The following was inspired by a recent post by xenonlit xl, and is limited to 101 words per a recent open call, and per the number of brain cells I have functioning lately. Link to Zuma . . . er . . . xenonlit's recent bit of brilliance is in the final phrase.
Determined not to reveal any sign that his tirade has had effect, she stands and walks to the ladies room, the sudden hush closing behind her.
Leaning toward the mirror, she runs a manicured finger over each eyebrow, then lips.
Loudly laughing women approach the outer door; she furtively enters a stall, door latched.
She replays the cycle, his voice louder/face redder each time the waiter returns with a fresh dish and apologies.
She caresses the cool barrel as she pulls it from her purse. She inhales the distinctive scent of the business end.
The words write themselves:
Fuck Your Salt!
UPDATE:
Incidentally, feel free to think of this as an "Open Call" - Solve the Great Salt Mystery. I don't have time to aggregate results, but this was a lot of fun to write . . .


Salon.com
Comments
Chuck - you'd have to ask him ;~)
Elisa - LOL . . . you're too kind.
ann1liese - Happy to oblige!
Trudge - Thanks, man.
BTW, I wasn't the dude (go back to Xeonlit's poem and read my comment).
R
xenonlit xl - Couldn't have done it without you.
Buffy - It's a little bit fun, I think.
Those saltfuckers! LOL! This is excellent. Well done.
'Bout bloody time, too, Owl.
Have I mentioned lately how much I don't like men?
(Made me think of Aerosmith for a moment.)
What sodium does to you...
You don't write that often, but when you do, holy cow, woman, you take no prisoners...
Y Heron - I have to admit, I suprised myself with this one.
vanessa - I gotta give Xenonlit credit as the muse . . . just needed a creative spark or something. And thank you, kind lady . . . ::bowing in namaste gesture::
Was beginning to give up on your 101 post!
Replacing the gun with the pen leaves lots of room for anticipation and for the story to move forward too. Maybe even more so. Just think of the graffiti!
Rated.
Harry - I'm thinking about adopting "Fuck Your Salt" as a mantra for no other reason than perpetuating the mystery.
littlewillie - Just trying to "Push It"
Scarlett - I don't think daft, not by a long shot. Just one of those moments, for me, where I couldn't tell if I was clear enough. After reading the comments, though, I'm kind of enjoying the ambiguity - different readers seeing it different ways.
Thoth - True. Not all salt is bad, but "she" seems to think so, at least at this moment.
ladyfarmerjed - I'm glad you enjoyed it! It was fun to write, too.
geezerchick - Actually, as related to Zuma's piece, I was envisioning it as a magic marker, but I'm having fun now seeing how people interpret it! That dinner partner thing . . . very interesting!
You.wrote.so.well...I.can.still.see.her.in.the.stall
I.can.smell.the.gun.
I.love.this:"the.business.end"
more...
it's.a.pen
even.better.
And.the.man's.life.is.spared.in.this.scenario,lol
Kathy - It's a bit of fun, no?
Risa - It's been great seeing how different people perceive it, with or without Zuma's piece. And it was fun to write.
She replays the cycle, his voice louder/face redder each time the waiter returns with a fresh dish and apologies."
Also want to thank you in a roundabout way for your great, detailed well thought-out comment on my blog. Love the poem too. Boy, that's some serious business, that Emily Dickinson. Read it several times.
Thank you.