The exterminator tried four formulas, but failed repeatedly to eliminate the ants, and he still expected me to pay.
When I complained, he said, “Let’s try an experiment.”
So I put cyanide in his coffee and laid his body across the ant bed.
That got rid of the little rascals.
Award-winning author Paul Lees-Haley has written for Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, Mystery Weekly Magazine, Shotgun Honey, Kings River Life, Bewildering Stories, Near to the Knuckle, Flash Fiction Offensive, The Higgs Weldon, The Alabama Writers Conclave Alalitcom, Hypertrophic Literary, Fifty Word Stories, Voices, G/C/T, CoEvolution Quarterly, Short Story, Trial, Spectrum, and many dozens of psychological and legal journals and magazines.
She stood, unsteady, surrounded by the chaotic aftermath.
Tailored suits and shirts strewn everywhere. The glittery remains of a vase sprayed across the floor. The background “whir” of a shredder, determinedly chewing on a silk tie.
And in the mirror, the mascara-smeared face of unrecognizable madness stared back at her.
Jane is a current writer, former teacher, mother, and happily married wife—unlike the character in this story. She just moved from the big city of Toronto to a teeny tiny town called Fonthill with her husband and three sons, giving her more time to write and less time to make a living.
Mommy bought me a new pair of shoes. I am not allowed to get them dirty at all. New shoes are extra special, Mommy says.
A mean man stepped in a puddle and splashed my shoes today. I punched his face.
Mommy says faces are even specialer than new shoes.
This story was based on the prompt “new shoes” at TypeTrigger.
Christopher loved his wife, his kids, his dog, his job, and himself.
The only thing in the world that Christopher couldn’t stand was unhappy people. Whenever Christopher met a sad, grumpy, or irritable person, he felt sad, grumpy, and irritable, too.
He was just like the rest of us, really.