Life’s a Bitch, and Then You Die

a short story

Week 1

It was a lovely Tuesday morning in Boston – surprisingly so, considering the massive
amount of rainfall they had had for the past four days. It was a quarter past nine when a
young woman awoke from the peaceful journey she had embarked on just ten hours prior.
The sun had just poked its head through her brown velvet curtains, illuminating the room
just enough to inform the inhabitant that it was indeed time to arise. The brunette removed
her eye mask and blinked rapidly for a moment, her vision adjusting to the change of light.
In a swift motion, she flung the bed sheets and quilt from her body and began to climb out
of bed. To her displeasure, in her morning reverie, the bed sheets had entangled
themselves round her ankle and caused her to fall onto the hardwood floor. “Goddamn it.”
She flopped about and finally untangled herself from the satin shackles, a smile upon her
face. The woman opened the curtains, allowing the sunlight to brighten her bedroom
entirely, and proceeded to the washroom for a cock-crow shower. The warm and sensual
feeling she had experienced from the cleansing put a damper on any negative energy she
may have retained from falling out of bed. She didn’t realise until a moment later that her
telephone had been ringing. Yet again, she moved quickly as if in a panic and grabbed the
towel that hung over the shower door. Quickly wrapping herself in it, she stepped out of the
shower, but slipped and nearly slammed her head against the wall. “Sweet Jesus!” she
called out as she grabbed onto the nearby sink. Regaining her composure, she ran through
the apartment like a headless chicken, frantically searching for the telephone. Before she
could reach it, it stopped ringing and the answering machine got the call. “Hi, you’ve
reached Cassidy. Please leave a message.”

“Cassidy, honey, it’s your father. I know I promised I’d come visit you, since I haven’t seen
you since you moved out, but something’s come up at the office and I don’t think I’ll make
the flight. Perhaps another time? Be well.”

Cassidy growled. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

Week 2

Cassidy pulled up to the newspaper headquarters and set the alarm on her car.
Checking to make sure the doors were locked, she left her Volkswagen in its usual parking
spot and took the elevator up to the proper floor. This particular morning was like no other.
The elevator had smelt of rancid fish and onions for God knows why, and she nearly
vomited her breakfast all over the carpeted flooring. “Good Lord!” She tried to hold her
breath for as long as she could, occasionally breathing out of her mouth reluctantly, fearing
she would catch the odour on her tongue and taste the filth. She pondered who would be
eating such a meal at the bloody crack of dawn. ‘On second thought, I’m better off not
knowing,’ she thought to herself. As the elevator slowed to a halt on the seventh floor, she
nearly broke her neck trying to open the elevator doors manually, too impatient for them to
open on their own – she didn’t want to endure the stink any longer than absolutely
necessary. Cassidy thanked the Lord that she carried perfume in her purse as she sprayed
herself, ensuring that she didn’t reek of the elevator’s pong. The brunette arrived at her
desk and flung herself into the comfortable Italian chair, breathing in the clean oxygen that
circulated the office. Not a moment after getting situated, one of her co-workers dropped off
an envelope filled with paperwork. “What the Christ is this?”

“Alex wants these filled out and in London by morning,” he said, waiting for her witty
remark.

“Well, get him the broom from the supply closet – with the time difference, he’ll just make
it.” Suddenly, Cassidy heard a slight cough from behind and noticed her co-worker turn and
walk in the other direction. Reluctantly, she turned herself 180 degrees and swallowed hard
as she faced her boss, Alex. “Ah, this is awkward.”

Week 3

The scent, the sweat, the claustrophobia of the local game store was a nauseating
nuisance to have to endure. The small, tightly-packed room was getting increasingly
frustrating as proper elbow room and breathing space were lacking – one ought to fear that
they might perish from lack of oxygen. Cassidy chose the wrong day to look for a new title
to give a spin – it was the release date for a well anticipated title. Her first instinct upon
opening the front door of the establishment was to turn on her heel and return another day,
but she had driven four miles and was determined on getting what she had come for.
Squeezing her way through and giving the occasional two-worded gesture of politeness, she
finally reached the back of the store unharmed. It wasn’t until a moment later did she
realise that the games for her home console were on the wall parallel to that of which she
was standing. To her displeasure, the wall was being ravaged by men in baggy jeans and
overly long t-shirts. ‘Good Lord have mercy.’ Knowing she wasn’t going to get through alive,
she looked to the register desk and noticed one of the two employees hardly doing any
work. She waved him over, “Excuse me!” It was to no avail. She tried a second and a third
time, but he ignored her beckons. Finally getting fed up with the savagery and lacklustre
service, she pushed through the crowd of people and intentionally knocked over a rack of
video games, causing everyone to stop their horseplay and look in her direction. “Fuck this,
I’m going to Wal-Mart.”

Week 4

“Good God, I can’t believe that I have to have a flat tire just moments from my
dinner date this evening!” Cassidy swore over the phone to her best friend. “This nonsense
always happens at the worst of times.” She paced the apartment in her lovely purple
evening gown, her black heels making clacking sounds as they connected with the
hardwood floor.

“What about the taxi driver?” Her friend asked over the phone. “Is he not there yet?”

“Of course not. Just my luck. I ask them to send the nearest driver because of the urgency
and they probably sent the one clear across town!” Before she could continue her rant, the
sound of a horn was heard outside her apartment. “Praise Jesus, he’s here. I’ll speak to you
later.”

As the taxi pulled up to the restaurant, Cassidy paid the man and exited the vehicle. She
stood outside by a lovely potted plant and waited but a minute until she saw her date
appear across the street. She waved him over and smiled as he came her way. Suddenly,
the sound of screeching tires echoed the street, followed by a loud car horn. The gentlemen
she was meant to dine with was brutally struck by a black limousine. A passerby ran up to
him and checked for a pulse. “Good Lord, he’s dead!”

Cassidy immediately dropped her purse. “What the fuck?”