Thread: Writing Challenge [06/23/2008]: Bad case of the mondays?

Writing Challenge [6/20/08]: Bad case of the mondays?
Type: Fiction/Short
Posted: 12:01am (GMT -6)
Deadline: 07:00pm (GMT -6) 06/27/2008

[Topic submitted by winner Wildcard]: Write a story 500 words or less in which someone has a complete mental breakdown and goes on a rampage, after which he/she dies tragically.

‘Fuck. I fucking hate fucking Mondays,’ Chris reflected tightening his tie.

Forty.

Forty two.

Forty five.

Fifty.

Ding.

Following the other employees like lambs to the slaughter Chris stumbled into the office, briefcase in hand. Arriving at his cubical he tossed the briefcase on the floor and collapsed into his computer chair. Closing his eyes Chris drifted off into a light sleep.

Good morning employees!

The message jarred Chris from his glorious state of mental vacation. It was a lot like being woken up from a falling dream, anxious and clammy. Realizing his perspiration smelt like a fucking brewery Chris dry retched.

The message continued over the loud speaker, as it always did. Chris hated the Monday morning announcement more than anything.

I hope everyone is rested and recuperated after a relaxing weekend. Let’s have a productive week.
Leaning forwards Chris switched on his computer, but his stomach churned forcing him back into his chair.

Just then Chris’s ears perked up. Fuck. The one thing he hated more than the Monday morning announcement was Jenna, the annoying cunt that sits behind him. She greeted everyone individually every morning and she always arrived at Chris’s cubical at precisely 9:12am. It was 9:09.

Opening the lowest compartment of his small filing cabinet Chris pulled out his Glock nine millimeter.

Gun: Check.

Chris ejected, inspected and replaced the clip, then turned off the safety.

Ammo: Check.

9:12am. Around the corner came Jenna. Chris was disgusted by her and her fucking floral ensembles. She must shop at a fucking morgue. The only people who wear clothes like that die alone surrounded by cats.

Target: Check.

“Good morning Sweetie. Wow, looks like someone had a late night,” he squealed while pinching his cheek. She continued, “Now sweetie, what did I tell you about partying on Sunday nights?”

Chris brought his right hand out from under his desk and pointed the weapon towards Jenna’s horror stricken face. “I told you not to fucking call me sweetie, you miserable fucking bitch,” he screamed and pulled the trigger.

All of this sudden action was too much for Chris in his current state he stumbled, bracing himself with the cubical wall. Hunching over Chris vomited on his desk. By this time everyone in the office was screaming and sprinting towards the exits. Falling back into his chair, Chris looked across the aisle and made eye contact with Joey. Joey was sitting in his own computer chair, obviously in shock; Joey also happened to be covered in Jenna. Without breaking eye contact Chris raised the gun again. But Chris enjoyed Joey. Joey was a good kid and sometimes he even emailed Chris pictures of lawl cats. So Chris put the gun to his own temple and pulled the trigger.

Chris woke up being shaken, what the fuck he thought. Then he heard it, “Good morning sweetie. Wow, looks like someone had a late night.”

“Fucking Jenna,” thought Chris, “Note to self, buy a gun.”

I've got one.


-----------------------------------------------
Kevin Michael always hated Monday. It was the day of the week when all the built up crap from the weekend was shoved off to him. It was the day when the coffeemaker had to get out all the water that had sat in the mechanism over the weekend, and didn't have decent coffee until half the office had already gone home.


So now it was Monday again. And Kevin was pissed AT THIS DAMN DRIVER TRYING TO CUT HIM OFF! Kevin honked his horn twice, sped up next to the guy, and gave him the finger. Road rage was also a sign that it was Monday. Oh joy....

***

Kevin made it to work on time. But barely. And not two seconds later the intern, Lyle, tried handing Kevin a stack of papers. Kevin sulked over to his desk, ignoring the intern. However, Lyle followed Kevin. And again Lyle tried handing Kevin the stack of papers. Lyle apparently didn't get the hint, so Kevin flung his arm up and sent papers everywhere.

Kevin's boss, Greg, cautiously walked over to Kevin.

"Kevin, is everything alright? You seem a bit angry today."

"Do I?" said Kevin, teeth clenched, "Do I really?"


And in a split second Kevin was out of his desk, ranting at his boss, then at his co-workers, and as he backed up down the aisle of cubicles, he found himself shouting louder and louder and talking to more and more of the office.

The glass window that overlooked the downtown streets loomed nearer and nearer, but Kevin didn't notice.

And finally he shouted with all the energy in his being:

"I CAN'T TAKE IT ANY FUCKING MORE!"

And somehow, probably from the intensity of his scream if anything, Kevin lost his balance. He stumbled, trying to get steady, but it was too late. He crashed through the glass, and, knocked senseless, plummeted down to the street below.

He landed on a car. It was the intern's.

Kristin could hear the shouting through the paper thin walls of the trailer. Her little brother, Eric, had already been lulled to sleep by her lullaby earlier. She didn’t want him to hear their parents scream at each other. One of the only moments the thirteen year old was glad he slept like a rock.

The shouting only continued into the night as she sat listening. As the light was coming over the trees a shot rang out and Kristin jumped to her feet. Going to the door she opened it slowly. What greeted her was her mother’s lifeless body lying in a rapidly expanding pool of blood from her chest. She gurgled as Kristen, wide eyed, took a step into the hall.

The gun, her fathers, sat next to her, the man who had pulled the trigger was pressed against the small counter, eyes wide and fearful. He saw Kristen and started saying something. The girl didn’t hear her father though. Her wide eyes blinked slowly before she seemed to calm down. Walking towards her dead mother her hand reached for the gun and lifted it to point at her killer. The same man had taken her out to the range a couple of times and while she had to use two hands to hold the gun, aiming was not even a problem.

Kristen couldn’t seem to hear anything anymore. There was blood rushing through her ears as she watched her father fall to the ground bleeding from his chest. And then they were gone. She was out side and heading for the neighbors. The ones who had never tried to help, never called the police and were both safely tucked into bed. She wasn’t quite sure how she got inside the trailer but she did and stood at the foot of the bed. Two more silent shots and they were dyeing the floral pattern comforter red.

She moved from house to house. All those people who hadn’t helped, hadn’t done anything for her or her brother. She then walked back to her own house. In this sad and decrepit part of the county no one had even woke to the sound of gun fire. She had some blood on her from several people who had died that night and she trudged into the room were Eric was still sleeping a little restlessly. She walked over and reached out a hand, stroking his hair.

The small gesture almost made her wretch with a sudden convulsion; she silently sobbed over her brother. Wandering over to the door she looked back and then closed it behind her, walking out the front door and using the second to last bullet left. Aiming the barrel at her stomach, she pulled the trigger and collapsed to the ground. She hadn’t known that it would be slow but she didn’t really mind. Her tears mixed with the blood and she sang herself to sleep the same way she had Eric earlier that night.

Edropussssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

[kast13] Bloody Floral Patterns
Upside: Quick, fast pace, doesn't waste any words. Familiar; who hasn't been there?
Downside: Weak dream ending.
Favorite Line: The message jarred Chris from his glorious state of mental vacation. It was a lot like being woken up from a falling dream, anxious and clammy.

[David Reinold] Geronimo
Upside: Great ending, down to earth, pretty much believable straight through. Lyle following him around made me laugh.
Downside: Arguably not a rampage.
Favorite Line: He landed on a car. It was the intern's.

[Earthy Greendragon] The Kristin Holland Massacre
Upside: Pretty brutal. Bang, bang. Everyone dies. Horray! Self-inflicted gunshot to the stomach. Shitty!
Downside: Nothing to break up the narrative.
Favorite Line: Her tears mixed with the blood and she sang herself to sleep the same way she had Eric earlier that night.

[The Winner]: Earthy Greendragon

This was a pretty hard one for me. It would have been a three-way decision, but 'dream' endings always get to me. Down to Earthy and David, I had to weigh David's quick narrative against Earthy really embracing the psychotic massacre theme. In the end, I'm a sucker for violence; the murder-suicide-suicide wins.

As always, Earthy, being the winner, can send me a PM and decide the next topic. Thanks for writing, you three; this was by far the hardest decision yet.