The Confrontation

Daydreaming on your way to work, you get into a car accident. Frustrated because you will be late for an important meeting, you curse and yell as you get out of the car. When you go to confront the other drive, you find out it is your boss. Write this scene.

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357 thoughts on “The Confrontation

  1. nickava16

    I was late. Then again, I was always late to everything. I was talking to the boss of Stark Enterprises, Tony Stark himself. I was applying for a job as chief engineer of his Mark II suits. My call had just gone through.
    “Hey Tony, I think I might be a few minutes late.”
    “No problem Jason, I might be late myself.”
    I then realized I was lost. I couldn’t see the Stark Building anywhere.
    “Dude, I think I’m lost.”
    “Where are you?”
    “I’m at the Intersection of 6th and Commonwealth, right next to a beautiful church,” I said.
    “I’m right around there too,” Tony said. “You need to turn around and head in the opposite way for a few miles.”
    As I turned my car around, still daydreaming about meeting Tony Stark, another car smashed into mine. My car caught on fire and was flung another 50 yards down the road, setting another three alight and damaging 2 additional ones.
    I screamed at the top of my lungs because I would never make it to the building in time. I opened my door to scream and cuss at the person that had hit me.
    “What the heck were you doing…”
    I trailed off, realizing I had collided with Tony Stark, damaging his new hot red Corvette. His car seemed relatively undamaged, where as mine exploded behind me, sending fire trucks and ambulances screaming towards the smoldering wreck.

  2. Teelacatgirl

    It started like a normal day. Nothing bad, nothing good. The kind of day that makes you think of better days. Usually that thinking happens in the car. I was paying attention! I really was! Kinda. Anyways, I was thinking about the time I had eaten a whole bar of chocolate while watching AFV, when a car suddenly stopped in front of me! I slammed on the brakes, but still ended up ramming into the back of the car. I realized this would mean I’d be late for my job interview. A started swearing and got out of the car. Uhg! I thought. What am I going to tell Mr. Hatchfeild now? Oh! What luck! He’s right here- wait, WHAT? I stared in horror as my could-be boss got out of his rammed-up car.
    “What is the meaning of this?” He said.
    “Uh- I-“ I spluttered.
    “Wait, don’t I know you?”
    “No! I mean, I don’t think so…”
    “Wait, you’re the girl who was supposed to be trying out for the job today!”
    I froze. This was bad. Very bad. I started spewing out apologies.
    “I’m sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going! You stopped to fast! I’m sorry!”
    “You’d better be, since there’s no chance of landing that job for you anymore.”
    I wanted a huge hole to open and swallow me up. Take me to Russia. Or Munchkinland. I took out my wallet.
    “How much do I owe you?”
    “About $300.”
    “WHAT?!” I yelled. “HOW WILL I GET $300?!”
    “You should of thought of that before hand.”
    “Before hand? How would I have known this would of happened! It wasn’t on purpose!”
    Hatchfeild just glared at me. I glared back. He grunted, and walked back to his car. He started the engine and drove of. I found myself wishing his car was broken. The engine smashed. Then maybe he’d be late for a wedding or something. His OWN wedding! Then maybe his bride would be so mad at him. She’d cancel the wedding and have him banished to Alaska! Yes that would teach him… HONK!
    ‘Hey! Lady! Get out of the intersection!”
    I sighed I got in my car and tried to start up the engine. Nothing happened. I tried again. Still nothing. I realized I was stuck. Face red with embarrassment, I got out of the car. I went to the back and started pushing. People stared at me as I tried to shove my car to the side. I was pushing with all my might. Then it started to roll downhill. I watch, helpless, as my car rolled down the road and into a ditch. I stared at it for a few seconds, then stuck my hand out and yelled:

  3. Doug Langille


    Agent Justin Cayse left the bordello from the rear, having escaped his captor. Ava Longleggs, always the most generous of hosts, enjoyed Mister Cayse’s visits immensely, often more than once. To be sure, the restraints were optional.

    “Do come again, Justin,” she said as she played with a lock of her auburn hair.

    He winked at her. “I always do, babe. I always do.”

    A sizable shadow appeared behind her as the master spy rounded the corner.

    “Want me to follow him, Mistress?”

    Ava turned around, reached up and patted the cheek of her trusty henchman.

    “Not yet, Tiny.” She nodded down the alley. “He’ll find his way back. Well, if my math is right anyway.”

    Tiny snickered and the two went inside.

    A few blocks away, Justin let the dawn breeze cool him as he sped down the boulevard in his open-topped Roadster. All told, it measured as a fruitful evening in service of The Public Good. Sector long suspected the lovely Ms. Ava of peddling more than bodies and blow. Three of their best agents found themselves on the wrong side of the harbor. In a mere handful of hours, Justin achieved more than Sector had in two years.

    He’d been cooling his heels at the tables in Nice when he got the call from Control herself. Probationary reinstatement. Short-stacked and bored, he readily accepted the assignment. After all, he was a ‘Man of Action’.

    Now, cruising away from the seedy red-light lair of Ms. Longleggs to the gaining light of his hotel by the sea, Justin relaxed. Sector would have to await his report.

    Morning traffic forced him to slow to a crawl. The air turned warm as the sun rose. Justin unbuttoned the top buttons of his silk shirt, but it didn’t help. His vision blurred and his hands trembled. When his tongue thickened and the nausea hit, he understood.

    The crazy bitch drugged me! He wheeled the car around in his trippy haze. Justin’s body slammed into the steering wheel as the Roadster came to a sudden stop in the rear of a Jaguar.

    The first thought flashing through his addled mind was of remorse for the damage of two fine automobiles. The second was that he recognized the Jag immediately.

    A few hours later, Justin sat alone in a familiar office awaiting judgement. The Narcan did its job easing his symptoms, but the jittering remained. This was more message than lethal intent.

    “Good day, Mister Cayse,” came a stern voice. The woman behind it closed her heavy door audibly yet restrained.

    “A fine day it is, Control,” said Justin.

    His boss strode to her side of the desk, smoothed her skirt and sat down. He’d always admired her features, but admonished himself for the thought. Some women were off-limits. Not many, but some. The fun always lay in the chase.

    “That’s your third car in eighteen months, Justin. Half of that you were on vacation.” She peered over the top of her thick-rimmed black spectacles with convincing disdain.

    Justin, a veteran target of Control’s lectures, could barely suppress a grin. “And a fine vacation it was, ma’am.”

    She frowned, irritated at his jocularity. “I wouldn’t recommend that.”

    He stood and walked over to the sidebar and selected a single-malt. “What’s that? Crashing into your car? Agreed.” He lifted the bottle with reverence. “Balvenie? Nice.”

    “No, your insurance graciously picked up the tab for the Jag. But calling me ma’am is ill-advised.”

    He played the submissive. “Yes, Control.”

    She opened the dossier on her desk and made a clicking sound with her tongue and teeth as she read. “Blood alcohol of 1.6 and enough opiate to fell an elephant. Really, Justin, I know not whether to be angry at your flagrant disregard to protocol or be impressed with your constitution.” She looked up. “Pour me one as well. Neat.”

    Justin poured two tumblers and waited. “We could always split the difference.”

    Control came around her desk, half-sat on the edge and accepted the glass. “How so? Did Longleggs give anything up?” she asked as she sipped the silky liquor.

    He appreciated the distraction of well-toned legs. Was that a blush? Interesting. He continued. “Certainly. I managed to extract some key intelligence as well.”

    “Do go on,” she said, rapping her manicured nails against the side of her drink.

    Justin reached in his breast pocket for a thumb drive and handed it to her. She regarded it in her palm thoughtfully and closed her hand.

    “The raw audio record from all the suites are here. All the wifi mics downloaded fine. I gave it a quick listen. Pillow talk, even with overpriced whores, is a marvelous thing. The connection with Ava’s organization, Bristol Corp and the German government: all confirmed, as is the Canadian security breech.” He paused to let it soak in. Things didn’t bode well and they both knew it.

    Control lost her appetite for libation, placed her glass on the desk behind her and folder her arms. “Damned Canadians.”

    “They had help,” Justin said and continued to savor his drink. He watched her demeanor change. Hands palming her hips then arms crossed again, speaking volumes.

    “What? Help from whom?”

    “I’m getting to that.” He liked her but never trusted her. It was an interesting turn for Control to be vulnerable.

    A wrinkle crossed her brow as she worked it through. “So why were you back at Ava’s if you already had the data?”

    “Glad you asked, Control. Glad you asked. Tell me, do you have many secrets?”

    Fidgeting again. “Of course not!” she said.

    “Interesting. You might want to review file 87-Alpha. It doesn’t appear in the copy I submitted for evidence. Only this copy and the original. Gambling is a terrible vice. How deep are you?”

    Her eyes grew wide and fiery at the accusation. “I’m not–”

    Justin waved her quiet and pressed “How deep?”

    “350,000.” The truth of things exposed, Control reached for her drink and brought it to her lips.

    He stopped her hand and bent to meet her eyes. “Dollars?”

    “No, pounds,” she said, shrugged him off and emptied the glass without so much as a wince.

    Justin straightened and regarded his handler. “Seems to me, Control, that you have a conflict of interest here.”

    With a little fortification on board, she regained her composure. “No conflict, just extra motivation. Two birds with one stone, and all that.” Control resumed her position against the desk, legs crossed at the ankle. With her hands behind her again, she presented a formidable contradiction in assertive sexuality. “What do you want, Justin? I’m not sleeping with you.”

    He shook his head. Another time perhaps. There will be another time. “I gave up that pursuit long ago. Consider this a favor, Control. All I ask is for fresh wheels and a little latitude.”

    She raised an eyebrow and allowed herself a thin smile. “Latitude?”

    It was Justin’s turn to be flustered. “I don’t care for being drugged. Clearly, I’ve piqued Ms. Longleggs’ antennae. There’s more to the story and I intend to sort it out.”

    Control returned to behind her desk and picked up the dossier and fingered through it. “The weapons trade?”

    He nodded. “Among other things.”

    “Be careful, Mister Cayse,” she said, sat down and started clicking away at her keyboard. He turned to leave. She took off her glasses and called after him. “Oh, and Justin?”

    He turned around. “Yes?”

    She read from her screen. “Stop by the Armory. I see your new go-bag is ready. I’m sure Tango will insist on showing you all the features whilst you await your new car.”

    Justin bowed slightly. “Thank you, Control.”

    Without looking up, she added. “Miranda. When it’s only the two of us, Justin, you can call me Miranda.”

    “Thanks, Miranda.”

    He shook his head and smiled to himself as he left her office.

  4. PeterSpiderParker

    I like the whole idea of this prompt, the fact that now you’re going to have to find an excuse to why you are late AND confront your boss all at the same time. It could go many ways, your boss could be rude, and angry, or he could be nice, and forgiving. Good Job

  5. George

    – Oh, well that’s just perfect now!!! A car accident is just what I needed…a perfect start for a perfect day…”Oh, damn it, it’s my boss Catherine…oh boy, what am I going to say to her?! Ok, just chill, Mark, she’s your boss, she doesn’t know that you have a crush on her…act normal”.
    – Hi Catherine! How are you? “yup, how are you? Smart move, asshole…you just crushed into her…good job, you’re screwed now!”
    – Hey Mark! Well, I had better days, I have to admit…quite a damage you did to my left wing…I guess we’re not going to be on time for the meeting, heh?
    – Listen, I’m really sorry…My mind was set on today’s meeting. Honestly, I kept thinking about you, I mean, about the meeting and about your presentation, and I ugh, just wasn’t paying attention…”You’re just a genius, aren’t you?! Just stop talking, stupid! You’ll make everything worse”.
    – Hey, don’t worry. At least we have a good excuse for being late, right? Let’s leave the insurance guys to take care of the cars and let us grab a taxi so we can catch the meeting; and we’ll deal with the damage later…what do you say?
    – Yeah, sure…that’s perfect…whatever you think it’s better! “oh, grow a pair, will yea?”
    – Great…taxi!!!

    – Soo…Catherine, ready for the meeting? I’ve heard these guys from the capital are a real pain in the ass when it comes to negotiating…
    – Well, kind of. But I know these guys pretty well. If you created the presentation as I told you to, we shouldn’t have any problems…
    – …yeah, definitely! “Oh fuck!!! My laptop is in my car…the car…oh boy!!!”

    – Ok! We’re finally here. Let’s meet in the presentation room in ten minutes. Let’s hope that the guys aren’t to mad.
    – Sure. See yea there! “Oh fuck…what am I going to do now?! Call the insurance company? There’s not enough time to go after the laptop…oh boy. I guess I’m screwed. I should just go up there with my resignation letter. Great job, stupid…you screwed everything in twenty freaking minutes…good luck inviting Catherine out after you screw up the negotiation…”
    – Hello! My name is Mark Frisk. I was in a car accident this morning. I believe the car was towed by your company to the service…yes…yes, that’s the one…I had a backpack with a laptop in it…it is very important…she did? Really? Oh, that’s great! Thanks! “I guess I have a guardian angel…and her name is Catherine. Just go straight to her and thank her!”
    – Catherine…you took my laptop, didn’t you?
    – Hah…yeah, I did…I just wanted to let you boil for a little bit…you owe me a coffee, I hope you realize that. Ok now, let’s kick some assess and close this contract!
    “Oh my god, oh my god…she totally likes me…yeeeeesss!”
    – Sure, let’s do this!

  6. swatchcat

    “Daydreaming on your way to work, you get into a car accident. Frustrated because you will be late for an important meeting, you curse and yell as you get out of the car.”

    “Yah, I, I’m screaming and yelling, I’ve lost control.”

    “When you go to confront the other driver, you find out it is your boss. What do you do Jema? How do you react?”

    “I don’t know, I stopped seeing a person, I just saw red.”

    “Let’s go back just before the incident. What was happening? What were you thinking about?”

    “Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

    “Take me through it, slowly. Nothing is going to hurt you, you’re safe. Now take a deep breath.”

    Jema breathed deeply, a small fluttering sound from the back of her throat let known how scared she really was. “I’m driving, heading to work like I always do and it happened again.”

    “What happened?”

    “I left. I was there but then I wasn’t. There’s nothing there.” She started to shake, tears trickled down her cheek. She lay on the doctor’s sofa, searching the recesses of her mind. All she saw was…

    “There is nothing! No color, no non-color, there’s just nothing, it’s not even black. I’m driving and I lost myself. I don’t even know how I came back. Maybe I blinked? I didn’t hit the turtles. There’s no horn or sound at all and then he was there, the world was back, and I hit him, or, no, he hit me?”

    He clapped his hands and she woke from the hypnosis. “You killed him Jema. You got out of the car in a panic and you hit him. You bashed his head in with a rock. The police said you must have just picked it up and kept hitting him. That’s the red you saw.” Doctor Jensen paused to scribble in a file. “How long have you been, ‘leaving yourself’?

    Patient: Jema Sorenson
    Diagnosis: Schizophrenia, severe disassociation and depersonalization with reality and people brought on by unknown trauma, possible abuse as a child, dangerous to others, dangerous to self
    Treatment: Tranquilizers, shock treatment, hypnosis therapy

    Doctor Jensen looked up from his file. Jema was still sitting on the edge of the sofa. Her eyes had rolled backward in their sockets. She sat there for 10 minutes and snapped to, shook her head and looked around confused. “Doctor, can I have your cup of Jell-O at lunch?”

    “Jema, where were you just now?”

    1. Kerry Charlton

      This is horrifying in slow motion. A nightmare that keeps on giving. I feel so much pain here. Your description and dialgue between Jema and Dr. Jensen is so real, it frightens the reader. The beating with a rock, such a primative method of delusional murder, and she wasn’t even there to enjoy it or be disguisted with her doing it in the first place, leaves the reader as an empty, shocked shell.

      This is the best I’ve ever read from you, swatchcat. Even though it’s only six fifty three in San Antonio this morning, I feel I need to mix a stiff drink to bury this until I wake up some more and realize I’m not dreaming this.

    2. Marc Ellis

      I really enjoyed your story. The dialogue moved it along and kept the reader interested. I’m a fan of psychological thrillers, and I think this is shaping up to be a good one. This is one of my favorites for the week.

  7. obietemp

    Yes, Officer, my mind was occupied. I admit it. I was thinking about the new job, our new kid–the new MORTGAGE. Spilling coffee all over my shirt didn’t help the mood much, either. Stupid non-spill mug, doesn’t work! Nothing’s going right today. Nothing.

    Then I turned on the radio, trying to get my mind off of things. Suddenly, traffic slowed down to a crawl, then to a stop! “Great” I thought. “It’s probably some stupid woman driver’s fault.” They get distracted so easily, you know. Stupid women drivers! Now I’m going to be late for the member’s meeting. Stupid women.

    “Probably should call the office,” I thought. “Tell them I’m gonna be late” I didn’t want to be at that boring meeting anyway. I began searching for my cell and in my rear view mirror I noticed to my right there was a BMW barreling down on the highway shoulder passing the jammed up cars. A nice BMW. Kinda uppity for my taste, but still a sweet ride. As it was coming closer I noticed there wasn’t much room on the shoulder and it was going to be a tight squeeze. Man, what was SHE thinking? Oh, wouldn’t you know it. I knew it, I knew it! I saw it coming, then I braced myself. There was a CRUNCH, then a long SCRAPING sound. UGH.

    The BMW stopped just behind the car ahead of me and opened the door. As I got out to exchange insurance information with the obviously blonde dingbat who just destroyed the sides of our cars, my eyes beheld the longest, sexiest pair of legs you have ever seen. I mean, LONG. I mean, SEXY. I gotta say, my jaw dropped.

    “Yeouza! Now that’s gotta be some pretty lady”, I thought. I smiled my biggest manliest grin and walked right up to the car. Yeah, I know, I’m married, but a guy can smile, can’t he? As that lanky-legged woman got out of her car, I looked right up into her face, and stopped dead in my tracks. “Oh, gawd,” I groaned. “Tell me it isn’t so. Those legs are HERS?”

    Yea, the legs were great, like I said before, great, but once I got a look at her face, I died inside. That She-Devil is my new boss. I just met her last week and for some reason we did not hit it off– not at all. She’s actually one of the reasons I was dreading this meeting today. Dreading it.

    Then you showed up, Officer Belkman. Love the bike by the way. I think it’s great how you can just weave in and out of the traffic and all. You saved my skin. I just knew that woman was going to ream me good, no matter who was at fault. If it hadn’t been for you, I don’t know what would’ve happened. Thanks for being so understanding.

    Then Officer Belkman took off her helmet. “Humm” she said. I understand YOU perfectly”