Capital Investments…reduced…8%. Doug couldn’t go through the presentation again. He was feeling his way through the talking points now. Radio turned off, whit knuckling his way down the West Seattle Bridge and feeling his way through the most important presentation of his life.
I’m screwed. 8% isn’t enough. Not for Mr. Gromitz.
The line of cars on the bridge trying to exit onto I5 north was always long and today was even longer. Just as Doug reached the the maw of the onramp he saw a car trying to line jump in his rear view mirror. Effing line jumper. Wait your turn a-hole. Just like everyone else.
Doug pumped the brakes to stay close to the car in front of him. This dance continued for a few steps as the line jumper cruised, looking for a weak spot. Pump. Pump. Trying to hold the chain taut. But this a-hole was persistent. He rolled up with his two seater, small dick, tinted window Benzo, and started honking at Doug! As if Doug were the a-hole for waiting in line like EVERYBODY ELSE! Doug screamed, in his head.
Doug pumped his gas trying to close the gap one last time before heading into the maw but a-hole Benzo guy rolled up and forced his way in, hitting the side of Doug’s Cindy Lauper era Honda, and pining his own car against the guard rail.
Oh this mother effer! MOTHER EFFER! Doug sprung from his car mid expletive. “You couldn’t wait in line like everybody else could you”, he admonished the man through dark glass. Doug continued, “think because you have a Mercedes Benz you can do whatever the ‘f’ you want? Huh? You stupid jerk face! Roll down your window and face me jerk man. Stupid line jumping jerk man!”. Doug continued to hurl ineffectual curses. He did not have a “potty mouth” as he would say, and therefore found it difficult to express the deep anger he often felt.
Seeing his reflection in the window helped Doug to see the folly in rejecting the mother of all expletives. His two middle fingers shot up into he air as ominously as the Fat Man and Little Boy fell down to earth, and riding torrents of miss-timed comebacks his very first F-bomb exploded on the a-hole in the red Benzo’s window.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck”, reverberated off the window. Doug’s protracted “Youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!” seemed to go on for years until the brick wall of Mr. Gromitz’s eyes crushed the hanging ‘U’ like a dummy without a seatbelt.
That’s when Doug said “Fuck” for the second time in his life. Followed by “me”.
Writer’s Digest Weekly Writing Challenge.
Daydreaming on your way to work, you get into a car accident. Frustrated because you will be late for an important meeting, you curse and yell as you get out of the car. When you go to confront the other drive, you find out it is your boss. Write this scene.
Post your response (500 words or fewer)