For the fifth time this shift, Betty Jean knocked on Room 12, back of the building, far from the freeway. Do Not Disturb dangled from the doorknob, but it was near seven o’clock in the evening and the room hadn’t been cleaned yet. Ominous, was that the word people use?
Gloria, motel manager on night shift, said Betty Jean couldn’t go home until she finished up Room 12 in case they needed it for tonight.
Her hand shook as she pulled the passkey from her pocket and snaked it into the handle, her tongue slipping inside Billy Ray’s lips was how she always thought of it.
Then, all at once – “Surprise!” – the motel staff, her brother, her best friends, Billy Ray and a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon welcomed Betty Jean into Room 12 for her twenty-first birthday.
We’ve had so many light stories that turned dark at the end, I thought it was time to try a reversal. I don’t think it works as well, but Betty Jean is probably happy with the results.
Today’s six-sentence story was brought to you by Hemingway who created the six-word story. And by Hallmark, when you care enough to send the very best. And by Hawaiian Punch, Hey, how about a nice Hawaiian Punch? And by Huggies, we’re behind you every step of the way.
Tomorrow, thank goodness, we get a day off. Come back Monday for the letter “I.”