The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #44

crazyThe Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #44

One Image

One Prompt

One Emotion

200 Words

A crying infant

A tip from a waitress


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6 thoughts on “The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #44

  1. The other customers seemed a little distracted, even ‘off’ with me but I didn’t care, I was glad to be there. The hustle and bustle of the restaurant was heaven compared to the chaos in the house, what with our new baby screaming 24/7 and the wife crying and pulling out her hair with worry. Stomach pains, that’s what the doctor said. Happens to almost all babies nowadays. Great. But what about our pain? Neither of us had slept properly in weeks. I got lucky, had a business call and was able to pop out for this meeting. But that went pretty quick, too quick, in fact, like I was some leper or something. The guy took what he needed and left me with a plate-load of food. When the waitress came over she was a little too cocky, like she knew something.
    “Here’s your bill, sir,” she smirked.
    “Thanks.” For that I left her less than the stipulated tip, which took that grin off her face.
    “Why, thank you, sir, most generous.”
    “You wanna tip, sir?”
    “Next time, sir, check that suit doesn’t have baby puke on the shoulder and a dirty nappy hanging from the pocket.”

  2. She said to be careful. I should have listened.

    I met her at Denny’s where she waitressed. I asked her out on a whim and quickly we were burning it hot between the sheets every chance we got. We were wild together but I knew it wasn’t meant to be. I knew it every time we got in a fight over nothing. I knew it every time I had to clean up glass after she left. I knew it when she lectured me on social issues she knew very little about. Despite all this, the sex was amazing and I got distracted by that and lost sight of what I knew to be the best thing for both of us.

    So, after four months living dangerously, it should come as no surprise that things went from complicated to completely out of this world. She called me one night and told me she had been to the abortion clinic, but couldn’t bring herself to go inside. I didn’t have to ask why. Not that I could anyway.

    Thinking back, there is regret, but when I look in my baby boy’s eyes I find strength and tell myself it’s all for him now.

  3. Their favourite waitress had said the photographer was highly artistic and very good.

    His card said:
    Your portrait,
    as you really are.

    “What should we wear?” Samantha asked him. “Remember we have a newborn baby.”

    “I dislike formality,” he said. “Casual. What you normally wear.’

    Samantha came dressed in designer chic, a muslin top over a cami in the palest pink; husband Pete was in a pink and blue checked shirt. The baby was in a pale blue stretch’n’grow that picked up the blue in Pete’s shirt. Samantha was pleased with the colour coordination.

    The photographer fussed interminably and soon the baby had had enough. He screwed up his little face, turned bright red and shrieked. Suddenly, he pooped. By the time they’d cleaned him up, bright yellow poo had soaked right through everything he wore, over the pink and blue shirt and stained the front of Samantha’s muslin over-blouse.

    ‘Shit,’ said the photographer, somewhat distracted.

    Pete shot him a look as he whipped off his shirt. Samantha cleaned up the baby and wriggled out of the muslin. The baby screamed; Samantha tore out her hair and Pete yelled.

    ‘Look at me!’ the photographer said.


    “Yes. Exactly…as you really are.”

  4. It was late on the Saturday night, and I was about to close the diner when a young couple came in and sat down. I noticed the tension, and figured I’d give them some space.

    After a few minutes I eased over their way. That’s when I overheard some of their conversation.

    Him – “ … it’s not that I don’t love you. It’s just that I’ve got so many other things going on right now. There’s the bowling team, my dirt bike races, and the fishing tournament …”

    Her – “I can’t believe you! You think this is a one big game, don’t you!

    I stood there with my pad and pencil, and looked at the two. I knew what was going on; I’d been there. I shifted my weight to the other foot, and leaned closer to the woman, taking sides, and said to the man, “Grow up!”

    He looked at me with glaze of distraction in his eyes. Suddenly he vomited, and up came a screaming pink baby boy.

    “That-a-boy!“ I remarked, “Now … you two want some coffee? You can stay here as long as you need to talk this through …

    … like two mature adults!”

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