Creative Writers Club

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<h1>Tables Turned (a very short story)</h1>
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&lt;WRAP western> By Mark Baker (11 April 2018) &lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>&lt;WRAP size-full wp-image-206 right ><a href="/lib/exe/detail.php?id=cwc%3Atables-turned-a-very-short-story&media=cwc:fnimages-1.jpg" class="media" title="cwc:fnimages-1.jpg"><img src="/lib/exe/fetch.php?w=275&h=183&tok=4ffcb7&media=cwc:fnimages-1.jpg" class="media" title="fnimages-1.jpg" alt="fnimages-1.jpg" width="275" height="183" /></a>&lt;/WRAP>
She spat in his drink and then returned to the fake, white-marble topped, table with a clean cocktail glass, smiling sweetly as her new Manager had told them all to do, regardless of the vile customers who he welcomed with open arms and greedy eyes.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>The boisterous group noticeably ignored her. She knew from this type of group there wouldn’t be the tip, which was much needed.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>She smiled, with real contentment, as her Manager sipped his ‘Re-made Cocktail’. He reigned supreme in his self importance, like a Bitch in Heat.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP >oOo&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>“And what if I wasn’t here? Do you think anyone else would come and open this tacky bar at 6am in the morning?” she spat back, as she finished looking at the letter formally dismissing her.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>The bar manager screamed back, “I don’t care! You’re sacked. You spat in my drink! You’re a bitch!” He was red faced, sputtering. His humiliation compounded by fresh memory of the wild laughter of his ‘friends’ gathered in ‘his’ bar.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>“And how do you know it was me, eh? It could have been anyone of us behind the bar.” she countered.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>He looked shocked. “They all would have done that?”.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>She press the knife of suspicion further, “You were lucky it was only spit!”&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP >oOo&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>As the leaves fell, golden and brown, gathering in the wind driven drifts at her feet, she pulled her old coat round her shivering body, and with a chill, gloveless, hand turned another page of the “Job Offered”. “So few this week,” she muttered to the leaves, gathered like staving cats round the scuffed, worn flat-heeled shoes.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>But there was one. And it was a doozy.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>‘Wanted Urgently – Manager with good experience of bar work; dealing with group customers; and able to open at 6am each morning. For details, ring….’&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>She recognised the number. It was her old bar.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>She quickly turned to the funerals listings, just in case her wishes had come true. And joy lifted her heart. Her Manager’s name was there, on the list of cremations.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>‘I regret to inform you…’. She didn’t need to read any more, and placed the rejection letter carefully with the others.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>“Who needs a damn Bar job,” she muttered angrily, then almost immediately tears welled in her red, puffy, eyes. She turned to the grimy window, cracked and ice covered, and looking at the chill World, said, softly, “I do.”&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>Only the wind whispered forlornly in reply.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>Picking up the next envelope, with almost distant disregard, she carefully opened it, like her late Mother had taught her to do, and saw at the top of page;&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>“State Lottery – Confirmation of Winner.”&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP >oOo&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>“Not in my lifetime would I have expected to achieve so much”, she started, staring at the assembled audience of smiling, diamond-bedecked, perfumed and expensively couture-dressed women.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>She smiled, as she recognised some of the faces from her past. All giving her the attention that they had deliberately withheld when she was just a cocktail waitress. A no-body.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>Now they paid to her to give a speech. And she made sure they paid. The more expensive the ticket, the more exclusive, and the more they wanted to be there. To be noticed. To have attention. A desperate human need. “It’s a bitch, but it’s there.” she said to herself.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>Since she was “Business Woman of the Year”, she command a big fee to gain attention.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>And her success was based purely on buying every business that had sent her rejection letters, sacking all the middle management and promoting the people who mattered. The people who dealt with customers every day.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>“If only…. “ and that was the start of feelings of regret. Something she had decided was not going to be her motto. It was too easy to dwell in that World of Second Guessing.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>No! She was going to be clear, direct, and simply state the facts. She’d be the bitch they said she was.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>Yes, she was wealthy now. And, No, she was not going to support some damn family, who had ditched her when she was a ‘just a waitress’.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>They would have to wait for the Reading of her Last Will & Testament – and they were going to have to wait a damn long time!&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP >oOo&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>Despite everything, the pressure to be charitable was too great. She couldn’t be that bitter and that resentful. She had to live with herself, after all.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>So, from her Colonial-style terrace, chilled Champagne nearby, she wrote nice letters to all of her relatives, who had harped on about ‘family values’, enclosing a single cheque of $1000 with each lavender-scented envelope.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>That’s all they would get, she smiled contently with her generosity. Her conscience massaged.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western>She was rich now. She could spit in anyone’s drink, and they wouldn’t complain. She knew that for absolute fact. Money does that. It’s a Bitch.&lt;/WRAP>
&lt;WRAP western> The above short short was based on prompts given at the Writers Group in the same order; &lt;/WRAP>

<ol>
<li class="level1"> &lt;WRAP western> She spat in his drink… &lt;/WRAP></li>
</ol>
<ol>
<li class="level1"> &lt;WRAP western> What if I wasn’t here… &lt;/WRAP></li>
</ol>
<ol>
<li class="level1"> &lt;WRAP western> As the leaves fell… &lt;/WRAP></li>
</ol>
<ol>
<li class="level1"> &lt;WRAP western> I regret to inform you… &lt;/WRAP></li>
</ol>
<ol>
<li class="level1"> &lt;WRAP western> Not in my lifetime… &lt;/WRAP></li>
</ol>
<ol>
<li class="level1"> &lt;WRAP western> If only…. &lt;/WRAP></li>
</ol>
<ol>
<li class="level1"> &lt;WRAP western> Despite everything…. &lt;/WRAP></li>
</ol>
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Authored by: writeradmin; Last updated: 2018-05-29T14:08:14(UTC)

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