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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Gothic · #1210359
A women realizes her final new years resolution
Party Hat
              Every time that ball dropped Janet would think of some ridiculous promise she forced herself to keep, at least for a couple of weeks.  Quitting smoking, exercising more, and eating healthier were just to name a few.  She was tired of the yearly ritual and so was everyone around her.  It was going to be different this year.  She planned on making a resolution so great that she would have to die to break it.  It couldn’t be all that hard and besides, she still had three days to think of something. 
         She figured since she had plenty of time to come up with an original resolution, so she didn’t find herself at all that concerned that the last few days of 06’ were dwindling away.  Janet continued upon her dreary, daily routine.  She would wake up about noon, buy a pack of Camel Wide cigarettes and smoke them all while finishing up her weekly column for the Chaffee County Times.  The job paid fairly well, and she had always enjoyed having her opinions read by hundreds of people.  Janet always found herself to be quite opinionated.
         It was December 30th and her mind had yet to propose an idea that would work for her resolution.  Janet had just taken a seat, holding a notebook and a pen to jot down ideas with.  She made herself a cup of piping hot cider to help her think.  Just when she was getting into her brainstorming mode the phone rang.  For some reason or another, Janet could always tell who was calling, even though she didn’t have caller ID.  It must have been the certain tone of the ringing that gave the callers identity away.  She really didn’t like the way the phone sounded this time.
         “Hello?”
         “Where the hell is my article Janet?”
         It was her boss, and he didn’t sound happy.  She knew what was coming.  Janet was hoping that it would be over with as quickly and with as little pain as possible.
         “I’m almost finished sir.  There are just a couple of things that I need to touch up and I’ll have it to you by Wednesday.  I promise.”
         “Is it something that I want to put into my paper? The last few months my editor has been working on your screw-ups more then you have!”
         “I’m sorry sir, I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again“
         “You know what Janet, don’t bother.  I’m sick of your faults and I’m sick of you’re excuses.  I don’t want you anywhere around here anymore.  YOU’RE FIRED!”
         “Hello?  Hello!”
         The line was dead.  Janet collapsed onto the floor in tears.  That job was her whole life.  How was she to pay her bills now?  What was she going to do?  Her house would be repossessed before long.  Finally, Janet stopped crying and decided to work on her New Years Resolution.  For a long, long time her mind was a blank. 
                Her search would not be in vein.  Janet was consumed with the fantasy of a resolution that would better her as a person, yet still be obtainable.  She clawed at her eyes and ripped out her hair trying to think of something.  Finally, her mind constructed something so macabre that it sent her into a state of hysteria. 
“That can’t be my resolution” Janet wailed.
  “It, it’s just not possible.”
                Janet couldn’t convince herself otherwise.  As much as she denied it, this was going to be her final resolution.  She burst into tears and ran into her room and cried for hours. 
                Janet didn’t come out until 11:50.  For nine minutes Janet sat in the living room, staring blankly at the TV’s black screen.  When the time had finally come, Janet switched the TV on and found the channel broadcasting the dropping of the New Year’s ball.  The count down began.  Janet clenched her fists at five; she shut her eyes at three.  Then almost simultaneously the ball fell along with the firing pin.  In her left hand was a bloody .38 snub-nosed revolver.  In her right hand was a New Years noise maker.  On top of her head was a bright red party hat.  It was full of cerebral tissue and what is now left of her rotten and decrepit mind. 
© Copyright 2007 Jimmy Crack Corn (wallace_b at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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