Insensitive/Offensive Language – The Elephant's Trunk

Alright, alright, alright!
It’s time once again for a Six Sentence Story,
this time incorporating the word ‘remote’.
Here’s mine, with a few other prompts just for fun.

The reflection of my timeworn face in the bathroom mirror is harrowing, one I still can’t accept is me .… someone who was always strikingly attractive, impeccably dressed with my designer labels neatly tucked away and out of sight; these days I see only one person on a regular basis and he doesn’t give a shit what I look like as long as I have the money to pay him.

There’s that old twitch in my left eye, an unwelcome reminder that a killer headache and nausea are about to overtake me if I don’t eat some Skittles, a much more socially acceptable term than that hushed-up, dirty little name that makes all the so-called ‘well-adjusted’ people cringe as though in the presence of a leper; fucking hypocrites who gleefully suck up their gummies and hemp oil and legalized medical marijuana while sipping on their “superb organic Pouilly-Fiussé”.

My hands are shaking in equal amounts of excitement and desperation as I check out what my guy has delivered today – reds, blues and yellows – a difficult choice, to be sure, but the numerous voices in my head have made a unanimous decision: mellow yellow to match my jaundiced skintone and disposition; yes, I’ve read the headlines and the fine print warnings – I’m not an idiot, you know, and that makes me laugh out loud!

Let’s see what’s in the magician’s box to fix this sallow complexion …. spackle-like primer to fill in the yawning crevices around my mouth, foundation with a bit of a dewy finish (or so the advertisements promise), creamy rosy blush for my cheeks, glossy brush-on plumper for luscious lips, pencil to fill in my threadbare brows, glittery highlighter to lessen the deep-set appearance of my eyes and layer upon layer of mascara on my straggly lashes.

Looking at my reflection once again, I see that I’m now back .… returned from the dead, if you will …. and I look sensational, provocative and sensual with just the right touch of promiscuousness, yet there are two burned-out, remote eyes blankly staring back at me.

I slip into my work clothes, ready for another night hitting the pavement, when I feel that familiar sensation and I’m faced with the recurring stalemate – whether I should just take all the pretty candy, lie down and pray I never wake up or put myself back on the meat market to earn enough money for another bag of Skittles; “Fuck it, I’m already dressed” I think as I pop a red and slam the door behind me.

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

FOWC with Fandango — Superb

FOWC with Fandango — Attractive

Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – Timeworn

FOWC with Fandango — Headline

FOWC with Fandango — Unanimous

Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – Labels

FOWC with Fandango — Thread

FOWC with Fandango — Stalemate

FOWC with Fandango — Harrowing

This is “The Pusher” by Steppenwolf

Trigger warning: offensive and insensitive language, racial slurs.

“Didn’t touch! Only looked!” wailed Eddie, the dishwasher at the Q.E.D. Lounge. The waitstaff came running into the kitchen upon hearing a tremendous crash. Shattered crystal covered the kitchen floor – the new shipment of assorted glasses for the lounge’s grand opening.

Eddie huddled in the corner wiping his runny nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, whimpering like a frightened boy. Due to that one decisive extra chromosome, Eddie was very much like a child – a 32 year old man with the mind of an eight year old. Just a little thing called Down Syndrome. Eddie’s brother Jay, the maitre d’, crouched down next to him while everyone stood in stunned silence.

“Eddie, accidents happen. It’s gonna be ok” Jay said calmly. “C’mon, bud. We’ll help you clean up.”

Without hesitation the crew grabbed brooms and dust pans – everyone except Lou, the belligerent bartender.

“Don’t look at me. I ain’t helping!” snarled Lou. “It was that goddamn retard’s fault. He shouldn’t even be around normal people, fucking mongoloid!”

Jay clenched his fists, eyes glaring at Lou.” Shut your filthy mouth, you miserable son of a bitch! Don’t ever talk about my brother like that!”

Martin Byrnes, manager of the Q.E.D., stormed into the kitchen. “What the hell’s going on?!” Slowly he looked around, taking in the whole scene. Martin asked everyone to leave except Eddie, Jay and Lou.

Martin spoke softly. “Eddie, it’s ok. I’m not mad. Can you tell me what happened?”

Eddie glanced over at Lou, then shook his head ‘no’.

“Mr. Byrnes is real good to us, Eddie. He deserves the truth” Jay added encouragingly.

Eddie sniffled and rubbed is swollen eyes. “I saw all the boxes and I was curious, Jay, but I didn’t touch them, cross my heart and hope to die. Then Lou, he came rushing in the back door and pushed me into the boxes and they fell.”

“You lying freak!” yelled Lou. “I was out back chasing that bum who’s always looking for a handout. Eddie’s mangy mutt was there and he tore a hole in my pants cuff!”

“Yeah, after you kicked him, I’m sure” declared Jay.

“Ok, Lou. What happened when you came back into the kitchen?” asked Martin. “Were you so ticked off at the dog that maybe you bumped into Eddie?”

“Look, Mr. B. I’m telling you I didn’t do nothing” sneered Lou. “Who you gonna believe – this idiot or me?”

“Alright! That’s enough! What’s done is done.” Martin sighed. “Jay, you and Eddie finish cleaning up in here. Lou, go down to the basement and bring up whatever glasses you can find. We’re opening tonight as planned.”

Disgruntled, Lou headed for the basement. He remembered a prior shipment of glasses that Martin didn’t particularly like. Rather than return them, they were put in storage. And there they were, two towers of boxes at least four feet fall.

“Why am I stuck doing this shit job? Where’s that lazy spic busboy?” Lou grumbled. He walked to the delivery entrance and shouted “Hey, Manuel! Get in here!” Then he gave a shrill whistle.

Manuel didn’t answer Lou’s command but Eddie’s dog Arlo did. He was still smarting from the swift kick in the ribs from Lou’s pointy patent leather shoe. Arlo growled and inched closer, baring his sharp canines.

Lou backed up as fast as he could but he wasn’t fast enough. Arlo sank his teeth into the bartender’s calf and wouldn’t let go. He meant business and was out for revenge – for himself and for Eddie.

Spinning around like a whirling dervish, Lou smashed into the stacks of boxes. He fell to the floor as splintered wood and jagged glass rained down on him. As a final coup de grâce, Arlo lifted his hind leg, pissed on Lou’s patent leather shoes and trotted out the door.

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Tag: Insensitive/Offensive Language

Just An Average Junkie

THE GRAND OPENING

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