Flash Fiction Thursday–Retaliation

Well, another Thursday, another try at dubious storytelling. I had to go to a different source for my flash fiction prompt this week:

http://nancystohlman.com/2013/02/19/30-flash-fiction-prompts/

I couldn’t decide on one prompt, so I chose several and mashed them together in one story:

  • 12: Write a story that begins with, and consists mostly of, dialogue.
  • 13: Write a story that deals with or includes some aspect of a taboo.
  • 25: Write a story that takes place over breakfast.
  • 26: Write a story that includes a humiliation, real or invented.

This piece of fiction may or may not derive from real conversations with friends.

Enjoy.

Retaliation

“What the hell happened last night? My head feels like a woodpecker is going to town on my brain,” Justin said.

“I don’t know much of anything either. I just woke up and decided to get some coffee—everything’s blurry at this point,” Ryan answered. He gestured towards the chair across from him, “Take a seat. We’ll figure this thing out eventually.”

“Mind if I have some coffee first?”

“Go right ahead.”

Justin rummaged through the refrigerator. “Do we have any creamer—or did you take the last of it?”

“I’m a man, I don’t use creamer.”

Justin mumbled something under his breath that Ryan couldn’t hear. He joined Ryan at the table, grudgingly pouring mounds of sugar in his morning cup of joe to make it bearable.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Justin asked.

Ryan rubbed his face with both palms. “I can think straight. Last thing I remember was you at the ACE ordering drinks for a group of cougars out for their bachelorette party. Didn’t you take the one in the cowboy hat home? I coulda swore Kevin drove us all home together.”

“We went to the ACE last night?—what a shit hole. Last thing I remember was dancing at the Rock Rest with some chick on the stripper pole.”

Ryan laughed. “Real classy. Only the big girls dance on that pole, so I guess you can have that one.”

“Big girls need love too,” Justin replied. “Don’t act like you didn’t try to take home that troll from the Rock Rest.”

“Huh?”

“Yep. I remember Loretta shooting you down.”

“Loretta?” Ryan asked with legitimate surprise. He rubbed his head again. “Jesus Christ—please tell me you’re lying.”

“Nope. Ms. Last Call, Slump Buster, Swamp Donkey, Troll Face, Beer Goggles, herself shot your ass down. How does that feel my friend?”

“I think I need to throw up.” Ryan puffed out his cheeks, simulating the act. “Again,” he added. He took another sip of his coffee. “Did I take anyone home last night? I woke up this morning with a hair-tie on my pillow.” Ryan simulated whipping his non-existent hair back. “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t mine.”

“Bro, I can’t even remember going to the ACE. How the hell am I supposed to remember what species you brought home to smash on?” Justin asked.

Ryan stuck his middle finger up towards his roommate and got up to pour a bowl of cereal. When he went to retrieve the milk, he noticed it had red and brown chunks in it.

“What the hell is this?” Ryan asked while holding the bottle at arm’s length towards Justin.

Justin shrugged. “I don’t know. Why do you think I didn’t pour it in my coffee?”

Ryan shot another suspicious glance at the milk and then put it back in the refrigerator. He stared down at his already poured bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats. “Guess I’m gonna have to eat some poor man’s cereal this morning.”

Ryan filled the bowl with water in the sink.

“Where’s Kevin anyway?” Justin asked, referring to their third roommate. “If anyone knows what the hell happened last night, it’s him. Wait a minute…he was the DD, right? Or am I just losing my mind.”

“Yes and yes. That’s how I remember it, anyway.”

As if on cue, Kevin walked through the front door of the three bedroom condo and set his keys on the end table by the door. He strolled into the kitchen with a dozen doughnuts in one hand and a gallon of milk in the other.

“The man of the hour,” Ryan started. “What the hell happened last night–And what’s the deal with the milk?”

“Long story,” Kevin replied.

“It’s Sunday morning…we don’t have shit to do. So go ahead and start it up,” Justin said.

“Who the hell did I bring home last night? Please tell me it wasn’t Loretta.”

“No, it wasn’t Loretta,” Kevin started. “You took home Ashley from the middle aged bachelorette party.”

“But I thought–” Ryan started.

Kevin cut him off. “Justin brought her home, really. But when he asked me to stop to get some condoms, she decided you were the better fit for the night.”

“So I raw-dogged a random!?” Ryan asked. “And you gotta start calling them Scuba Steve’s in front of women, Justin. At least try to hide it.”

Justin smiled. “Can’t go diving without Scuba Steve,” he mused.

Kevin took control again, “To answer your question, no you didn’t raw-dog anyone. You dry heaved in your room until she finally left and went over to my room.”

“So you hit?”

“Let’s just say I dropped her off this morning.”

Ryan groaned and tilted his head back in his chair. “So what’s the deal with the milk?”

“I’m getting to that. Justin got upset that you stole Ashley from him, so he walked into your room, said ‘I’m sorry’, and then pissed in your closet. You retaliated by picking Max’s ‘droppings’ in the back yard and throwing it in his bed.”

Ryan rubbed his head and groaned some more.

“Annnnnd things escalated from there. Let’s just say we should probably throw out that milk ASAP.”

“Well, Justin, I’d like to formally apologize for throwing dog shit in your bed,” Ryan said. He paused considering it. “And taking your chick, I suppose.”

Justin smiled and shook his head. “And I’d like to apologize for pissing in your closet, and whatever I did to that milk.” He turned to Kevin, “I don’t even wanna know.”

Kevin raised his hands in surrender while shaking his head.

“Sorry I might have C blocked you too…I guess. Do you remember dry heaving?” Justin asked.

“I don’t remember shit.”

The two hung over twenty three year old males looked to Kevin. From the looks of their expecting faces, Kevin detected the two were seeking an apology, as well.

“Don’t look at me. I drove your drunk asses home. I’m not gonna apologize for getting some.”

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