3 things to inspire 1 story written in 20 minutes. #story320
words/phrase provided by @dhivyannn
“Suck it up!”
So i put my mouth to the straw and tried pulling that milkshake up towards my mouth. It wouldn’t budge. I kept at it until my lips were sore and the top of the straw had collapsed so much so that each suck only closed the pipe.
Innuendo or no, I couldn’t get the milkshake up the straw.
So as any reasonable man would do, I grabbed the cup in my hand and threw it out of the diner window. The power I felt in that moment of taking control of vanishing the things that were giving me trouble in my life (A.K.A. the strawberry milkshake) were instantly dashed when a trucker appeared at the window, head wet and dripping with pink slush.
“Did you do that?” He asked me calmly, just then my girlfriend returned from the restroom and sat down, I nodded my head in her direction.
“Oh my god! what happened?” She was surprised but not as surprised as she would be seconds later, when the trucker began climbing into the diner through the window still lined with jagged glass, his fingers, hands, wrists and forearms beginning to ooze red (which blended well with the pink of the shake now running down his shoulders, chest and arms).
“You did this bitch?” The trucker said to my girlfriend.
“Wait a minute!” I said. “Don’t speak to her that way!”
See chivalry isn’t dead.
“I didn’t do anything, I’m sorry, who did this? What happened?” said my girlfriend.
The trucker was now on the table, he seemed tired, out of breath. He was losing quite a bit of blood.
In a much meeker voice than earlier he said, “I’m gonna get you.” He was looking at me.
“Why would she say she was sorry if she had nothing to hide? That doesn’t sound like an innocent person to me.”
The trucker looked back at my girlfriend, he put his bloody forearm in my mashed potatoes and dragged himself further onto the table.
My girlfriend was glaring at me.
The waitress came by and asked if we needed anything else. No! I thought, just the check please, also we didn’t order the angry, bloody trucker.
“We’ll take the check.” I said.
My girlfriend acknowledged the situation to the waitress. “Can we help you clean up this mess?” The waitress looked at her as if she’d just landed from Jupiter.
“Oh hogwash! That’s my job.” The waitress said, pulling my plate from under the arm of the trucker, now breathing in long intervals.
“Are you sure? That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Hey, life’s tough and if it were fair we’d all be able to drink our milkshakes without breaking our lips or straws, windows wouldn’t break and truckers wouldn’t bleed to death all over our tables. Honey, this happens every week.”
Well god damn!