Writing Prompts

Anyone can play!

Take two people who dislike each other and stick them in the backseat of a cab. What happens?

Amy Larsen, an ad exec, ran out of her apartment building to catch a taxi for a work. She was already late. On the phone for the last hour with that awful Brad Adams. He had some nerve to call her on her off hours and scold her for leaving the printer cartridge empty at work. Oh, please! Who hasn't done that at least once.

He was looking for a reason to rile her up this morning.

Amy waved her arm as she approached the street. Today was an important day, she hated being late. As she reached the curb, thunder rolled in the distance. Oh, great, if she didn't hail a cab now she'd be soaked. Umbrellas, that's what her always prepared mother would of told her to get before she left the house. But excuse her, there are some people in the world who are not perfect.

A cab pulled to the curb as rain descended upon her with a gust of wind. Her flimsy skirt swirled around her
legs as she opened the door, rising slightly above her knees. What else could happen to her today?

"Where to, lady?" the cabbie asked.

"227 Madison Avenue," she said as she straightened herself, and then slammed the door.

"Do y'all work together or something?" the cabbie asked looking into his rear view mirror at her.

Amy turned to her left. Never asked what else could go wrong unless your prepared for the absolute worst!

Mister Brad Adams shared the cab with her.

"I thought you were already at work from the sound of your complaint," she said.

"I was for awhile," he smiled. "Until I had to leave to go to the office supply store for ink cartridges."

"I assume you've already bought them?"

"Nope," he said. "We had to slow down for you."

"Mister," she called to the cabbie. "Please drop me off first. I'm in a terrible hurry."

"Sorry, lady," he motioned to Brad. "He was here first. I have to drop him off and wait for him."

"No!" she shouted. "I needed to be at work like a ten minutes ago."

Brad leaned back with his smug grin and hummed. "Driver," he said. "Take your time."

"Yes, sir."

Her heart pounded. How could anyone be so cruel? They'd always been at each others throats, but never had

they'd pulled such a low-down, dirty ploy. She searched her brain to try and remember if she'd ever done

anything to offend him. Nothing. Notda.

"What have I ever done to you?" she punched him in the shoulder.

"Whoa!" he rubbed his upper arm. "What are you talking about?"

"You are purposefully sabotaging my presentation!" she beat him with her purse.

"Stop!" he yelled. "Are you crazy?"

"Admit it, now!" she hit harder, hoping her bottle of cologne pummeled him like a brick.

"Driver," he yelled. "Go directly to 227 Madison Avenue."

"Thank you," she said, pulling herself together. "That's more like it."

"It's your tough luck," he straightened his expensive suit. "You're the one who'll regret it."

What on earth was he talking about now? She smoothed her hair and asked, "What do you mean?"

"If you would of only asked," he turned his head toward the window. "I would've told you that Jack spilled his coffee on all your graphs this morning," he ran his fingers through his messed hair. "I tried to print more off for you, but we were out of ink cartridges. I thought you'd want all your props before you went in for the meeting. But I guess I was wrong."

Now she felt like the scum on the bottom of a stagnant pond. She was sure he was trying to get her fired. This had to be the worst day ever. How would she ever be able to say sorry to him? Words couldn't express her anguish. She reached for his hand, which laid on his dark blue trousers. With both hands, she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, the blond hairs on the top of his hand swayed with each breath of her words.

"Driver," he called.

"I know," the cabbie said. "Go to the office supply store."