The Take Ten for Writer’s exercise I did for today was a little tricky. I had to use the following ten words in at least ten sentences. In the book the exercise was called Bowl Me Over, because if you used all ten words that was a strike, nine words was a spare, and eight was a split.
But I’ve decided to call my piece “Two Pieces of Toast and an Ex-Lover to Go.”
Here are the words I had to use.
I’ve bolded and italicized where I used the above words.
I carefully placed my fork on the table, which I had originally set out to eat pancakes with, but was looking more like a potential weapon to put out a certain person’s eyes with. Then I looked over at my current, soon to be ex, lover. He only glared at me with that same pained grimace he’d graced me with since he’d gotten up that morning. As usual, I’d been up for at least an hour before him.
When I got up this morning, I forgot to look out for then step over his socks, which he has a habit of taking off, soaking wet, and leaving on the floor next to the bed. I don’t know why his socks are wet in the first place or why they tend to stay soggy even overnight. He tends to favor thick, wool socks. Even in summer.
After that rather unpleasant experience of my bare feet squishing against his soggy socks, I pushed myself forward into the bathroom and took a shower. I made sure I took a long enough shower that I used up all the hot water. It would be hours before the hot water heater would create enough heat to make the water less than arctic cold.
Once I was done showering, while I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth, an airplane flew overhead. We live really close to the airport, and this plane must have been flying awfully low as it shook the entire building. But do you think it woke up that asshole? No, it didn’t. I could hear him snoring even through the bathroom door.
I then started to make breakfast. I was deciding between pancakes and toast when the phone rang. I took my time answering it because most likely it was that devil of a landlord bitching about the rent being late. It was my lover’s turn to pay it this month, but do you think he had?
I finally answered the phone. My landlord is quite eloquent when it comes to cursing. I swear, that man can think of the most inventive ways to use four-letter words. I think he should have been a comedian instead of a curmudgeonly property owner. He’s not that funny, but he can certainly shock people, which can, in and of itself, be pretty funny.
After I promised to get the rent to him as soon as I could, I put two pieces of bread into the toaster. Just enough for me, myself and I. Then I went back into the bathroom and grabbed my lover’s hair gel off the counter and used it all on my hair. He’d complain about it, of course, but I figured he owed me at the very least for being late with the rent.
Once the toast was done, I harvested what was left of the jelly and spread it all over my toast. He’d be irate about it when he woke up. There was nothing in the fridge to put on toast but butter. I couldn’t help but snicker.
But, as I morosely chewed on my toast, I thought to myself that perhaps it was time to get rid of him and all of his junk. He wasn’t that great in bed, and I was tired of him getting on my case about me wanting to quit my job and go back to school.
He finally got up, griped about the hair gel, grumbled about my having ate up the last of the jelly then asked me rather nastily as to why I hadn’t made him any damn pancakes, which I did not deign to answer. So now, finally as I’m looking at him across the kitchen table, my fork safely out of reach for now, I’ve decided, oh, yeah, he’s getting out of my life for good.