I'm not sure I can call this a story. It's really just a portion of an argument, but this is what came out of me when I read the words for Jeffrey Hollar's Monday Mixer (150 words exactly using at least three of the nine words, one in each category - I've used all nine (go over-achiever me!)).
I can tell you I was extraordinarily mad at the time I wrote it. I had just read a part of a story where a character did something awful to a character I adored for no good reason and I was livid. I wanted said character to die a horrible death. I wanted to rip the book up and throw it across the room (but seeing as it was on my computer, that would have been difficult). And I didn't have the rest of the story, as the excerpt ended on that scene...which only exacerbated the problem.
Anyway, I guess this is the type of thing that comes out of me when I'm really angry. It amuses me now. Enjoy!
“Your peculation is the reason you’re in this mess! There you were, swanking around and rubbing the fact that you stole their money in their faces. You’ve caused a schism - not your side against ours, but two sides fighting about what to do with you. I’ll also posit that your draconian leadership hasn’t garnered you many friends because there’s no one arguing for you. This organization is supposed to be sportive and you’ve turned it into a competitive, backbiting mess! What do you have to say for yourself?”
“It’s not my fault! Jimmy said-”
“I don’t want to hear excuses! Let me play a mawkish tune for you while you cry over a gallon of milk you dumped on your own head!”
“But it’s not like I meant to hurt anyone!”
“Oh, go drink a slurry of kool-aid mixed with the crushed bones of those you’ve walked all over.”