Prompt was ‘Are you sure about that?’ 300 words.
I did it, my way.
“I am sure it is.”
“Believe me sweetheart, if I say it isn’t possible; it isn’t.”
He was getting on my nerves, big time. We were supposed to be collaborating on a script for a Television series. The deadline was looming and every contribution I made he shot down in his superior, sneering, way that made him unpopular amongst the rest of the group.
I gritted my teeth, spoke from between them.
“It stays in. I insist.”
His laugh rumbled inside his huge belly, like some ancient clanging boiler, then exploded from his wide, ugly mouth. The exertion from this scornful act of ridicule, caused sweat to drip from his forehead. As he leant forward to grope in his trouser pocket for a handkerchief to wipe his face, a few drops of sweat landed on my cheek.
A whole year of anger therapy rapidly unravelled in my head.
I sprung to my feet.
My full five foot, one inch frame, brought me level with his shiny round head, despite him being seated.
“Sweetheart, we all know, if it were possible you wouldn’t be in this group with us ‘Petty’s’. We are writing ‘True Crimes’ not fairy stories. The Judge and jury decided it wasn’t physically possible for someone of your petite size to break the neck of that heavyweight boxer. All the evidence showed how ridiculous the suggestion was.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I lunged at him.
His bulky frame was slow to move.
I had my arm around his neck, his eyes were bulging, his tongue lolled from between his swollen lips, I placed my lips near to his ear while he could still hear me.
“I had the best solicitor.”
The crack of bones was satisfying.
I finished the script; my way.