Perspective

[Dorothy Hoffman]

Dying wasn’t the worst thing that happened to Lily that Monday morning, though it was the last.

Arriving at her desk with last night’s recycled “leftover surprise” still threatening to recycle itself once more, she quickly sensed something not quite right in the office– the lethal glares from her supervisor and several coworkers, was the tip-off– and the unpleasant thought began to form in her muddled mind that those alcohol-induced rants she’d posted on facebook for a few thousand of her closest friends over the weekend may possibly have found their way to some of the targets of her toxic witticisms.

An hour later, as she hurriedly packed her “personal items” into a small carton thoughtfully provided by a cubicle neighbor, along with a few words of encouragements (“hasta la vista, bitch”), her security escorts impatiently tapping their feet on the cheap carpeting, she managed to splatter her brand new Evan Picone blouse with the $7 latte she’d splurged on that morning before being unceremoniously hustled out the door.

“Well,” Lily muttered, perhaps not too wisely picking up speed as she approached the heavily potholed bridge over the river separating the city from her peaceful (some would say deadly dull) suburban community, “what else could possibly go wrong now?” – the words barely out of her mouth, when the malevolent universe answered with a vengeance. A jagged piece of loose concrete directly in her path popped her left front tire like an over-ripe pimple, sending the car crashing through the rusted-out guard rail, sailing in a graceful 45-degree arc, splat into the river, plummeting to the muddy bottom – oh crap, probably should have rolled up the windows.

The water filling her lungs was making breathing somewhat difficult not to mention pointless, but as a brightly colored school of fish floated serenely by and her life slowly ebbed from her body like the oil leaking from her 15-year-old Honda, Lily had one final deep thought: “I think those bastards at Starbucks overcharged me for that latte.”

[Dorothy Hoffman]

Thanks for all the kind comments. I love the word "drunkbooking" and plan to use it frequently from now on when describing my writing style.

[Teresa]

I try to avoid Facebook and this is why.  Hope your bad day had nothing to do with cars under water!!  Great post.

[Judy Thompson]

this is wonderful,  and a warning that Facebook does indeed let us destroy ourselves in a very public way...a thousand of your closest friends can't be wrong.   The transition between paragraph two and paragraph three was a huge leap,  but very skillfully done.  No seams. 

[Robert Crisman]

Facebook, Starbucks, potholes, and booze; she didn't have a chance...

[Angela]

Ha!!  Priceless and oh so smooth.  My friends call it "drunkbooking".  Really, you packed a lot into six sentences and it did not feel forced whatsoever.