Wanted to try my hand at something a little different today – a little flash fiction. I picked 500 words as the limit and visited a random topic generation site (http://writingexercises.co.uk/dialogue-generator.php). There were lots of different options for generating random aspects of a story and I picked the Random Dialogue Generator. “What a thing to say – and on my birthday!” came up and I got busy. Below is what happened when I put my fingers on the keyboard. Feel free to do your own in the comments section!
It was a good thing I had just blown out the candles because her words took my breath away.
“What a thing to say – and on my birthday!”
“I know the timing is bad but we’re checking you in tomorrow morning. We got the call about the open space yesterday and there was a lot to take care of before we could sign the papers.”
“What the fuck?! How long have you been planning this? My committal?”
“You have some serious problems that you’ve not been able to deal with on your own. You’ve tried. We’ve tried to help you but nothing has worked. We really feel that this is the only option left.”
“We feel?! Who the fuck do you think you are?”
I can sense the other diners staring at us. I know I’m shouting but I feel like I need to shout louder, to flip the table over, to release the massive wave of rage that is pounding against my chest. And so I do. Roaring like a bear, I shove my chair back as I grip and lift the table’s edge. My vision has grown soft around the edges and I’m focused solely on her and the expression of shock on her face.
A part of me knows that I’ve just made the situation so much worse for myself but, in this moment, I don’t care. All I care about is the anger and disappointment I feel toward her – toward them. That easily tossed about “we” she’s a part of.
She’s backing away from the mess on the floor but I’m on her, grabbing at her. I can see by the fear in her eyes that she didn’t expect this reaction. Did she think she’d be safe from immediate consequences because we’re in a public place? That I’d just nod and thank her – thank them – for their concern and efforts to help “fix” me? If that was the case, she was certainly wrong. They were wrong.
Someone has a strong grip on my left shoulder and is pulling me back but I jerk away with all the strength I can muster. The momentum carries me forward and the top of my head is buried in the center of her chest, taking us both to the ground. As if it landed there just for my use, I feel the dinner fork under my right hand. I snatch it up, rear back, and slam the tines deep into her arm. She screams. The piercing sound rings in my ears as I’m knocked to the side and pinned to the floor.
There is chaos all around me but I feel nothing but calm and a deep satisfaction in knowing that she has a permanent reminder of what she – what they - have done to me. I wonder if she’ll come to visit me. It dawns on me that I never got to try my cake. I wonder if she’ll bring cake when she visits. A nice chocolate cake.