Every now and again I get a chance to play along with the Creative Copy Challenge Shane Arthur puts on every Monday and Thursday. I managed to squeak one in yesterday and, as usual, it was very challenging and lots of fun. This week’s words are in bold:
It was the summer that did it everytime.
Dale gazed stupidly at the bloody mary in his hand, looking more like a bloodbath than a drink. Disillusioned and depressed, he considered for a moment, dropping the glass and letting its shattered remains grant the real peace that the alcohol never would.
Sasha fixed her steely gaze on him and spat, “Again? You’re a miserable waste of space, you know that?”
She huffed, settling back into her chair—the Debutante of Dram’s Corner–with all the sanctimonious poise of a competent bully.
Dale didn’t bother to look at her, having seen her attempt at badass posturing enough times to picture it quite clearly on the concrete between his feet.
“So you’re just going to sit here, then? Do nothing?” she said.
“That’s the plan.”
“I told her. I told her you were worthless and a waste of her time. That’s what she gets for not listening to me. Serves her right.” Sasha sniggered and smiled viciously.
“You’re not going to stay here, you know,” she said.
As if Dale had ever doubted her niggardly sororal affections.
“So where are you going?”
He shrugged, and thought how the gesture was a fitting dénouement for every relationship he got into and out of; for his whole life, really.
The radio from inside was playing Aerosmith. “Chase you all the way to the stairway, honey. Kiss your sassafras.” Dale whispered along with the refrain.
“You’re pathetic,” she said, ignoring him.
“When are you leaving?”
Dale set his glass down on the concrete patio and without taking his eyes off of it, raised his foot and stomped down hard, shattering it.