Fiction
No Vacancy
A short story with dubious motives
“What is this?”
She showed me a wadded up roll of something. Pastel shapes on it — were they puppies?
I shrugged, muttered “I don’t know,” then turned to stuff my pajama pants into the top drawer of the unfamiliar dresser.
“Did you pack these?” she asked.
She hadn’t moved, except now she had wadded rolls in both her hands.
“Uh…maybe?” I now sensed an unpleasant odor in the room. Maybe housekeeping had not arrived prior to our check in?
“You were in charge of the backpack,” she said, taking a step toward me. “I never looked inside. I trusted you to pack everything.”
“Right,” I agreed. The odor emanated from those rolls in her hands.
“Why did you pack diapers?” she asked. “Used. Diapers.”
Oh yeah. Those. I guess she’d only found the first two.
“Huh,” I said. “That’s weird.” Should my socks go in the same drawer as pajamas or —
“Jeffrey!”
I faced her again and this time she shoved the diapers inches from my face.
“What is this?” she shouted.
“I think you’re right,” I said. “Those are totally diapers.”
She was now shaking with rage.
“What the actual fuck, Jeffrey?”
Boom.
“Gotcha!” I shouted back at her. “You said ‘fuck.’ Ha! I knew I could get you to say it. Now you owe me twenty bucks, little miss sugar mouth!”
She launched the diapers at my head.
Guess I knocked her off her high horse. Wonder if she’s ever coming back?
