Punchline

“Then, she says, ‘I’ve finally had enough’!”

He was laughing so hard by this time it was difficult to make out what he was saying. The only things I could be sure of was that Josh thought his raunchy joke was hilarious, and that it truly wasn’t.

I was standing by the buffet table as far from him as I could be and he still managed to make eye contact right at the moment I looked his direction. He did that stupid frat boy chin wave, and winked as he made his way over to me. In my mind I was frantically trying to find an escape route, but Kathy, our receptionist had cornered me by the punch bowl and was holding my cup hostage while she told me about her latest OPI nail enamel obsession.

“It’s called Little Red Wagon,” she said, splaying her fingers so I could see how the light bounced off the hint of glimmer in the polish. “It’s part of the Holiday Toyland Collection.”

I maneuvered around so Kathy was between me and Josh, keeping an eye on his progress and trying to look interested in the Christmas-themed nails of my co-worker.

“It’s lovely.”

Kathy’s back was turned away from Josh as she wiggled her fingers at me. He stepped up behind her, a tumbler of Jack on ice in one hand, and her right ass cheek in his other.

“It really is lovely,” he growled in her ear.

She was at least coy enough to blush before moving away from his lascivious grasp, giggling like a school girl. Adjusting her skirt back into place, Kathy ran a trembling hand over her expertly coifed hair. Averting her eyes, she made some incoherent comment about having to check on getting more ‘ass’ for the drinks.

Realizing what she said, she giggled again and left me to the wolves, or rather the lone wolf.

Josh was now standing beside me, lightly running his fingertips along the back of my arm. I fought the urge to gag as I felt bile rise in my throat, the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

“Did you hear my joke just now,” from the muffled tone of his voice, I could tell he had his head turned, his attention now on my ass. “If you didn’t, I can tell it to you in private.”

I had to swallow hard to keep from telling him what he could do to himself in private, but I knew that he’d turn that insult around on me.

“I did hear it,” inching away from him, twitching my arm slightly to make him stop touching me. I’ve never had much of a poker face, and I wondered if the total disgust I felt was evident in the sneer I knew was taking the place of my earlier smile.

“Effing hilarious, right? She says, ‘I’ve had enough’! Get it?”

Making obscene hand gestures and wagging his eyebrows at me, he was grinning like a 12-year-old caught with his father’s Playboys.

All I could do was close my eyes, and take a deep breath. Josh must have taken that as a sign that his vulgar story had the desired effect on me. His rancid whispers were hot on my neck, his roaming hand found the small of my back and began to inch lower.

“Why don’t you come back to my office, I can retell the joke for you, just in case you missed the good parts.”

That Monday, the whole office staff was crammed into the break room. Peter, the division manager, was explaining how Josh broke his nose and lost two teeth at the company Christmas party over the weekend.

“She says, ‘I’ve finally had enough,’ and started throwing ‘bows. Caught him right in the face, twice. You could hear bone crack all the way to the bar. He was bleeding everywhere. Gawd, it was the funniest damn thing I’ve ever seen. Could not stop laughing!

“No, she’s not getting fired. If it were up to me I’d give her a promotion. He’s had that coming for years. Only reason he’s not been sacked before is because he’s the owner’s son. I can guaran-damn-tee you, that’ll be the last time he says or does anything even remotely inappropriate around her.”

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Diane challenged me with “She says, ‘I’ve finally had enough’.” and I challenged Liz with “Always do sober what you said you’d do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.”

In and up

Walked around downtown Pensacola this weekend, taking in some of the interesting architecture along Palafox and Garden… looking in and up.

(Photos shot with a Nikon D60, using an 18-55mm, 55-200mm, 20mm f/2.8 wide-angle, 50mm f/1.8 prime lens, Nikon CoolPix S205 and/or iPhone4)

For more photos, please visit my Flickr photostream.

More Weekly Winners photo galleries can be found at I am Lotus. Please leave a little comment love for our lovely hostess and the other WW photogs.

Unknown MamiTo see other city scenes from around the world, check out Unknown Mami’s Sundays in My City. Don’t forget to show the love to Mami and the other City contributors.

Lucky crane

She was a waitress at one of the city’s most popular eateries. A few times a week he would dine there, asking to sit in her section. They’d pretend they weren’t a couple. He’d flirt, she’d flirt back. She would see that he got extra big helpings of food, he would leave her outlandish tips. Sometimes he would write love notes on her ticket.

On special occasions, he would fold one of the tip dollars into an origami piece of art. He left her cranes for good luck and dragons for protection just to see one of her bright smiles.

The 100 Word Challenge, a writing prompt created by Velvet Verbosity, takes a single theme to tell a story in only 100 words ~ no more, no less. This week’s theme is ‘Lucky.’

This piece is an adaptation from the NaNoWriMo project I’ve been writing this month. More of the entire rough draft can be found at ‘Where’s George.”

Tryptophan hangover

What eyes did betray
When the stomach knew too well
So many choices

Resolve surrendered
Coma-causing trifecta
Turkey, yams, green beans

Jeans button unsnapped
Remorse, regret settled in
Second slice of pie

BETRAY transitive verb \bi-ˈtrā, bē-\
3: to fail or desert especially in time of need


Trifecta, a weekly one-word prompt, challenges writers to use the selected word in its third definition form, using no less than 33 word or no more than 333. The week’s prompt is: Betray.

This senryu poem is also submitted for Haiku Friday with Lou.

Unlike haiku, which traditionally focuses on Mother Nature, senryu highlights human nature. Also a style of Japanese poetry, senryu follows the same form as haiku – 17 syllables in three lines (5-7-5).

In a fishbowl

Not one day, one hour can pass without some fragment of our lives being broadcast to the world. A simple question is transformed into an indictment against our very existence. An innocent photo can be manipulated, twisted into the most grotesque caricature.

Where once rumors would range only as far as the next office, or the next street, the extent is now limitless. Like a wicked fog covering the whole of the country, sending out tendrils dripping with venomous lies and innuendo. A virus infecting everything it touches.

Murmurings in the dark between lovers are whispered into other ears, passed from finger-tips to finger-tips. Roving eyes drinking in words meant to be shared with one person, flash brightly across the sky for all to read.

Nothing is sacrosanct. Privacy is a farce. If it can be spoken, written, seen, it’s for public consumption, open for discussion or ridicule. Motives are hotly debated by strangers who have no right to insert themselves into personal tragedies and heartbreak. All the while demanding attention be shown to the revelations of their truths, no matter how destructive and malicious, or wrong. Like some macabre sideshow, we can’t look away. A bloody train wreck to entertain until we are dragged into the carnage and cry foul.

There is nowhere to hide. Once we dive into the constant rushing stream of information we’re just lost souls swimming in a fish bowl year after year.

Once you put something on the Internet ~ an OverHeard by your Significant Other or child, that photo of your baby naked in a tub, or a drunken shot of you at last year’s New Years party, even that rant about a bitch of a co-worker ~ it’s there forever. Even if you purge all your Facebook or Twitter, or blog posts, it’s still Out There somewhere. We have become both a nation of voyeurs and exhibitionists.

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Lance challenged me with “We’re just (two) lost souls swimming in a fish bowl year after year” and I challenged Mera with “He looked like something that had gotten loose from Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade“.