So a while back one of the podcasts I listen to set three words as a writing prompt. At the time I didn’t mess with them other than to write them down. I mean, you can’t go wrong with a story that requires a pumpkin, a chainsaw, and a clown.
You know where this is going don’t you? Should be fairly obvious at any rate. This is a quick one and I want to apologize in advance… I didn’t get a pumpkin into the piece anywhere. Although, you could say I have the spirit of the jack-o-lantern.
Clearing the Yard
Eddie fired up the chainsaw. It wasn’t everyday he had a chance to play with power tools, so he chose to savor the moment. Jen pestered him to take care of the overgrowth in the back lot. But he had work and drinks with the guys to contend with.
Her voice set him off though, never could escape the high pitched wails. It drove him over the edge, pushed him to the point where he screamed at her, “Fine! Fine! You win.”
“Do I?” She asked. “Then why aren’t you making it happen?”
He felt her eyes on the back of his head as he pulled the cord. The chainsaw spit and fought his attempts to start it. She judged him for it, how could she not. Judged him with her gimlet eyes and crossed arm stance.
Performance under pressure never worked in his favor. Eddie pulled the polka dotted hanky from his flowered coat, to wipe his brow. White face paint smudged the hanky and smeared from his forehead. Great, just great, now he would have to re-apply.
He adjusted the throttle on the chainsaw then pulled the cord again. This time it burst into operation. The tool rattled and shook ready to chew through the growth in the backyard.
“Bout time,” she said. “Maybe you can get this done now.” The words cut him, chewed into his soul much like the chainsaw ripping through tree stumps. She left pieces of him on the floor, the detritus of her verbal assaults against his manhood.
He stepped into the yard, gunning the chainsaw to keep it running. “Look at them,” he said. “Spindly and weak, she could have done this herself. But no, she has important things to do.” His voice jumped an octave when he mimicked her. It wasn’t even close but gave him a giggle anyway.
Was it the giggle or the revving chainsaw that set them on edge? Their eyes, so unlike hers, he could see something more like respect in their eyes. Or maybe it was fear. Fear is a form of respect, Eddie thought.
They squirmed and cringed away when he engaged the blade of the chainsaw. “I don’t think you understand,” he said. “This has to be done. Not just for her. I would never do it just for her.” He caressed the cheek of the first and pulled the tape from her mouth. “Please, sing for me.”
Her screams filled the air as he cut through her arms and legs.