Deleted Scenes from Chaos

Kitchen Duties

Chaos punishment required her to have kitchen duties with Sunny and Tariq for two weeks. Here is a section I deleted because there was no real reason for it, but I had a fun time writing it!

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"Samantha, sweetheart, I need to run back to my house. Will you be okay by yourself?" drawled Sunny, concern tingeing her voice.

I gave her my best death stare.

Her hands flapped away my stare as if it meant nothing. "Oh, sorry darling, I forgot you don't need anyone's help, do you? Well, just so I feel better, Tariq is in the other room, so holler if you need him"

I continued to stare at her amping up its deathliness and Sunny continued to ignore it. "I won't be long!" she chirped and dashed out of the room, taking her happy deposition with her. Leaving me in peace and quiet, I had the ability to sulk in my dark and twisted mood, the ability to mope with my tortured soul, according to Sunny.

I laughed and turn back to the dishes I was washing. I upended the bottle of dish soap, but nothing came out. I tossed the plate back into the sink causing water to slosh out of the tub and onto the floor. Annoyed, I grabbed the roll of paper towels and unraveled and ungodly amount. Not putting any effort into it, I haphazardly threw them and left the paper towels on top of the spill.

I walked over to the supply cabinet to grab another bottle of soap. At first, all that I saw were shelf upon shelf of sponges, mops, paper towels, and other kitchen supplies. I saw everything except the dish soap. I went to go complain to Tariq, when I spotted the only bottle of dish soap. On the top shelf and shoved all the way back in the corner. Lovely.

I stalked back into the kitchen and grab a stool out from under the island. With a pissed off "this better work," I placed the stool in front of the soap. I climbed on top of the stool, only to realize I was about two feet short of the shelf. I growled.

Tariq's voice filtered into the supply cabinet. "Are you okay in there? I haven't heard a noise in awhile."

In a voice dripping with sweetness, I yelled back "Everything is dandy! Don't you worry about a thing!" Tariq hesitated, but then grunted a noncommittal, "Okay."

I muttered, "Everything is dandy, my ass." My left hand clutched onto the shelf above my head and my right foot stood on the back of the stool. I levered myself up, just reaching eyelevel with the soap. I snagged the bottle with my free hand when I heard an ominous groaning sound. The stool slid out from under my foot, leaving me to dangle in the air. I closed my eyes and counted to three before I allowed myself to fall. With 20% skill and 80% luck on my side, I landed the fall on both feet. I smiled like a cat who just received her cream.

I walked over to the skin and unwrapped the plastic sealing. With a deft toss, the plastic landed into the trashcan. I flicked the lid open with my thumb and upended the new bottle of dish soap. Yet again nothing came out. Learning my lesson last time, I gently laid the plate back into the sink. I contemplated the bottle, wondering why the clear liquid wasn't pouring out.

I tried to pour the liquid once again, but nothing dribbled out of the opening. Agitated and royally pissed off, I spun on my heels, almost tripping myself on the soaked paper towels. I yanked open the drawers attached to the counter, not satisfied until I found the drawer containing the sharp knives. I pulled out the butcher knife. I slowly turned around and stared at the soap bottle.

In a creepily voice I chuckled, "Bottle, you have meet your maker." I glided over towards the sink. I placed my hand and the knife on the bottle. Like a golf player, I slowly pulled the knife back and slowly swung it forward, stopping just before I touched the bottle. I repeated the motion twice. Then on the third time, I pulled the knife all the way back, with a demented laugh. In a little squeaky voice I said, "No please! Anything but the KNIFE!" and swung the blade down and into the bottle... and part of my hand.

I watched in amazement as the soapy liquid seeped from the bottle and flowed in a steady stream down the bottle. The liquid was tinted red with my blood flowing down my hand and the bottle. I went to remove the knife and as soon as I touched it, I felt searing pain. It felt like tiny shockwaves starting from the little "v" of skin in between my thumb and my index finger all the way down to my elbow and back again.

In a strained voice, I called out to Tariq. "Uh, Tariq?"

His soft voice filled with apprehension said my name, "Samantha?"

"Do you know where Doctor Monto is?"