Wrath

Wrath

A Story by Sodanlaulu
"

A porter makes efforts to manage his anger issues.

"

(F*****g stupid a*****e m**********r cocksucking shitface)


“No.” Dave shook his head and tried to remain still.


The old bum in front of him grunted and spoke again with his irritating, hoarse voice and half-incomprehensible accent. “As a citizen


(AZ A SICHIZAN GOD F*****G SHUT UP)


of this country, I have the full right to demand --”


“I said no.” The porter cut him off again. “Listen, old man. Let me break this down for you. My job right here is to keep citizens of this country from bothering the management of this facility without the proper authorization for doing so. Got it?”


“I got it " you are a rent-a-cop


(shutupshutup SHUT UP)


who is trying to portray his faux intelligence because he has a pretty badge --”


“Are you lost, citizen? The way out is behind that door over there.” Dave’s voice was metallic cold.


The old man gave him an angry look, picked his nose and wiped his finger on the shiny clean desk before heading out.


***


Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.


30 more minutes. Then it was over. Just 30 more minutes.


Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.


Tick-f**k. Tick-f**k. Did this clock have to be so loud?


Tick-TOCK.


Sounded like someone was cutting a bone with a dull knife.


Ticki-TOCK. Tickity-Tock.


With a mechanised movement, Dave’s hand seized the wall clock and snapped it down.


Tick-THUMP-SLAM.


Pieces of shattered plastic glass tingled below. Then there was silence. God bless the silence.


***


Tap-tap-tap.


Dave’s fingers drummed nervously on the car wheel. Evening. Home sweet home? Traffic jam.


Tap-tap-tap.


5. 4. Yellow light. 3. 2. 1.


Green.


The caterpillar of cars sprang into motion. Dave’s heavy boot pushed down on the gas pedal. Please make it. Please make it for the green light. You can do it. Come on. You can do it!


Faster. F**k, move faster you morons.


10 seconds. 4 cars. He was going to make it. He was going to make it. 3 cars. He was going to make it!


Yellow light.


Last car! And then red light. He didn’t make it. Another 2 minutes of waiting. He switched on the radio.


Hey, I just met you. And this is crazy. But here’s my number--


SLAM. Silence. God bless the silence.


***


It was Saturday morning. Sunlight faintly penetrated the thick curtains in Dave’s bedroom, save for one bright spot where they weren’t closed very well.


The bright spot was slowly crawling through the room. First on the cupboard, then it moved past it and onto the bedside table, and made its way towards the sleeping man’s face.


Dave woke up and squinted against the sun. The spot had almost reached him. He thought for a little and moved on the opposite side of the bed. Then he decided his effort was futile and tossed the bedsheets away.


***


Breakfast time. Open the cupboard. Out of bread.


Open the fridge. Out of milk. Out of eggs. Out of bacon. Out of everything.


Shopping time.


***


“That is £7.90, sir”, said the plump shopkeeper indifferently without looking at the client.


The man in the front was hesitating.


“Would you like to pay cash or with a credit card?”


“How about I pay with this?”, he grunted with a hoarse voice. The shopkeeper looked up. The man was holding a switchblade.


The woman froze. He could read the dire surprise and panic in her eyes. There was no one else in the shop. It was early Saturday morning. No one was around. No one could help her.


“It is early Saturday morning. No one is around. No one could help you. But if you scream, I swear I’ll mangle your larynx. Do it quietly. Don’t risk your life for eight quid.”


Apparently she was thinking the same. She handed him the bag with the purchases. He said thank you and snatched it. Then headed out.


In the middle of his way out, the shop door opened and Dave walked in. Both he and the woman and the robber froze still for a few seconds. It didn’t take too long for Dave to realise what was going on. His face went still.


“Is everything all right?” He asked with his calm voice " the one he had trained during all those years of porter duty.


The woman was white as a sheet. She attempted to speak, but lost her words. The sound of a bag dropping on the floor, however, startled her enough to shout “look out”.


The stranger had put his bag down and was holding his switchblade open against Dave. “You haven’t seen me, you hear that?”


“No. I have.” Dave shook his head. He had indeed recognised him as the old bum from yesterday. The stranger realised he was recognised and quickly made a decision.


Get rid of the witnesses.


But Dave’s decision was quicker.


BANG.


It came with a loud gunshot, which instantly split the old man’s head open. Pale red jelly-like substance painted the shop shelves around.


Pieces of shattered skull tingled below. Then there was silence. God bless the silence.


***


Hall. Lecture hall. People sitting in the circle. Talking one by one.


Dave opened the door.


“Hello, Dave!”, chirped the pudgy old psychologist with her irritating, hoarse voice and half-incomprehensible accent. “You’re late, but you can come in. Would you please tell us how do you deal with anger"”


“Yes.”


BANG.

© 2012 Sodanlaulu


Author's Note

Sodanlaulu
It's more or less of a draft version, so please let me know which parts do you think are weak/annoying.

Character's personality is left obscure. ON PURPOSE. I want his thoughts and actions to speak about him.

My Review

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Featured Review

I like this. I like it a lot, actually. A read though would do serious good in tightening it up, there are little places where the punctuation is weird or what have you, but I love the (cuss words in parenthesis) and what not. I think that's an AWESOME gimmick. It's not totally clear that Dave is carrying a gun, though. The end of the story seems a bit abrupt to just end it with Dave shooting someone. I would rethink it, but the premise is funny and I really like it.

Although I have to say, I love the way you're able to write in detail about the little things in the world around him as they're irritating him. The writing style captures that so well and I want more of that towards the end. The clock, the silence, all that jazz. Do another draft, tighten it up and tell me when you do!

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

I like this. I like it a lot, actually. A read though would do serious good in tightening it up, there are little places where the punctuation is weird or what have you, but I love the (cuss words in parenthesis) and what not. I think that's an AWESOME gimmick. It's not totally clear that Dave is carrying a gun, though. The end of the story seems a bit abrupt to just end it with Dave shooting someone. I would rethink it, but the premise is funny and I really like it.

Although I have to say, I love the way you're able to write in detail about the little things in the world around him as they're irritating him. The writing style captures that so well and I want more of that towards the end. The clock, the silence, all that jazz. Do another draft, tighten it up and tell me when you do!

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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2 Reviews
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Added on June 16, 2012
Last Updated on June 22, 2012
Tags: flash fiction, anger, monologue, open end, death, violence, male character, inner conflict, contemporary

Author

Sodanlaulu
Sodanlaulu

Finland



About
Loves character-driven writing (with a touch of disturbing images), psychology/sociology, scientific philosophy, nature poems and lyrics. more..

Writing
The Product The Product

A Story by Sodanlaulu