing his weakness, he closed his laptop as his cell phone rang. With a glance, he saw that Helena was calling, another one of his co-workers. “Hey,” he answered unenthusiastically. “What’s up?”

“Oh, not much,” came the nervous response. “I was just wondering, you know if you’re not busy, if-you’d-like-to-join-us-at-the-movies,” Helena sped through the invite. “I mean, not like a date, really. Just some of us from work are going, and I thought maybe you’d like to come.”

“I don’t know,” Guy said as he rubbed his temple. “I’m kind of tired.”

“I understand,” Helena replied, trying not to sound disappointed. “Bella’s not going to be there, so I didn’t think you would go. I just hoped you’d come with me, well I mean us, any ways, but it’s cool. I – I guess I’ll see you at work?”

“Yeah, probably.” Guy set the phone down, not giving Helena another opportunity to say anything. She was cute in her own way, and probably a better match for him, but she was no Bella, and she probably wouldn’t give him the time of day. She deserved better than him anyhow.

A few minutes later his phone rang again. Praying that it wasn’t Helena again, he checked and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Bella’s name on the screen. “Hello?”

“Um, hey Guy!” Bella said in the overly cheery voice she used when she wanted something from him. “You busy tonight?”

“What? Me?” He laughed. “Nah. I’m just chilling at home. What you need?”

“I need a big favor.”

“Anything!”

“Mark from Electronics just called and asked me out at the last minute. I was hoping you could watch my son for a few hours. We’re just going to have a few drinks, maybe grab a bite to eat. We shouldn’t be out too late. I have to work in the morning.”

“Oh, I suppose,” he agreed, the small bubble of hope that had risen in his chest bursting. He chided himself for even entertaining the illusion that she had called for anything more than that.

“You’re a doll! I’ll drop him off in about an hour. I totally owe you. I haven’t forgotten that we’re supposed to grab drinks after work. You did ask and I said yes. Remember?”

“Oh, I remember. Last fucking year,” he added quietly. Bella got off the phone, leaving him to feel more like floor mat than a man. If only he had taken Helena’s offer to go to he movie, but no. It didn’t matter anyway. Bella owned him and they both knew it. He cursed himself for being a pushover but what could he do? He was in love.

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Short Story: Valentine’s Day Proposal

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Have you ever found yourself in a situation beyond all comprehension? I mean something so out there that it defies all logic and you end up sitting there, unable to act, rendered mute by your inability to grasp what had happened?

I sat there as Mariann walked away, unable to hear the tittering of the crowd around me. Some tried to ignore the scene of a grown man with a bowl of spaghetti on his head. I wish I could say I tried to remain dignified, but there’s no dignity to be found while spaghetti sauce drips off your nose and runs into your mouth. I registered that the sauce was delicious, and it brought me out of my stunned stupor and I began to clean myself up. My server helped as well, failing to disguise the laughter in his eyes.

I hate Valentine’s Day. I really, really do. I don’t know what else to say to be even more emphatic about my loathing for the day. I wish I could ignore the day. I wish I would’ve taken Mariann’s advice and tried not to make a big deal of it, but I’m not so foolish enough to heed her advice. No man is. What I had hoped to do was to have a quiet dinner, followed by a movie of her choosing. Dinner and a movie. What could possibly go wrong?

I picked her up at home, and she looked absolutely stunning. Mariann is a petite young woman who if you don’t know her, has you believing that she’s helpless and vulnerable. She’s a formidable person, with a big personality and a cutting wit. That was what attracted me to her in the first place. Fiery, as redheads are wont to be.

We didn’t talk much on the drive to the restaurant, an Italian bistro, if you haven’t already deduced by the image of my pasta-topped noggin. We ordered a bottle of wine, she was in the mood for a Moscato, and then enjoyed a Caesar salad while we waited for the main. She was quiet, which I found odd since she’s one of the most talkative persons I know.

“Did I do something wrong?” I asked, unable to help myself.

“Hmm? Oh, no,” she shook her head. “I’m just lost in thought.”

“Okay,” I said as I took another bite of my salad. I glanced up and saw that she was looking at the table beside us where some jackass had gotten on one knee and proposed to his girlfriend. God! I hate Valentine’s Day! I really didn’t need that kind of pressure.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” she sighed wistfully. “Everyone I know is married, getting married, having kids…. When will it be my turn?”

See what I’m saying? How did I respond? I didn’t. I was a lout with a mouthful of salad, and it’s all I could do not to choke as I tried to swallow. I finally managed to do so and I took a steadying drink of my wine as I attempted to say something, but there was nothing for me to say. I had missed my opportunity to do so.

“Have you given any thought to us?” She said casually, still looking at the recently engaged couple beside us, locked in a passionate embrace while all those around us applauded them.

“Well, you know I…” I mumbled, trying to find something to hold on to as I witnessed our date spiraling out of control.

“Not that I’m asking for a commitment,” she hastily added as she realized my discomfort. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to strong-arm you into anything.”

“No, I never thought you were,” I laugh, the relief in my tone all too noticeable. I chuckle again as I take another sip of wine. “Yeah, I guess I have thought about us, if you must know. You’re the first person in a long time that I feel I could spend my life with. You are my cuddle bunny, after all.”

“Yeah, I guess. I know I’m not making any sense. I’ve always prided myself at being independent, at not needing any man to take care of me. I don’t need you and if you were to leave it wouldn’t hurt all that much.”

“Oh,” I say, my wounded pride escaping her notice as she looked over to the bastards seated at the table next to us. I hoped they would choke on the complementary gelato, which I don’t know if it’s really possible.

“All the same,” she smiled at me, “you’re the first person ever that has made me think that giving up my independence might not be such a bad thing.”

“Why should you give up your independence for me?” I ask as our server brings out a large bowl of spaghetti, drenched in their delectable red sauce. “I would never ask you to give up anything for me? That’s just plain stupid!”

Next thing you know, Mariann threw herself out of her chair, grabbed the bowl out of the unsuspecting server and dropped the contents over my head, along with the bowl, before stomping away in a huff. I think I just found out what I said wrong. Poor choice of words.

As I was dabbing the last of the sauce off my new white shirt, one that I’ll never wear again, when she emerged from her hiding place, looking rather contrite. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she apologized in a small voice.

“And I shouldn’t have answered the way I did. I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t we go back to my place and while you wash up, I’ll make us something to eat.”

“It’s probably best,” I answered. I paid for our abortive night out, and we headed on over to her place, all eyes on us as we walked out, a story for them to share at work on Monday.

***

I wash out all the spaghetti sauce out of my hair and ears and I get out of the shower. I put on a clean, albeit old and faded pair of jeans, and a thread-worn t-shirt. I walk downstairs as Mariann throws a frozen lasagna into the oven. I’m still a little angry at her for her outburst, but I can’t resist putting my arms around her and kissing her on the top of her head.

“I love you, crazy woman.”

“I love you, too,” she purrs happily.

“As I was trying to say, before I was so rudely assaulted, is that I wouldn’t expect you to give up anything for me. I think that makes for a bad marriage.”

“I agree. Go on.”

“If we do get married, I want to be with the girl I fell in love with, with all her baggage, the good and the bad, the passion and the fire. I don’t want some trophy wife in a cage to pull out and show everyone. ‘Look at me! I got the girl!’ No. I want you. I love you, insanity and all.”

“Good. Then yes, I’ll marry you.”

“I don’t remember asking,” I say.

“Then maybe you should consider asking. A girl like me doesn’t come around very often, you know.”

“Thank goodness.” I joke, earning a deserved punch on my arm. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Your impossible,” Mariann responds as she shoves me playfully away.”

“Poor way to treat your fiancée, don’t you think?”

“But you haven’t asked.”

“Bah, formalities,” I argue, but I go down on one knee and take her hand. “Mariann, will you marry me?”

“Wow! I didn’t expect this. I’ll have to think about it. Get back to you later?”

“Who’s impossible now?”

“Still you, but that’s why I love you. And I think I already gave you my answer, before you asked. There is one thing we’re going to have to give up for each other.”

“No there isn’t, but I’ll ask anyway. What?”

“I don’t want you to date or sleep with other women, and I think it would be best if I don’t date or sleep with other men.”

“You’re right. That’s a good idea. But I can still date and sleep with other men?” I joke.

“Nope! You’re mine now, and I’m yours. Oh, and by the way. You need to see this. My friend text this to me while you were in the shower. I’m going to have it printed and framed.”

I take her phone and her friend snapped a photo of me, looking bewildered with the bowl of spaghetti on my head. “It’s perfect,” I laugh. “Is that going out with the wedding invites?”

She kisses me and laughs. “I love you,” she says but she doesn’t answer the question. She doesn’t need to, and frankly I don’t want her to. I’d rather enjoy the surprise.

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Short Story: On the losing end

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The moment she walked in, I knew it was over. I could read the pain on her face, as well as a resigned determination to get what she came to do over with. I expected anger, I expected tears, I especially expected to be yelled at. What I didn’t expect was the bombshell she dropped on me when she sat down.

“I’m pregnant, Dave,” she said coldly, relishing the pain her unexpected news had caused me.

“P – pregnant,” I stammered, trying to grasp what she was saying. “But how? I thought we couldn’t…,” I finished lamely.

“No,” she grinned maliciously, “you couldn’t and I married you anyway. I gave up my right to motherhood for you, and this is how you repay me?”

“Repay you?” I yelled. “You’re pregnant! Who the hell is the father?”

“Who can say?” she teased. “Could be anyone, I suppose. Why does it matter?”

“Because you’re my wife, that’s why,” I yell, pounding the table between us for greater effect.

She looked at me, unfazed by my outburst. I could see contempt in her eyes, but also pity. I could stand the contempt, but why should she feel sorry for me? I wanted to strike back, to beat the woman who betrayed me and made a mockery out of my manhood. She silenced me with one question. “How long were you cheating on me?”

Just like that, the heat of my anger grew cold, and the reason we sat in a sterile conference room became clear once more. I opened my mouth to answer, but no sound escaped my lips. I closed my mouth when I became aware just how ridiculous I appeared, but it was too late. I swallowed and took a deep breath before I gave her an answer. “That was the only time, the time you caught me. What about you? How long have you been…”

“Don’t try to turn this on me,” she hissed angrily. “I caught you over a year ago, sleeping with Dan’s wife” She leaned back and folded her arms as she scrutinized me, making me feel somehow small. “Your best friend from college, and you slept with his wife. What would he think?”

“Please don’t,” I plead, not wanting to hear what I knew was to come. But she surprised me.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you, for over a year, and I know all your little secrets, you text messages and emails to each other. I had you tailed and I have enough dirt to destroy you, but first I wanted to humiliate you.”

“You want to know how long I’ve been cheating on you? About four months. I waited, you see, to figure out how best to take my revenge on you, and then it hit me. I would get pregnant. Seemed a simple and elegant solution, don’t you thing?”

“That’s cold.”

“What? Don’t you want to hear the best part?” She waited for me to answer, but when I don’t she proceeds all the same. “You know Dan always wanted a kid, right? You know how his bitch of a wife refused to give him one?” I sat there in horror as the cruelty of her revelation ripped into me. “I see you can put two and two together. I told him about your rendezvous with his wife, and at first he didn’t want to have anything to do with my little plan, but I soon had him seeing things my way. By the way, he’s a much better lover than you. Don’t know why Delia’s fooling around with you.”

Without another word, she slides a packet towards me, and I know what is inside. I open to see a Waver of Service. Fill that out and we can get started with the whole divorce proceeding. I’ve already filed. We can let our lawyers hash out all the details, division of property, assets and debts, child support….”

“Child support! For a kid that’s not mine. You’re fucking crazy!”

“Funny thing,” she smirked at my indignant response. “In Texas, the husband is presumed to be the father. You’re my husband, I got pregnant while we are still legally married. In the eyes of the law, you’re going to be a father. Congratulations!”

“Bullshit,” I yell. “You can’t do this. I’ll fight it.”

“I’m sure you will, and I’m sure we may find some middle ground. Or not. Either way, this marriage is over. I hope she way worth it and I hope you two will be happy together.”

Fuming, I sign the waver and hand it back to her. She slides it into a folder and stands up. “I’m sorry it had to come to this. Believe it or not, I still love you and wish I didn’t have to do this, but I refuse to let you do to me what my father did to my mother. I deserve better. Good bye, James.”

In less time than it took to get her from the parking garage, she managed to take control and destroy me. Part of me was impressed and proud, but mostly I hated the bitch because I hate to lose and I lost this round. I’d have to wait and see what my lawyers would have to say, but regardless, this wouldn’t be cheap no matter how quickly and quietly we resolved this.

As I stood up to leave, my phone rang and I noticed Delia calling me. “What’s up?”

“Hey, James,” I heard her say and I could tell that she’d been crying. “Dan confronted me about us, and I can’t do this anymore. I can’t lose him.”

“What are you saying?”

“I had fun but it’s over between us.”

“What? You know he got my wife pregnant.”

“Yes, I know, but you don’t understand. I love him. You were great, but Dan’s the guy I’ve loved since forever. I made a mistake and we’re going to try to work it out. Don’t fight this, James. I won’t give him up. Not for you.” She hung up and I’m left to deal with the reality that I lost not once, but twice. I made a fool out of Dan but he got me back as well. I’m left with nothing but a bitter taste in my mouth.

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Short story: Revenge is but a game

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Natalie absent-mindedly stirred her martini before pulling out the skewer and eating the olive. Her eyes were locked onto her friend who sat uncharacteristically quiet. After a few more minutes, the silence got to her and she blurted out, “Is this why you asked me out for cocktails, to sit in awkward silence all night?

“Hmm?” Ana said, looking confused for a moment before clearing her head. “No. I’m sorry. I’m just lost in a fog.”

“You don’t say.” Natalie grinned. in spite of feeling annoyed at her friend, she allowed Ana the luxury of revealing her thoughts in her time. She had always been patient when ever Natalie needed to vent. She owed it to her friend to be patient.

“So there’s this guy…,” Ana began.

“Oh!” Comprehension dawning, Natalie leaned in and teased, “So you finally found a guy you like? I thought you gave up on men after you left Chad.”

“No, I loathe him,” Ana replied, much to Natalie’s surprise, “and I need him to fall in love with me.”

“What…, wait, what?! Natalie asked, uncertain if she had understood her correctly.

“I want him to fall deeply and helplessly in love with me.”

Trying to make sense of the utterly insane, she finished the last of her martini in one gulp and asked the bartender for another. Maybe being out-and-out drunk would help her process the logic behind the statement.

“You, Ana, who swore off guys and have only bedded the occasional woman, want a man to fall in love with you? What the fucking hell crazy shit is that? I can’t…I mean… you and him…, I…, what the fuck, man?

“I can see you’re having a hard time figuring this out.”

“Well, no shit, Sherlock! It’s not like you’ve given me a hell of a lot of clues to work this out with. And thank you, Ernesto,” she turned to the hot bartender, her eyes working their way down his back side – what I’d give to spank that ass! – before realizing Ana was rolling her eyes at her. “What? It’s polite to say thank you.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” Ana shook her head at her. “Like I was planning on saying before you interrupted me…. Will you stop looking at his ass!” Ana said louder than she had intended, causing everyone at the bar, including a slightly embarrassed, but admittedly pleased looking Ernesto who gave Natalie a wink before turning to give a guy his beer and a high-five.

“Sorry, Captain Subtlety. Please continue.”

“You remember my roommate Lucy?”

“The socially shy bookworm with low self-esteem and anxiety issues but who somehow possesses the kind of body I would kill for? I vaguely remember her.”

“She was dating a guy…”

“Finally getting some. Good for her!”

“…who turned out to be a jack-ass.” Ana continued, ignoring the interruption. “He totally made a pass at me, in front of Lucy. She was devastated.”

“Total douchebag. Never liked him.”

“Lucy kicked him out, but he somehow has my number and he’s been texting me, trying to get me to go out with him. I finally said yes.”

“But what would Lucy do if she found out.”

“She’s the one who convinced me to do it.”

“I don’t think this martini is going to help. She downed her drink and coughed. “Otro martini, por favor,” she said in a very white accent.

“Lucy wants revenge, and she’s convinced that I’m the one to do it.”

“So the plan is to make him fall in love with you, and then what? Dump him?”

“Something like that. We want to humiliate him and totally emasculate him for what he did to poor Lucy. She deserves better than the few jerks she’s managed to find over the years.”

“And getting revenge for yourself never crossed your mind?” Natalie asked shrewdly.

“Me get revenge? That’s absurd! He hurt Lucy, not me!”

“No, but revenge on men, any man. I don’t believe for a moment you enjoy dating women. When you do go out, it ends up being platonic most of the time. When you do end up in bed, it’s because you had a couple of drinks too many. No, you haven’t given up on men, per se, but rather you’re trying not to get hurt again.”

“Who’s being absurd now?”

“Still you,” Natalie replied. “Hey, if you want to make this guy your bitch, I’m behind you all the way. I hate it that girls like Lucy get run over all the time by assholes like him. I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. In spite of your crusty exterior, you’re a bit of a romantic and totally waiting for your prince. Just be careful, okay?”

“Sure,” Ana said. “Maybe we should let it go, huh?”

“You should, but maybe – and this may be the drink talking – but maybe there’s a way to humiliate him without resorting to making him fall in love with you.”

“Well,” Ana smiled mischievously, “he did send Lucy a rather compromising photo of himself, and she forwarded it to me.”

“Do tell?”

“It involves him, buck naked, with what can be described as a less-than-impressive endowment.”

“I like where this is heading. Are you suggesting we post it online?”

“Why not? Men are always posting revenge porn pics of their exes? Why can’t we?”

“Because it’s morally reprehensible, that’s why, so we better do it before I sober up and officially know better. Do you have his picture? I’d like to see what he has?”

“Sure, here it is,” Ana deadpanned as she handed Natalie her cellphone.

“Let’s see this guy tiny…OH MY GOD! THAT’S MY DAD!” Natalie yelled as she threw Ana’s phone back at her.

“Revenge, bitch!” Ana laughed maliciously. “That’s what you get for getting me drunk and having my make out with my cousin in the dark! I told you I’d get you back!”

“You did,” Natalie moaned, the image of her naked father scaring her psyche. “Maybe I’ll make you sleep with your mother.”

“Nope. I think we should agree that the whole incest angle should be retired before one of us ends up giving birth to our own sibling.”

“Agreed, besides, I have something even more evil planned.”

“We already agreed nothing illegal.”

“Well, drats. Then I’m out of ideas. You win.”

“Good. I guess that means you have to do my laundry for a month?”

“Best two out of three?”

“I don’t think so,” Ana laughed. “I won fair and square. We can start a new game next month, once my laundry is done. For now, I think I’ll savor my win and gloat. Ernesto? Dos tequilas and your phone number for the lady. I think she deserves a consolation prize.”

Short Stories

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