“Pass The Beer”

This piece was written for Nortina’s #1MinFiction Challenge at Lovely Curses

This week’s prompt is: “Pass The…”

*This piece was not drafted in “one” minute. For this piece, I took “one” minute to draft an ending for this unfinished short from my writing notebook.

Photo credit: wintersoul1 via Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND

“Getting rid of that flabby stomach should be at the top of your New Year’s resolutions list. Imagine what you’ll look like when we start having kids!”

His words no longer phase me. Words that tumble from the lips of a clueless fool who is himself obese and has no idea that his days are numbered. I’m less upset at his hurtful words than the fact that he is insisting that I massacre the poor bird instead of serving it as a whole for Thanksgiving dinner.

“Pass the beer from the fridge! The entire six-pack.”

I stop deboning the turkey, stab the sharp knife into its thigh and stare lovingly at it. I can’t help but fantasize about how it would feel to sink that knife deep into the middle of his shoulder blades. My face grows hot as I visualize the tip piercing his skin and then twisting it deep into his flesh. Deep, deeper and deeper still until it pops out of the front of his chest…

But I’m patiently counting down the days. I even have the date marked on the calendar hanging on the wall.

I grab the six pack and walk it over to him where he is sitting on the couch watching the football game like a couch potato. His hand is already outstretched waiting for me to place one of the bottles directly into his hand. I do as he expects and then quietly place the box on the floor next to him. His eyes are fixated on the television and as usual, he doesn’t even bother to acknowledge me with a thank you.

“Here you go Sweetie.”

The power of my one little word not only gives me his undivided attention but also a suspicious look.

“You haven’t called me Sweetie in years. Hmmm…I like it. Come here.”

He grabs my hand, forcing me to yield so that he can give me a sloppy kiss. I resist the urge to run my palm across my lips to wipe it off. As I turn to head back to the kitchen, he slaps my ass trying to be playful. I return to the kitchen to finish hacking away at the defenseless turkey.

I glance at the calendar and smile.

I still have a few weeks to hone my deboning skills.

©2017 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved.

Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a complete micro-fiction piece in, you guessed it, one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided! Of course, you can come back to edit for grammar & spelling, but the story itself must be written in a minute. Your prompt may be a photo, or a word, or a sentence—whatever inspires me, and hopefully inspires you too.





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