April Flash #13
based on prompts by:
Amygdala: transcendental irritation; anonymous note;
Haredawg: Evil come early South Georgia; It was leaking from the first; It dont make no nevermind;
It was an anonymous note that triggered it, this transcendental irritation a piece of paper shoved through the crack under the door that caused my coffee cup to slip past my lip and dribble cream down the front of my shirt. I cursed early that morning, my vow of polite conversation slipping its bounds barely after I had slipped from between the sheets and into conscious awakening. The wanker. There was a water leak in my bathroom every time I ran the shower. It was much more noticeable now that I was cleaning several times a day, and it slipped through the cracks in that old wooden floor, tiles caked over with layers of enamel that did nothing to stop the slop of water from one floor to the next. I figured it must be like a ray of god seeping through the ceiling down there, a waterfall on the bathroom wall that was unexpected and irritating. It was leaking from the first moment I spun that ancient dial, creating a mix between hot and cold perfect for long, luxurious soaking not so much when it was mixing in with the undoubtedly leaden paint downstairs. I started my morning ritual over again, having become distracted by that slip of paper that explained in no uncertain terms that I was forbidden to turn on my shower, lest the wrath of god come down upon my head. Yeah. Whatever. I enticingly turned the knob of my shower, inviting the water out full force before disrobing and stepping into the steamy awakening. I lingered there longer than normal, make sure that the walls were good and wet and a healthy coating of steam blanketed my mirror. I took my time applying makeup, making sure my hair was just right, flushing the toilet a few times, just in case that had sprung a leak as well. And as I headed out the door to make the trek down the stairs for my early morning jog (which would require another shower upon returning home, of course, being all sweaty and such and damp with morning dew) I heard, above the sounds of bluegrass music at that god-awful hour, that voice with its smooth southern drawl like whiskey on molasses coming up the hallway to greet me. it dont make no nevermind, pretty lady he said, leaning against the doorframe with a corncob pipe dangling precariously from his widening, whiskered lips. youll get yours. I just smiled and waved my hand in greeting.
I wasnt gone that long, really. It seemed the fire and brimstone I had been imagining during my whole 7 mile jog had come true, with the crowd of firetrucks and police sirens blocking the entrance to my block. I learned a lesson on evil that day and of karmic tricks and pranks of nature. Had I been home, Id be no longer here. As it was, my tiny apartment was swept away in a freak accident a tornado touching down in one spot, right above where my head had been, cascading water down the old brick building like a flood of retribution. The old man was sitting like a demi-god on the porch swing, chewing his pipe and smiling as he noticed my arrival. Evil come early, South Georgia I had only want for good.
new prompts: written on the body; permanent ink; a marked tempo