Cocktail delight
by Shronda S.
forum: Cocktail delight
speculative fiction for the internet generation.

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Cocktail delight


      Myna Hale sat in the empty grass lot as the burning blaze grew higher. Smoke released from her mouth as her cigarette dangled between her fingers as her hand rested on her knee. Lights flashed atop the police squad cars and fire trucks as the sun began to set. Holding the last bit of her cigarette in her mouth, Myna pulled her hair back into a hair tie giving her a long blonde ponytail.

      “Myna! Myna, what happened?” Jenna Garrison moved closer to her next door neighbor. A final puff of smoke escaped from Myna’s lips as her cigarette was extinguished.

      “I have no idea. I went around the corner to the store and came back to this,” Myna said standing. Water streamed onto the almost charred three bedroom house. “That house was so quaint and perfect. You must be devastated to lose everything.”

      “I’ll live.”

      “As long as you are okay, but where’s Jon? His car is here,” Myna looked to the silver Bentley that sat at the curb. Her lips parted as she looked down at the sidewalk and then to her close friend.

      “I don’t know.” Myna stared back at the smoldering house as a small grin appeared upon her face.

      Myna’s day began as regularly as possible. Jon Hale woke minutes after his wife finished cooking the morning breakfast. Moving down the stairs, the aroma of fresh brewed coffee, toast and eggs floated through the air. Jon’s gray crisp suit fitted his slightly muscular body as he slid onto a bar stool opposite the stainless steel kitchen his wife stood in.

      “Good morning, sweetheart.” Myna greeted her husband with a large smile, placing a large plate of two pieces of buttered toast and eggs, sunny side up, in front of him.

      “Have you seen that folder I had last night?” Jon held up his briefcase and began rummaging through it.

      “Is it in your office?”

      “Go get it,” Jon said, still digging through his briefcase. Myna knew that it was another command her husband gave constantly. She moved reluctantly to the office of her administrative husband.

      “Myna! You know I hate my eggs like this. I like them scrambled.” Myna dropped the brown folder into Jon’s lap as she looked at the plate.

      “I’ll fix it.”

      “No matter. I’ve to go. Where’s my coffee?”

      “Freshly brewed.” Myna handed the silver thermos to her husband. She offered her ruby lips for a good bye kiss, but was shunned with the closing of the front door.

      Myna moved from the counter and went about her regular “housework." Opening the hidden wine cabinet, Myna revealed a half bottle of pure vodka. The clear liquor swished around the bottle as she hopped up on the counter.

      “I don’t deserve this,” Myna took a large swash of the colorless spirit as she leaned again the wall.

      “I would kill for something better.” Myna looked around the kitchen at the dishes that sat piled high, odds and ends scattered everywhere and uneaten food and trash piled into the trash bin. Unlike the housewives on television, she was not desperate for sex or the perfect family. Myna wanted a life without the struggle. She wanted a life different from her mother and commanding and abusive father. It must have been the vodka or Myna’s Russian roots, but as she looked at the empty house and thought about her life, she came up with the idea to get rid of all her annoyances and get what she desperately needed.

      Jon Hale entered his home from a long day of work and business luncheons. Jon’s expectation of a home life was coming home to a clean house and a large, hot dinner waiting for him. Jon loosened his tied as he moved to his office but stopped in his tracks as he saw the kitchen as it was that morning.

      “Myna! What the hell is going on?” Myna sat on the counter, Indian style, the newspaper in front of her.

      “What are you doing?”

      “Reading the newspaper.”

      “Did it, at any time today, occur to you that you should have cleaned up?”

      “It did, but I got busy.”

      “Doing what?”

      “Stuff.” Myna looked deep into her husband’s angered eyes.

      “You’ve been drinking.”

      “You’re smart.” Myna let her Russian accent slip from her lips.

      “Clean up. I’m going to be busy doing my work. Something that’s important. Don’t bother me.” Jon headed for his home office.

      “I wouldn’t dare think of doing that.” The door slammed and locked. Myna hopped from her counter seat and retrieved the special surprise she had made earlier. The odor of Russian rye liquor filled the air. Myna began her plan to clean the kitchen. She took one last swig of the liquid and began to cover the kitchen floor with it. The odor of Russian rye liquor filled the air. Within ten minutes, she emptied five bottles within the kitchen and near her husband’s office. Two bottles were left as she grabbed her packet of cigarettes and lighter. Myna placed her ear to Jon's office door. The sound of Jon’s voice was all she could hear through the thick wood door. She silently placed the first vodka bottle onto the floor near the door with the white rag extending from the bottle.

      The sun shone bright in the western sky as Myna Hale walked out of her house. In her left hand was the second of her homemade Molotov cocktails as she held her lighter in her right. She turned to face her perfect little house with its picturesque windows and beautiful lawn. She imagined the perfect life that she was to have in the perfect little house she always dreamed about.

      “Nothing’s perfect.” Myna lit the rag that hung outside the bottle. Quickly throwing the bottle through the front pane window, she moved away into the street.

      The fire inside grew wilder as Myna moved to the empty lot from her house. The grass was still damp from the rain of yesterday. She settled in before the finale she waited for. It was as if the roof jumped from the house as the liquor bomb exploded, starting her new dreams.

      “It’s clean now, Jon.” Myna pulled out one of her nicotine sticks. The little flame licked the end of the cigarette as the larger fire licked at the inside of Jon’s house. Myna blew a small stream of smoke into the afternoon air as screams neared her along with sirens.

      “I need a drink.” Myna smiled on the inside as she watched the crowd gather.




copyright 2006 Shronda S.

Shronda S. is a college student back at the University of New Orleans. She is eighteen years old and began to write at the age of twelve. She is from small town and dreams to go to the big city, New Orleans, where she will return in the Fall of 2006. She is studying Sociology with a concentration on Criminal Justice. Her inspirations for writing began with her 7th grade reading teacher, Mrs. Warren. She aspired to be a writer after reading S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders. She has a young adult novel being looked over for publication and is writing a short story crime drama series. She says she aspires to be as great as her favorite writers: R.L. Stine, Anne Rice, and Patricia Cornwell.