Best Served Cold

photo by Melissa R. Bickel

"...severe thunderstorms in the listening area with damaging winds and flooding. As of 3:00 Eastern Standard Time, a hurricane has formed off the coast and is approaching land at approximately 40 miles per hour. Listeners are advised to stay off of the roadways and to seek shelter indoors..."

Shannan pressed down on the accelerator pedal and cursed as her Civic hydroplaned in response. She wanted to get home before her ice cream melted and her reduced price hamburger grew a new life form.

"No wonder the grocery store was such a zoo!" she thought. "Leave it to me to run out of toilet paper when they're predicting a hurricane!"

Shannan squinted through the car window, trying to stay in her lane. The rain streaming down and the static of her car radio combined to form one incomprehensible din in her ears. Route 39 was eerily empty. Did everyone actually listen to the warning to stay off the roads?

Up ahead Shannan saw what appeared to be a person by the side of the road. She slowed her car as she approached to see what other unfortunate soul was stuck out in this mess.

"Holy crap!" Pacing in the downpour with her cell phone in one hand and gesticulating wildly with the other at an obviously flat tire on her Lexus, was Shannan's mother-in-law. Even with the rain blurring her view, Shannan could see that she was looking even more put-out than usual. Shannan reflexively slowed her car even more and put her finger on the door button to unlock it. Then, she didn't. She removed her hand from the door lock, put her pinky finger to her mouth, and chewed on her nail. Then she smiled. And she drove away, whispering, "Good luck." Her mother-in-law never even saw her.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. It's also pretty good wet.


submitted for Thursday Short Story Slam at Bluebell Books