Unholy Trinity: Bullies by Alan Moskowitz
Our church worships at the altar of the Unholy Trinity. Its gospels are delivered as a trio of dark drabbles, linked so that Three become One. All hail the power of the Three.
Customer Service
The cashier called, “Next” and as I stepped forward the woman behind me moved ahead of me.
“Hey! I’m next!”
The cashier, a privileged self-absorbed teenager no doubt, ignored me as she rang up the woman’s items.
“I’m talking to you missy!” No response.
I raised my voice, “I want to see your manager! I’ll make sure you’re fired!” Still she ignored me.
“Answer me or I’ll call the cops! I’ll sue!” Nothing.
I screamed, “You dumb kid! What are you, deaf? Or just brain-dead?”
The cashier called, “Next!” The man behind me moved through me.
“Hey. I was next!”
Bully
Jake came home late, smelling of beer, perfume and sweat – again. Clara was waiting, carelessly cradling his treasured shotgun.
Before he could start cursing she loudly recited in a guttural imitation, “Why can’t you look like your sister-in-law? If you lost weight you wouldn’t sweat like a pig. If I cheat on you, it’s your fault!”
She chambered a shell – clack.
He turned pale, “I don’t mean those things. I love you.”
She smiled good-naturedly, “Careful with my gun, everyone knows you’re so clumsy you could blow your own stupid brains out.”
Boom!
Jake’s passing was declared accidental.
A Day in the Park
Danny tossed the Frisby and Daisy, his Chihuahua, scampered after it.
Tim, Danny’s ninth-grade nemesis walking his Cane Corso, Thanos, called out, “You call that tiny thing a real dog?” Danny declared, “Daisy’s real, and special. She can do special things.”
“Yeah? Can she pick you up?” Tim shoved Danny to the ground. Daisy barked angrily. “Ooh. I’m scared!” Tim mocked.
Daisy made eye contact with Thanos. Thanos shook his head, then snarled. “Your dog’s dead meat,” Tim gloated. Thanos suddenly lunged at Tim, eyes red with fury, fangs bared.
Tim ran screaming from the park.
“Told you she’s special.”
Alan Moskowitz
Recently un-retired from screen and TV writing, Alan also creates short genre fiction for fun and sanity. He loves feedback.
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Originally from New Orleans, Shalini Bethala grew up with a love for the hauntingly beautiful stories, ideas and folklore that were enmeshed with the city. She also developed a deep love for words and a well-told story. Anytime those two can marry, she’s there for it. She loves stories that lure, that haunt, that pull at heartstrings or that wrap one up in fear, anxious to know what’s going to happen next.
Shalini is a screenwriter, poet and essayist, and her work explores themes of intersectionality, belonging and the experiences of immigrant and first generation people. She is also an entertainment and media attorney. When she’s not working or volunteering, she can be found at the gym, out in nature, or in whatever greenery Brooklyn has to offer. If she’s nowhere to be found in NYC, then she’s likely back in her hometown, soaking up the warmth, enjoying the quiet and keeping an ear open for any dark secrets the swamp has to offer.
You can follow her on LinkedIn, Twitter, or Instagram or follow her poetry curation @ShaliniLovesPoetry.
