This is for him . . .
“Ma’am, would you be so kind as to . . .” I got no further.
The large woman seated behind the desk surged to her feet and pointed a plump, shaking finger at me. “Insubordination!” she shrieked.
I felt my eyes widen. I took a step back. “Ex-excuse me?”
“You miserable excuse for a man!” Her voice became even shriller. “What do you mean by coming here at this hour?!” She shot a telling glance at the nearby clock.
“I . . . what?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I see retribution for you! I see despair and a plethora of demons just waiting to grasp you in their claws and pull you down to where you will be properly inducted into those halls from which the wicked forever burn and never escape!”
I blinked and looked around, then indicated myself questioningly.
The finger came out again. “Yes, you! Demon-spawn!” She waved her hand, indicating the spotless corridors that lead off in every direction. “Watch and beware. The demons are preparing as we speak. Your time is at hand!”
I glanced rather nervously to the right and left. “Demons? C-claws? But I only . . .”
“Speak not! You will only seal your fate!”
“Seal my . . . but I came to . . .”
“Silence!” the voice had become a shrieking siren of sound. The small, watery, piercing eyes glanced down at my hands. “Hold! What do you carry there?”
I lifted an almost-forgotten package. “I . . . um . . .”
“Is it a potion? A talisman? Something from your master?”
“I . . . master? Well, actually, yes.”
“Give it to me little man! Before I set the denizens of hell upon you!”
“Ummm . . . here.”
She pounced, holding the seized package up and peering at it closely.
I lifted the clipboard in my other hand. “Erm . . . you’ll have to sign here. And here.”
“Ooh! It’s my samples from the museum!” The woman poked out a thick tongue and licked rubbery lips which had curved into the semblance of a smile. Then she grabbed a pen and scribbled next to my finger. “There! Thanks, Bruce! Next time, don’t be late!”
“See you tomorrow, Clara.”
Every week, without fanfare or glory, Delores of Under the Porch Light quietly posts six little words.
Words meant to stump and/or amaze.
Or just really, really aggravate.
Then, those of us who follow her without question dip pens in ink and attempt to obey.
This week's offering?
insubordination, inducted, despair, plethora, museum and retribution.
I thought a shot of flash fiction would be fun.
How did I do?