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Rosie and Sam Flash Fiction

This flash fiction was written from word prompts provided by my friend Fraidy Cat:

It was reasonable for Rosie to ask Sam to help with the dishes but our Sammy boy didn't see it that way so he decided to be a wiseguy and smack her around a little. It must have been the Miller High Life in him doing the talking. The beer shut up really quick like when she conked him in the head with the flat iron from the hearth. Goodnight Sam!

Sammy was cowering in the corner after he came to with a gash in his head, blood running everywhere and Rosie sitting in a chair staring at him with a .12 gage shotgun aimed his general direction. Sammy knew he was going to have to start talking fast and make up with Rosie for busting her lip. He knew he had been drinking too much beer but he didn't mean to rough her up again, but a man needed his time off and it was Rosie's job to do the dishes not his.

Rosie clicked off the safety and Sam crapped his pants, maybe he should have been more of a gentleman about helping out around the house.

As Sam sat in his own stinking poop he realized that his ideas about marriage were perhaps antiquated and that he needed to rethink his position. He wasn't really in the position to negotiate right this minute but he could indicate a willingness to take orders but then Rosie pulled the trigger and it was all over for Sammy Boy.

Rosie considered the blood and brains that were all over the den but she didn't have time to be melancholy about the fact she had wasted her husband, in fact, she needed to start thinking about how to get the hell out of there before the cops arrived. Rosie didn't regret killing the low life but she sure as hell didn't want to go to jail for doing so.

Rosie had to smother her revulsion for being covered in Sammy's bodily fluids, grab the car keys, her purse and ditch the cell phone before she climbed into their old Volvo and headed down the road. Rosie didn't know where she was going but she thought it would be prudent to get cleaned up as soon as possible.

Rosie's first destination was the laundrymat. It was deserted at this time of the night. She went into the restroom, took off the clothes she had been wearing and threw on a house dress. She quickly put her clothes in the washer and then went back to the ladies room to get the blood off of her person. Rosie had to make plans about where to go but she needed clean clothes to make a full fledged escape.


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Jul. 10th, 2010 06:56 pm (UTC)
Somehow I almost feel sorry for Sammy. But not really. I guess he smacked Rosie around once too often.
Jul. 10th, 2010 07:37 pm (UTC)
Rosie, Sammy, Flash Fiction
I have found in my flash fiction that my characters tend to not get mad, they get even. I never knew I could be so violent. It must be something I have repressed a long time. Rosie really had been slapped upside the head one time too many. She had reached her breaking point.
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )


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