Writin' Stuff: A Mild Headache

It's only been over three years since I last wrote anything here! Whatever. I'm doing it again...

I will ostensibly be writing stuff frequently from here on out. Mostly fiction, unless inspiration otherwise strikes. It's a sort of self-imposed challenge imposed by a friend who is also self-imposing the challenge on himself through me. We originally intended it to be a daily thing, but at this point it's more likely to be a weekly thing. We'll see how it goes. Mostly, I enjoy writing, but I never do it. So I suck. This is an excuse to GET BETTER. Here's the first thing I've written. The prompt was "headaches". Hurray!

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"Yo, check it, man."

Will checked it. "All right. You've got a... some kind of a gun?"

"A gun?! Wha— Well, I guess sorta. Just watch!" Dr. Sarah von de McGee sipped her piping hot caramel mocha and grabbed the gun (or, well, sorta gun) from Will. She pointed it at a woman sitting a few tables over, enjoying her cup of tea.

Will freaked out, naturally. "Whoa, stop!" he whispered furiously.

She pulled the trigger anyway. "See that?"

"..."

"Did! You! See! That!"

"..."

"Oi, Willy, pal, buddy?"

"Nothing happened, Sarah."

"Nothing? NOTHING! Just watch."

"..." Will watched.

"Yes. Watch." Sarah approved.

"..." The woman cradled her tea, reading the latest in whatever popular book series.

"..." The woman scratched her nose.

"..." The woman readjusted her orientation and position on the chair.

"Yesss. There she goes!" The woman started rubbing her temples, oh so gently.

"Okay," Will said. "What."

"Oh! Oh! We've got a winner!" Sarah was on the edge of her seat. She fell out of her seat.

Will reached out to help his friend back up, but she swatted his hand away, still staring at the woman with the tea. Will, giving in, stared again. The woman was now rummaging through her purse. She found her prize, extracted it, and popped a couple pills of what appeared to be aspirin before returning to reading her book and drinking her tea.

Will was incredulous. "That's it?"

Sarah, still on the floor, now cross-legged, composed herself, reached up for her coffee, sipped it, and inflicted upon Will the most pity-filled expression he had ever seen. "Oh, Will," she sighed. "Oh, poor, sad Will. Don't you see?" Another sip with one hand, fondling the gun with the other. "I'll make SO MUCH MONEY!!" She shouted that last bit.

Everyone in the room stared at Sarah, suddenly worried for their own safety. Except Will, of course, who, long accustomed to Sarah's sudden outbursts, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her outside. She let herself be dragged. Once outside, she stood up and drank more coffee. "Had your fill of the ol' Vondy McGee?" She waggled her eyebrows.

Will grumbled, "Is this a new thing, referring to yourself in the third person?"

Confusion illuminated Sarah's face. "No, no, that's the name of—" She held out her gun, which Will now realized was one of those annoying children's toys - the ones that make a different ear-piercing noise at every pull of the trigger - gutted, repurposed, and painted black.

"Ah," Will yawned. "Well, I'm certainly impressed that you finally managed to make something tangible after months of boasting your skills." If it even did work. "But I've got stuff to do. Good luck making money or... whatever."

Sarah grinned. "Sounds good, Willy! Peace you LATER." Plans, plans, plans. Sarah had a lot of those. Time to act!

Will walked in one direction. Sarah walked in the same direction. Will rolled his eyes. Sarah showed no reaction, refusing to acknowledge the ages-old socially awkward send-off-and-walk-in-the-same-direction situation. Will turned down his street, heading home. Sarah followed. Will opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it. Sarah continued not reacting. Will walked up the stairs to his apartment building. Sarah followed. Will stopped, turned.

"Uh, Sarah?"

"Willy! 'Sup?"

"Why are you following me?"

Sarah did her best to smother her face in offense. "I have a meeting in this building. I would never follow you! Buuuut I will need you to let me in. Thanks, pal!"

Will knew Sarah didn't have a meeting — at least, not a mutually known meeting. But he also knew Sarah was largely harmless, so went ahead and let her in. Finally, upon entering the building, they went their separate ways. "Ta!" Sarah said to Will's back.

——

"H-How did you even find where I live?" The man was worried. This strange woman didn't seem particularly dangerous, yet, but she did seem crazy. Crazy can turn dangerous fast. The man had a natural distaste for crazy.

"I knows people what knows people!" Sarah waggled her eyebrows, twice as fast as a normal human being could manage. Disconcerting.

The man continued to worry. She apparently knew he managed a local pharmacy, and she had tracked him to his home and forced her way inside. She clearly wanted drugs. But she should know he didn't keep drugs in his home! Unfortunately, crazy people aren't known for being logical.

"Ah, don't get yer panties in an uproar, pal," she grinned, reaching into her jacket.

"That's completely unnecessary!" the man trembled.

"I'm afraid it ain't. Unnecessary, that is." Sarah pointed the gun at the man, totally unaware of the implications of pointing the gun at the man. "You know what this is? Of course you don't!" She waved it around a little. "This is the Vondy McGee," she whispered solemnly. "And it's gonna make you and me super rich, man."

"The Vondy what now?" The man's worry had become terror, and in his terror he forgot that you're not supposed to question the crazy person with the gun pointed at you.

"Vondy! McGee!" She thrust the gun further in his direction. "This thing'll give anyone ya point it at a mildly annoying headache in mere minutes! Imagine what we could—"

"Wait, what? Headaches?" The man took a closer look at the gun. "Wait." He saw that it was one of those dumb noisemaker toys. "What?" Terror shot backwards past worry and did a pirouette into anger. "Headaches?!"

"Yeah, dude! You take this bad boy to your higher-ups, they build a whole factory to make 'em in large quantities, we, I dunno, install 'em next to your pharmacies or wherever and we cause so many headaches you ain't never gonna STOP selling that sweet, sweet nectar we all call aspirin!"

Blank stares from the man. Then, a noise: "Hnghk."

"Dude, you all right?" Sarah moved her face to look at the man's face.

The man stared some more. Another noise, this time longer, more meaningful, and followed by other meaningful noises that, when produced in a specific order — the order this man employed — reduced Sarah to a dejected mess, bitter at the loss of a potential business partner. Clearly he was blind to the potential of the VMG! In an act of petty and mostly ineffectual revenge, she pulled the trigger in his general direction and stormed out of the apartment building. Minutes later, the man was surprised to find that he actually did have a headache. Surprise, of course, waned as he realized that he just dealt with a crazy woman. Of course his head ached.

It was now raining outside. Sarah loved the rain! Her latest invention did not. It got wet.

——

AN EDIT: A friend suggested the story best ends here! I agree. The following is the original ending, which I never liked anyway.

A small child found one of those fun, futuristic noisemaker guns sticking out of a storm drain. How exciting! Someone had painted it black, but it was mostly washed off now. The child pointed it at a man coming out of the building across the street and pulled the trigger. When the toy made no noise, the child threw it into the street in anger. A car ran over it. The child walked away. Minutes later, the man's head exploded.