#FridayFlash: I Quit

I had a crisis of confidence with the flash I was going to post, and didn’t remember I had this one until afternoon. It’s not any kind of “sign-off” — except that with impending vacation where I won’t have much Internet access, I probably won’t post (or read much) next Friday.

Anyway, this story was based on a writing prompt from Ian O’Neill. I’ve snatched a copy of the photo for the sake of convenience.

---

Pat sat on the toilet, smoking a cigarette. He had the door locked, the window open, and the exhaust fan going — maybe Becca wouldn't catch him in the act again. He really wanted to quit, but it was so hard.

He sighed and shook his head, taking a final drag. He opened his legs and dropped the butt into the bowl.

The toilet exploded.

He found himself in the corner. The ringing in his ears gave way to a frantic pounding noise. “Pat! What happened? Are you okay?” He shook his head, trying to clear it as Becca stopped pounding at the door, probably running to get the key. He looked at pieces of the shattered toilet for a moment, then winced at a dark smear across the tile floor. That stupid statuette she’d bought was lying nearby, spattered with more crap but otherwise intact.

He pushed himself up against the wall and stood shaking, bent over from the pain in his legs and in between. I quit.