A husband and wife are meeting in a restaurant to finalize the terms of their impending divorce. Write the scene from the point of view of a busboy snorting cocaine in the restroom.
I hate this fucking job. All the snot-nosed kids dropping their fucking crayons, parents asking me for more, complaining the eggs are cold or done wrong, leaving a couple bucks on the table like they’re doing me some goddamn favor.
[verifies once more that bathroom door is securely locked and takes hand mirror out of toilet tank and baggie of cocaine out of boxer shorts]
Only time this fucking job’s interesting is when we got people coming in here to break up. Usually they order dessert, which I really don’t get – I mean, who the fuck comes to this dump for dessert? – and you can tell right away what’s coming. The girl’s eyes’re already red – she knows what he’s gonna say – and he don’t look at her eyes, just looks down at the table and says it ain’t working.
[lays mirror down on edge of basin with unopened baggie on top while digging around in wallet for razor blade]
Then the girl really starts to cry – tears and snot everywhere – and the guy asks for extra napkins, like he needs ‘em because he had this messy dessert, you know?
[locates razor blade, taps cocaine onto mirror, cuts into four lines]
Most of ‘em are like that. But tonight – tonight was really good. This chick was a real ballbreaker – man, she really laid it on that poor sucker she was with.
[pulls out restaurant straw – already unwrapped and cut in half – snorts one line, wipes nose and takes deep breath before continuing]
Sounded like they was headed to court next day to finish up their divorce. She had this huge stack of papers she was reading from, telling him what she’s gonna get and what he’s gonna get. Guy’s just sitting there – looking bored, drinking his coffee, checking his watch.
[leans down and snorts second line]
She finally stops yapping and looks at him, like she’s expecting him to argue with her. Maybe even like she hopes he’ll argue with her. But he just looks right through her and says, “Is that it?” Guy’s about three-quarters past give-a-shit – you can tell he just wants to get the fuck out of there.
[leans down again and snorts third line]
She looks all tired and nods. But then she gets her fire back, and she says, “I’ll be so glad to be rid of you,” snarling kinda like an animal, but he don’t even notice. He’s already heading for the door, left her with the check and everything.
[leans down once more to snort the final line]
He’s out the door, and she just crumples. Puts her head in her hands, elbows on the table, shaking all over. Getting tears and snot all over that precious stack of papers.
[licks the mirror and rinses it before returning it to the toilet tank and stuffing the baggie back into his shorts]
And I see him out in the parking lot, getting into his car. There’s a chick in there, probably ten, fifteen years younger than the ballbreaker. I only get a quick glance though, ‘cause her head disappeared. You know?
[winks as he puts the blade in his wallet and the straw in the trash]
I guess when you got that kinda action, it don’t matter whether you get the Billy Joel albums, huh?
Julie is a mother of two girls who knows nothing about cocaine beyond what she’s seen in movies.
You can find her at mothergoosemouse.com, which is where I am posting today.
This post is part of the September Blog Exchange. This month's exchange is a little different - we're all writing short (fictional) stories based on the 13 Writing Prompts found at McSweeney's. You can find me at Julie's place today, and the full list of participants can be found by clicking here.
