WRITING PROMPT: Should I Get Ice Cream, Or Murder?

Writing Prompts: Angry Girl With Cutlery

Today’s writing prompt is the first sentence of this piece. Enjoy!


I’m either going out for ice cream, or to commit a heinous crime. I’ll decide in the car.

Because what do I got to lose? I probably won’t make this month’s rent. The fuckin’ company threw me out, just like that. No severance package, no notice period, nothing.

“Isn’t that illegal?” I asked.

“What you gonna do about it?” the HR guy said. I don’t even remember his name. That department has always been good for nothing.

Fuckin’ murder. That’s what I’m gonna do. I don’t know. I haven’t decided. But who do I shank? The boss, who’s always breathing down my neck? Or Mister HR? Maybe this asshole in front of me who’s hogging the damn lane.

“Hey, fuck you, guy!” I shout over my own honking. I pull up beside him and try to edge him off the road. That’s right. Just gimme a reason.

I finally get a view of the driver, and for a split second, I’m awash with self doubt. The guy looks huge. Fortunately, he pulled over and I see his headlights shrink in my rearview mirror.

I almost flip him the bird, but a shred of logic holds me back. Gotta pick my battles. Like the one I’ll have with Marcy. Fuckin’ Marcy. Straight up threw me under the bus.

“Oh, I think you’re doing great!” she’d said. “If there’s ever a slot in management, I’ll personally vouch for you.”

But the only vouching she ever did was for my lacklustre performance, just two weeks after that fake compliment. Two weeks! The company had to downsize, and she chose me as the weakest performer in the sales team.

Hey, the entire team wasn’t performing either—the economy—so I’ve no idea why she chose to single me out, even when she knew of my situation. Couldn’t she have picked lazy Debbie, who was living off her inheritance? Or maybe creepy Tim, who was always perving on the women? Why me?

I’m reaching the ice-cream store, but I haven’t decided. So let’s park over here, right next to this ATM.

Wouldn’t it be easy to just wait here and pounce on an unsuspecting person full of cash? Maybe I should wait a moment and see if it’s better than a cup of chocolate mint.

Or maybe, I should just drive right up to Marcy’s place and ‘convince’ her to reverse her decision.

Fuck it. I’m too lazy. Let’s see if I can stir some shit on the walk to the ice-cream place.

I spark up a joint. Maybe I could turn some cop’s shift into a nightmare. Oh I’m in the mood tonight. Unfortunately, it’s an uneventful ten minutes.

I get to the place, and a kid is blocking the door. For God’s sake, I don’t want to hurt a kid, so I ask him to scram.

“You got a dollar, mister?”

“No. And don’t ask me again. Get out of the way.”

“Please? I just want to buy some bread.”

“Well that’s your own damn problem. Where’s your parents?”

His lips quiver, and he shifts to make way for me. “I don’t know.”

“Whaddaya mean you don’t know?”

“T-they said they’ll be back. But I waited and waited. And I came here for some food, but nobody would give me any money. And nobody cares! And I’m hungry!” He says this, and I expect him to cry, but he just turns away and stares off into the distance.

So this night has come to this. I sigh as I fiddle the knife I had packed in my pocket.

“You want some ice cream?” I say.

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