If I were to write a response to today’s one word prompt—FRANTIC— it would be one of the three below. However, I am on my way out to begin a hectic day of activities. So, I will leave you with three possibilities. If I were to write one at a later date, which would you prefer.
The bus driver heard my frantic screams to hold the bus. Still, I heard the dreaded whirring of the automatic doors closing from a quarter block away. He always came a couple of minutes early. Sadistic bastard! Like Steve Martin’s character, Dentist Orin Scrivello in Little Shop of Horrors, the driver got off on making riders miss his bus. But I had a plan.
The office elevator wasn’t the place for a supervisor to shriek frantically, so I tried to maintain a professional façade. Inside my seeming calm, however, desperation was begging to spring free. Would someone—anyone—unstick this damn contraption? It wasn’t your usual musical model, but the clanky, old fashioned, do it yourself elevator in the back of the building. I used it because it was private and I was anti-social.
We had given our dog, Lexi, a real meat bone. We never did this, and she assumed it was a mistake. Now, she charged around the kitchen and dining room in a mad circle, frantically seeking a place to hide it, ‘less we realize our mistake. Bull-in-a-china shop would be an adequate description as she was knocking down anything and anybody in her way.