Just Desert

“William, your dinner is ready,” (dialogue) Mary the maid calls through the house intercom. The Bitterman family resides in a glorious mansion filled with various expensive antiques and collector’s items. On every hour, the musical chimes of grandfather clocks ring throughout the entire estate. In the main foyer hangs a magnificent crystal chandelier that emits tiny rainbows upon the walls when stricken by the sunlight.
William, the youngest of the Bitterman children at thirteen years old, stands five feet tall exactly, and his dark, chestnut brown hair lays perfectly brushed to one side. At the sound of the maid’s voice through the intercom speaker in his room, he bolts down the stairs, through the wide, decorated corridors, and into the dining hall where Mary awaits him.
“Your dinner is ready,” she repeats.

“What is it this time?” demands the hungry boy. “It better be better than yesterday’s ground beef casserole. That literally looked like you scooped dirt from the garden and put it on my plate! It was disgusting! I swear I saw a worm.”

Mary, seemingly unaffected by the boy’s unkind and harsh words calmly replies, “I’m sorry sir, I thought I would try something new. I figured you were getting tired of the usual.”

“Yeah, well we’re not paying you to think and make crappy food, Mary. You are here to cook and clean and do our laundry and all that other stuff you people do.”

“Yes, sir, I understand. My apologies.”

“Good. So what did you make for me now, huh?”

Mary opens the silver covered tray and reveals a nice juicy steak accompanied by a side of fresh broccoli and a small piece of pumpkin pie. “I know how much you love pumpkin.” (foreshadow) She can tell that her cooked meal appeals to William by the way his malachite colored eyes sparkle and glaze over the perfectly grilled steak.

“Wow, your food might actually be edible this time,” the boy says mockingly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” mutters Mary, steadily growing more and more impatient.

William carefully cuts a bite-sized piece of steak and examines it thoroughly, giving it a nice sniff before finally putting it in his mouth. “It’s not as crappy I guess,” he says as he takes another bite. After a few more bites, he realizes that Mary still stands there watching him. “Why are you still here? Go away,” he says, waving her away with his hand. “Wash the dishes or something. I don’t want to eat with you staring at me like that.”

“Right away, sir,” Mary mumbles almost sarcastically as she heads towards the kitchen door. Here I am, working my ass of for this kid, and it’s like he doesn’t even appreciate it. I just made him a great dinner and did he thank me once? No! I don’t know how much more of this little brat I can take. If he keeps this attitude up, I will no doubt lose my mind and my job (internal dialogue) (zeugma). Mary, nearing the age of forty-five, has served the Bitterman family for over twenty years, much longer than William has been alive. Mary experienced no troubles in dealing with any of the other Bitterman children who have all moved out of the house. William is different than the rest of them. Ever since William acquired the ability to make his own decisions, he has made Mary’s life as their maid as miserable as he possible can and for no apparent reason.

Crash! The sound of breaking porcelain suddenly breaks the silence and resounds into Mary’s ears, and she rushes, almost panicked, to see what happened. Upon entering the dining room, she sees William standing at the edge of the table surrounded by broken pieces of porcelain. “What happened!” shrieked Mary.

“It slipped.”

“What slipped? Your plate?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you mean it slipped?” demanded Mary. “Did you drop it or something? Look at this mess – a mess that I’m gonna have to clean up!” She looks at the numerous pieces of his plate, shattered and scattered all over the hard wood floor, and bends to pick one of the pieces up. To her horror, she realizes that the broken plate was part one of William’s mother’s most expensive china sets. “Oh my God!” Mary cried. “Your mother is going to kill me! Why did it have to this plate?” She then looks over at William who stands, watching her, with a sort of smirk forming on his little lips. Now, Mary realizes that he dropped the plate on purpose, knowing that all the blame would be put on her. At this moment, Mary grasps how evil William truly is and wants nothing more than to have revenge over him and give him what he deserves, no matter the costs.

“Hey, is there any more pumpkin pie?

“Was the piece I gave you not enough already?”

“Well, I never even got to touch it. It fell on the floor when my plate ‘slipped,’ remember? See it’s right there.” He points to the ground at a pile of orange mush which used to be the pie.

“Oh, well I’m not sure if we have anymore.”

“Well I have an idea. Why don’t you go check then?”

“Fine!” replies Mary angrily as she heads back towards the kitchen. Suddenly, a small grin starts to form upon her face. “Now that I think about it, we don’t have anymore pie, but I can always make more if you want me to.”

“Yes! Make some more,” exclaimed William, oblivious to his upcoming surprise.

“Okay. This time though, I’m going to try a different recipe. I saw it in a cookbook called Minnie’s Fall Delights (allusion).”

“I don’t care. Just make it taste good.”

“Oh trust me. It’s going to be something like you’ve never tasted before.” As she enters the kitchen, she finds the perfect pumpkin with which to make the pie. She lowers the knife, and it grows even brighter (caption). The idea formed with the brilliance of an incandescent light bulb: revenge.