I Ordered a Salad

I had ordered a salad.

Pretty basic thing.

The waitress was kind and genuine, and a real looker to boot. I ordered a diet Pepsi with my salad too, can't stand the taste of water or coffee. So she came back and gave me my diet Pepsi and I drank it down fast, I was thirsty and the damn drink just tasted so good.

The waitress came back with another diet Pepsi and my salad, gave me a quick smile and returned to her work.

I got about halfway through the salad when the waitress came back and asked me if everything was good and I, of course, said yes. She smiled again. She gave me her number after that and said I was cute or something... I don't know. Just as she finished writing down that number, the bell signaling the arrival of another customer dinged.

"I'll call you later," I said, giving her a quick glare.

CRACK!

She went down like a sack of potatoes, leaving a bit of warm, sticky residue on my face.

I stood up and held my father's pistol at the young couple behind me and fired off three more shots. One into the back of his girlfriend's head, and the other two in his chest.

Five more shots and five more people who attempted to flee, fell to the floor. Damn, I'm glad I took those classes! Perfect headshots!

The others didn't even try to escape, probably thinking I was going to spare their lives.

I killed most of them.

Only two remained and I could not find them anywhere, an old man and his grand daughter probably got away today.

The cops pulled up and I continued pulling off a few more shots, taking down one of them. His partner got the upper hand, however, and now here I am lying on my back staring up at a ceiling fan waiting to die.

And who said you can't start a good story with "I ordered a salad?"

What About Mrs. Carolina?

“So, what about Mrs. Carolina?” I asked,
“What about her?” Phil replied,
“Do we just leave her here?”
“Now why would we do that?”

Phil stood there with his arms crossed.

“I don't know, Phil.”
“Well, for fuck's sake, Pete,” he sighed as he lit a cigarette nervously, “We leave her here and then what?”
“Right. Right I get it,” I nodded, “It just seems kind of unnecessary, ya know?”
“Unnecessary? I think we're far off from the whole necessary and unnecessary thing ya think?”

Phil puffed out a breath of smoke into the stars, then stuck the cigarette back in his mouth and sucked in deeply.

“Yeah,” I said, “I guess so,”
“Besides,” he stated, “We can't just turn back now. It's way too late for that. If we do, this shit will be on our minds for the rest of our lives. We'll see Mrs. Carolina here every time we close our eyes if we don't take care of this,”
“Okay, Phil,” I said, “We'll do it.”
“Thatta' boy, Pete,” he gave me a quick pat on the shoulder and smiled, “come on. It'll be fun. Quit being so damn awkward all the time. Hell, I'll even let you have the head.”
“If you say so.”

He laughed and pat me on the shoulder again, then he took the cancer stick from his mouth and cast it onto the concrete and ground out the embers with the heel of his shoe. Then we went inside.
Mrs. Carolina knew how to decorate. Fine this, fine that-- her husband sure as shit didn't have a taste for fine things. Except, women. He knew how to pick 'em. Mrs. Carolina, with that golden hair of hers and those emerald eyes that just pierce you whenever she looks at you; and damn was she smart, I mean, she was a teacher after all. She was tough too, I like that in a woman, it gets me off when I know they can take control in an instant.
Mr. Carolina was out of town on business probably screwing an assistant in the room of some roach motel. Tonight was a perfect night for this. The kid gone. Just Mrs. Carolina.


Somewhere in the farther reaches of the house I could hear Mrs. Carolina's muffled voice speaking. Pete had her call her husband and check in. The call didn't last very long, Mr. Carolina made it brief, he probably was getting hard while a tan, young receptionist rubbed her soft hands all over him.
Pete and I turned into a hall lined with family photos and fill in photography of flowers or bees or anything nature like for that matter.

We came to a dark walnut door and Pete raised his hand in the cockiest damn way and gently knocked with that five cent grin of his. Without an answer he opened the door still holding that cheesy smirk on his face and we went in.

“Hey Mrs. Carolina,” Phil said slyly,
“Hey boys,” she said licking those cherry red lips of hers as she dropped the right side of her dress and exposed her pink, perky nipples. She stood up and let the rest of her clothing fall to the ground. Phil stepped behind her and felt her up a little and she knelt down in front of me, carefully placed her bottom on Phil's crotch and started to undo the button on my jeans,

“You still want the head right, Pete?” he said as he quickly undid his pants and shoved himself inside of her,
“Yeah, I do, Phil.”

She took me in her mouth and started to moan around me.

The Phone Call

It started when I was on the toilet, attempting to take a shit, in case you couldn't guess, and it was late or early for some. My phone read one-thirty-two in the morning and I was bone tired. I needed to use the bathroom immensely, I mean, it woke me up out of my sleep-- the toilet must have been calling to me or something.

Anyway, I turn on my phone screen and click the Google search bar and got curious about the next big PlayStation release and attempt to type out the words on my phone. I clicked the letter L and attempted to click the I, when my phone started spazzing out and typing out a whole bunch of crazy shit.

I didn't think much of the glitch, at first, I just assumed it was a virus that latched itself onto my phone from all the porn I had been watching. Not much else.

I restarted the phone and as the screen flashed on, my lock screen background had changed to a picture of me sitting on the toilet a few seconds ago. Once again, just thought it was a virus. I returned to the Google search bar and attempt to search again, the same glitch happened except this time the phone backed out of Google and turned the screen off.

“Are you fucking kidding?” I mumbled to myself.

I turned the screen back on and found that the lock screen had been changed again. The screen this time, however, had been changed into a picture of me or-- at least what I thought was me-- laying on a bed, bound by a lot of duct tape and covered in multiple stab wounds and blood. My eyes had been sunken and looked as if I was drunk.

“Holy fucking shit,” I said, my heart beginning to pound,

Suddenly, I got a phone call from some glitched out number. I hesitated, this was some straight up Creepy Pasta shit, dude, but I answered anyway.

“H—H—Hello?” I whispered into the receiver,

All that greeted me was a piercing shriek that curdled my blood. Not only had my left ear began to ring, the phone-- shocked me. Pulling it away from my face, I saw on the screen the look of a girl whose mouth was hung open wide and her empty eyes seemingly beginning to cry while the rest of her face remained still. I froze there on the spot. Fuck me! I couldn't put down the phone or anything!

“Why did he do this to me!? WHY!?” she cried,

She screamed again and I threw the phone at the bathroom door. As the screen landed face down on the tile, the light bulbs above the sink mirror burst.

As I sat there in the darkness, the girl's sobs seemed to come from right beside me then suddenly stop.

All that came after that was the large BLOOP as my shit hit the toilet bowl.