Eight people sit in a boardroom, waiting for their supervisor to arrive. When he does, he pulls out a gun, shoots one of the employees, and then himself.

“It’s not like Dave to be late,” Kevin remarked, checking his watch.

Kellie sighed and recrossed her legs. She looked at the seven other people sitting around the table. Each dressed impeccably in their best suits, silk ties reflecting light from the overhead florescent light. She was the lone female among them. Masterson, Inc was widely known for its male-dominated society, which was a huge draw for her to work there—prove herself as equal among the boys. She noticed Kevin eying her blouse and stared at him until he noticed and looked away sheepishly.

“I’m giving him another five minutes, then I’m outta here,” Mike said. “I have an important client meeting this afternoon. I should prepare.”

Everyone nodded their agreement, while knowing full well that it was an empty threat. If Dave Masterson told you to be there, you were there. Even if he made you wait all day.

The door opened and Dave Masterson walked in. Kellie did a double-take at Dave’s clothing choice of jeans and a Hawaiian short sleeve shirt. He looked more like he was going on vacation than to a meeting with his divisional presidents.

“Good morning, everyone,” Dave greeted. Instead of taking his seat at the head of the table he stood behind the chair, leaning his forearms against the chair back. His hair was disheveled, his face stubbly. He smiled at all of them, but though his face was in a grin his eyes were cold and dark. “Sorry about being late, but I was up all night with some very disturbing news.”

No one spoke.

“Would you like to know what that disturbing news is?” Dave straightened up and looked them each in the eye. “Now, I don’t know who it is, but someone in this room has been acting as a mole. They took information to Stevenson & Sons, and now I’m basically destroyed. I don’t suppose anyone wants to claim their victory?”

Frightened looks shot throughout the room. The tension in the air was palpable.

“How did you find out about all of this?” Kevin asked.

“Does it matter?” Dave replied coolly. “I have sources. Sources say I’m fucked. So who did it?”

Again, no one spoke.

Dave reached behind him and retrieved a small handgun from the waistband of his pants. “Let me put it this way. No one is leaving this room until the mole has been revealed. If you won’t come forward, then I’m just going to have to pick someone at random.” He pointed the gun at Kevin. “Maybe it’s you.” The gun moved over to the man on Kellie’s left, Stuart. “Or is it you?”

Stuart gulped. “I think it’s Kellie!” he blurted.

“Why?” Dave demanded.

“She’s been acting suspicious!” Stuart cried.

Kellie rolled her eyes. “Dave, I would never–”

“She had a meeting last week,” Kevin offered. “I asked her about it, and she told me it was hush hush.”

“Yeah, cause I didn’t want you trying to steal another of my clients,” Kellie shot back. “You’re the one who always has his nose in everyone’s business.”

“She has a point,” another man agreed. “Kevin is pretty nosy!”

It didn’t take long for the room to descend into chaos. Half the people sided with Kevin, the other with Kellie. Dave listened to the shouts and pleas quietly, alternating between pointing the handgun at Kevin and then at Kellie, depending on which side was shouting the loudest. Finally, he had had enough. “QUIET!” he bellowed. “So, Kevin and Kellie. Everyone seems to think that one of you is the mole.”

Kellie shot a murderous glance at Kevin, but he was watching Dave. Sweat ran down his forehead and he swallowed. “Dave,” he began, “If I may. I followed Kellie one night and saw her meet with Christian Stevenson at a bar. They seemed pretty intimate. I followed them to a hotel afterward.”

“You’re lying!” Kellie yelled. She bolted out of her chair and climbed on top of the table, trying to get to Kevin. She was almost at him when the gun went off. Kellie slumped down on top of the table, blood pooling out underneath her from the wound in her chest.

The room went silent as everyone stared at the body on the table. As one, seven pairs of eyes refocused on Dave to see what would happen next. Without another word, he raised the handgun to his head and pulled the trigger. Blood spattered the wall behind him as his body slumped to the ground. No one got up from the table, too stunned by the last ten minutes to move.

After a minute, Kevin cleared his throat. “So who’s the mole?”

Today Mr. W and I went to Menards so he could continue his quest with being obsessed about the lighting in our apartment.  We bought a bunch of special CFL “daylight” bulbs.  To me they are just harsh and cold, but to him they are akin to Christmas mornings as a child when you know you’ve scored an awesome present.  Or something like that.

Anyway, we are in the checkout line and notice that they have 64oz bottles of Chi-Chi’s salsa on sale for $1.98.  He says we should grab one.  They have medium and mild, so I grab a medium one because I am not a pansy.  Mr. W suggests we also get a mild [pansy].  “Why not?” he says.  “They’re good ’til December.”

We reach the cash register, and I look at the bottle.  “They’re good ’til December, 2012.” I inform him.

“Well in that case…”  He went over and grabbed another medium and mild.  We ended up buying 4 bottles, which is roughly 2 gallons, of salsa.  I don’t think we’ll ever need salsa again.  At least not for the next year and a half.

Okay, so anyway, the writing prompt for today.  I didn’t try very hard with this one, mostly because I’m pressed for time, but also because I wrote a little over 1,100 words on my new novel today. [If you followed me on Google+, you would know that the working title of this novel is "Document1" because that is what Microsoft wanted to save my file as, and I couldn't think of anything better.] My brain is kinda pooped.

Writing Prompt #8 – “Look what I found in the dumpster!”

“Look what I found in the dumpster!”

“What is it?”

“No idea, but it lights up and blinks when you say the word ‘serendipity’.  See?”

“Serendipity!”

“Isn’t it awesome?”

“How would you have ever figured out to say that word?”

“I don’t know.  Just did.”

“Serendipity, serendipity, serendipity!”

“Take it easy, you’re going to break it.  Whoa, it’s vibrating now.  Shit, I told you you were gonna break it!”

“I didn’t break it, shut up.”

“It’s getting really hot now.  Ow!”

“Don’t drop it!”

“It’s too hot…I can’t touch it anymore.”

“No way, man.  Now it’s glowing.  Where the hell did you get this thing?”

“Like I said, in the dumpster.”

“Let’s leave it.  Get the hell out of here.”

“I want to see what it’s going to—“

KA-BOOM!!!!

I would really love to make a longer story out of this one.  We shall see…

During his third night out of town, a traveling businessman discovers a voodoo doll in his hotel room.

Walt used his hotel key in the lock and wearily opened his door.  A small glow lit a corner of the room from the desk light that he had left on, knowing the high likelihood of him returning at such a late hour.  It was the only light in the room, as Walt always kept the drapes closed to both ensure his privacy and block out excess light.

It had been a long day at the sales convention, followed by an even longer evening at the hotel bar downstairs, and he was ready to sleep.  He stumbled into the room and dropped his briefcase on the chair by the door.  He kicked off his shoes and shuffled over to the neatly made bed.  He flung himself down upon it, but yelped in pain as he something pricked his chest.

He rolled over, trying to see what had pained him, and saw a small doll.  It was crudely put together, made out white fabric and about six inches tall.  A picture of his face had been pinned to the head of the doll.  A straight pin with a bright red head was sticking through the stomach of the doll, and it was on that pin that he had pricked himself.  His nose burned slightly as he breathed in the smell of the doll, a smell that was bitter and acrid.  He brushed the doll to the floor with plans to talk to a manager in the morning about their slipping standards in hiring housekeeping workers and passed out.

Sunlight assaulted the room through the open drapes, heating Walt’s face and glowing through his eyelids.  He groaned and rolled so that his back was to the sun.  The warm light began heating his back and he could feel the smallest trickle of sweat begin to form between his shoulder blades.  Groaning, he pushed himself up from the bed and went to the offending curtains.  He pulled them closed angrily and went to the bathroom to get a glass of water.  His head was killing him.  He felt as if he had slept for twenty minutes, though it was nearly noon.  He had missed this morning’s convention meeting.

“Screw it,” he mumbled.  He splashed water on his face and filled his glass with the cool water.  He gulped it greedily.  As he set the glass back down on the bathroom counter, he saw the doll.  It was sitting on his toothbrush.  There was a second red pin in it, this time it was sticking out of the head.

A woman wake up to find herself horrible disfigured after splurging on an expensive face cream that promised “amazing results.”

“Thanks for calling Extracto-Cream! The cream that promises amazing results! How may I serve you on this lovely day?” a female customer service rep greeted cheerfully.

“You can tell me how in the hell a cream that was supposed to eliminate wrinkles and make me look years younger gave me swollen lips and a lazy eye!!” a hysterical woman shrieked into the phone.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

“My lips are huge, and numb, and I have a lazy eye!”

“Well that certainly sounds like a problem, ma’am. I can understand why you would be upset. Let me open an investigation on this issue. I just need to ask you a few questions, is that all right?”

“Whatever.”

“What Extracto-Cream product are you currently using?”

“Extracto-Premium,” the caller replied.

“Ah, our top-of-the-line product. Great choice,” the rep informed. “How long have you been using the product?”

“I bought it yesterday. I’ve only used it the one time. This is going to go away, right? I have to work on Monday!”

The rep ignored the question, “According to the instructions for Extracto-Premium, the top shelf choice in skin care that will leave you amazed with it’s amazing results, you were to wash your face and apply a thin-layer for thirty minutes before removing. Did you follow these instructions?”

“Sure.”

“It only had contact with your skin for exactly thirty minutes?”

“Well,” the caller paused. “My son called… I probably had it on for about forty or forty-five.”

The rep was silent but, from the sounds, was typing furiously into her computer. “I see,” she said finally. “You are only to apply Extracto-Premium for thirty minutes.”

“Ten minutes makes that much of a difference?!” the woman shrieked. “There should be some kind of warning!”

“There is, ma’am,” the rep replied, “On the bottom of the container there is very fine print detailing usage and application.”

“So this is my fault?! I’d like to speak to your manager!”

“Of course, ma’am. Please hold.” The rep must have forgotten to press the hold button, for her voice continued over the line, “Reggie! Woman wants to talk to you!”

“She leave the cream on too long?” a tired-sounding man replied.

“Forty-five minutes.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Lazy eye and swollen lips.”

Reggie sighed. “I’m so sick of dealing with these.” He picked up the phone. “Ma’am? I’m Reggie, how can I be of service to you?”

“I want to sue this company! Your cream was supposed to get rid of wrinkles, not give me a lazy eye! That’s false advertising!”

“Well, ma’am,” Reggie began, “You have to admit that’s a pretty amazing result.”

A woman becomes frightened when she notices that her two-month old baby is growing what appear to be fangs.

Another sleepless night.  Maggie flipped on the wall switch in the kitchen and squinted as she was suddenly bathed in glaring white light.  Outside it was still dark, as the sun had yet to crest over the horizon.  She stumbled into the kitchen.

She was ravenous.  Ever since having Gabriel two months ago it was as if she couldn’t get enough to eat.  And yet she was losing weight.  She had lost all of her pregnancy weight and was still going.  There was some sliced turkey in the refrigerator and, instead of making a sandwich, she leaned against the counter and ate nearly the entire one-pound package in handfuls.  As she was eating she began to cry.

Her loud sobs traveled through the kitchen and down the hall to the nursery where Gabriel heard and began to join in.  Suddenly angry, she threw what little there was left of the turkey into the trashcan and stomped toward the baby’s room.

“Why are you crying?” she demanded, still crying herself.  “Like your life is so hard!”  She retrieved him from his crib and held him to her chest.  His cries broke off into sniffles almost instantaneously.  “Are you hungry?” she asked him.

He responded by rubbing his face against her shirt.  Yes, he was.

She walked slowly over to the rocking chair, on the lookout for any objects that might cause her to stumble and drop the baby, and sat down slowly in the chair taking care not to squeeze Gabriel too tightly.  He started to cry again, growing impatient with the delay in feeding.  Maggie lifted her shirt and began to breastfeed, taking a moment to revel in the silence the feeding brought.

When he had nearly finished, Maggie felt a sharp pain on her breast.  She pulled Gabriel away from her and looked at her breast, but it looked as it normally did.  Gabriel giggled.  As his mouth opened, Maggie stared down in horror at what appeared to be two small fangs growing down from the baby’s upper gum.  He hadn’t yet started teething and showed no signs of pain or distress now.  Yet, there they were.  Gabriel giggled again.  She laid a cloth over her shoulder and burped him as quickly as she dared.  Maggie placed him back in the crib where he yawned, again revealing the fangs.  They seemed even larger than before.

Maggie backed out of the nursery and ran to the phone in the kitchen.  Having already committed it to memory, she quickly dialed Dr. Michael’s home line.  He answered on the fourth ring sounding groggy.

“Good morning, Ms. Abrams.”

“Dr. Michael!  Something is wrong with Gabriel!” she cried into the phone.  Several sobs wracked her body and the doctor waited patiently until she had regained control of herself.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked finally.  There was a sigh in his voice.

“He has fangs!” she replied, frantic.

“A baby can start teething at any age,” the doctor informed.  “It’s perfectly normal for—“

“Fangs!” Maggie repeated.  “Fangs aren’t normal!”

“We’ve been through this, Ms. Abrams.” The doctor lowered his voice and spoke gently.  Soothingly.  “A lot of the anxiety that you are feeling can be attributed to the postpartum depression.  Did you sleep at all last night?”

“No.”

“Sleep is the best thing I could prescribe for you.  Gabriel is fine.  Is there someone you can call to come over and watch him for a few hours?  Let you rest a little?”

“My sister.  But—“

“Call your sister.  Get some rest.  Gabriel is fine.  We have an appointment next week, don’t we?”

Maggie wiped her nose with her hand.  “Tuesday.”

“Perfect.  So bring Gabriel in on Tuesday, and I will check out his teething progress.  It is really nothing to worry about.  Good-bye, Ms. Abrams.”

“Bye, Dr. Michael.”  She hung up the phone feeling drained and foolish, but still not entirely convinced she had fabricated what she saw back in the nursery.  “I need to sleep,” she mumbled.  “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

She headed back to the nursery, thinking perhaps she could sleep for a little while in the rocking chair until Gabriel was ready to begin the day.  He was currently lying on his back, fast asleep.  She sank down in the cushy comfort of the rocking chair and began to rock.  She rocked slowly, back and forth, feeling her eyes grow heavy with the soothing motion.  Her eyes closed.  The rocking slowed to a stop.

Movement from the crib startled her awake and Maggie’s eyes flew to the crib.  Through the slats she could see that Gabriel was awake and had shifted slightly so that he could look back at her.  His eyes glowed red.

Gabriel giggled.