Shattered Impasse
Each night it’s the same dream. I’m at a crossroads, where options are presented with faded, though legible signs. Just as in waking life, I’m paralyzed, unable to make a decision.
“Get your fat ass out of bed and make my breakfast!!!!!” His roar from the kitchen rouses me. My warm feet feel for my cold slippers. After a pitstop, I shuffle to the kitchen, heading for a cuppajoe.
“No coffee until you cook breakfast,” he commands, a sneer in his voice.
Undeterred, I continue toward the nearly full pot, grab it, turn, and hurl it at his head.
[99 words]
Thank you, Rochelle, for using my photo for this week’s prompt.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is the host of
Friday Fictioneers.
Tao-Talk 
Hehehe 😆 Now, I’m wondering what happened to him after he got hit. Great story, Lisa! 👍
Also, thank you for sharing this picture as this week’s prompt; that really sparked my imagination. ☺️
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I think there’s a Bible verse that goes, “As ye sow, so shall ye reap.” His harvest was unexpectedly bountiful :) Thanks, Yasan!
My pleasure on sharing the picture and glad it sparked your imagination <3
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I would had hurled it too. Great story and photo Lisa ❤️💜
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Maggie, me too. Nobody gets between me and my first cuppajoe ;) Thank you x 2 <3
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Good move! Follow up with a cast iron skillet, I say.
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lol, Ron! If he keeps it up after that, for sure. Maybe he will just leave … her in peace.
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I imagine that he is going to have to make his own breakfast from now on.
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