A Short Story by: Steven Lewis
From a low mouse like perspective looking up at an open door, the scene begins with an enraged young woman entering the office. Only seeing the bottom of her black and white pleated skirt, heavily torn fishnet stockings and her loved but well-traveled faded black boots. The secretary frantically tries to stop her. “Miss! You can’t go in there!” But she ignores the baseless warnings and enters the office with authority though battered and bruised. Behind the colossal and commanding desk there is a predominant male figure which we can only hear and not see, welcoming her into his pristine and nearly blinding bright office. “Oh, Stephanie! It’s always a delight to see you. Why back so soon?” That’s when she begins her anger-filled rant with “You Motherfucker!” Listing countless unnecessary hardships and senseless acts of violence that she has endured, from childhood to her tragic shortened adult life. About halfway into her 6-minute tongue lashing, she says “Oh yeah, let’s not forget about being born in the wrong body of an oppressed minority in a racist and transphobic country. You’re so fucking funny!” As she continues venting at the top of her lungs, crying uncontrollably all the while. “You watched me— you watched us get the shit beaten out of us, constantly bullied, endlessly raped and molested, stripping us of any dignity, and YOU call it a test?!” The figure of importance behind the desk tells her all her needs were met and how there were hundreds of millions of people who wished they had a life that was so well taken care of. She quickly interrupts, “You arrogant prick! You don’t get it! You need to go back down there again and see what it’s like now!” He proudly says slowly, “You do — know who you’re talking to?” Sarcastically she replies, “I know full well who you are! With your numerous misguided cults and so-called devoted followers”. “Hey, let’s not be rude,” he replies defensively. She continues her tear-filled and rage filled outburst. Pacing back and forth with her bruised hands tightening into fist, only seeing her as she passes by the opening of the door. She then goes on to explain how she is sick of his lack of attention to “all the problems down there” pointing to a brightly lit blue object on his desk just out of view. She angrily states, “You don’t fucking give a shit! Not even a little.” She then pauses expecting him to answer. He calmly responds, “You know the rules. I can’t get involved.” She fiercely shouts, “Can’t get involved?” Pointing her finger at him, “This whole thing is YOUR perverted idea! You made the rules, then made a world that was designed to break them. You have the nerve to call it free will. It’s fucking entrapment!” Then continues with, “All the senseless wars, the preventable hunger, generational poverty, let’s not forget about the open racism, the demeaning layers of misogyny along with the hatred of anything different! And you can’t get involved? We thought You cared.” “I do” he quickly answers. Screaming at him, “You’re a fucking liar!” Trying to get control of the situation and shifting his seat forward, he tries offers her a better life than before. Cutting him off again, “You made me endure the absolute worst parts of humanity, and you dare ask if I want to “Try it again?” Like it’s some type of fucking cosmic carnival ride I can just hop back on and pretend it won’t break me again. No fucking way! I’m not going to play your stupid game anymore!” With both of her bloody hands, she clears everything off his neatly organized desk. As the contents of his desk hits the floor, a softball-sized glowing sphere falls off his desk and starts to roll out of his office. From the corner of her tear-filled eyes, she notices it rolling away, she briskly walks over and picks it up. He nervously says, “Be very careful with that. It is one of a kind and unbelievably fragile.” She responds, “Fuck You and Your pale blue dot!” With all her anger, rage, and frustration, she throws it at him. But being physically drained from screaming, crying along with having poor aim, it completely misses him. It crashes through the window behind him. She then turns away, grabs the door handle, slamming it behind her so hard that it breaks the stain glass window in the door. The colorful broken glass sparkles in the light as it falls and hits the floor. One of the larger pieces comes into view and you can see a name that was painted on the window. In a metallic gold papyrus font read, “God”.
Thanks for stopping by,
Steven
