M. Suzanne Terry

[Microfiction is any story told in 300 words or less, by many definitions. I suppose “micro” is in the eye of the writer/reader.]

I didn’t mean to do it. Not really. But there it was – the incriminating welt on Gerald’s head as he was loaded into the ambulance – so I couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen.

It all started on the day of the first accident. Stephi broke her ankle two days before the season began, so I had about a minute to take over as captain of the golf team. Our name – the Bedford Bettys – was a little outdated, so our first order of business was to come up with a new one. Thinking “A” was a good grade and a hole in one was the best thing that could happen on the course, I suggested “A-holes.” There were snickers all around, but I figured they just thought I was clever.

Gosh, was I wrong.

Gerald, captain of the guys’ team, was the first to congratulate us on our new name. He walked up and interrupted our conversation, “Sorry to butt in, ladies, but I can’t wait to see you wipe the green with your opponents in your first tournament.”

Laurel rolled her eyes and told him not to be a jerk. Naively, I jumped to his defense, which made him laugh and say, “Yeah, Laurel. Don’t be an a-hole.”

I saw my mistake, but it was too late. The shirts had already been printed.

The torment continued the rest of the week. By the time the tournament rolled around, I had had it. Right there in the parking lot, I dropped a ball, took my 9-iron, and let it fly. The next thing I knew, Gerald was on the ground moaning.

It was a pretty good shot, all things considered.

I’m writing 31 stories during October. Click to see the master list.