Lightly sparkling brilliance

Today is the best day of my life, because I was just buying a bottle of lightly sparkling water! I know, awesome story right? It's got everything you need to make a story great. 

- intrigue. Where did I buy it? How much did it cost? Did I buy it to quench my thirst? To add spark to my my next water-pistol war? To bless into holy water to pour on the graves of my recently slaughtered enemies? To spray after my next win in a formula one motor vehicle race so as to stop the waste of champagne? To quench someone else's thirst? Where did I buy it? The intrigue is endless. 

- Characters. Me? Possibly even someone else? Unless I bought it from a vending machine, but even then I may have had to wait in line, or ask someone to break a five? But what type of person would I choose to ask? The number of potential characters, and therefore personalities involved are endless. 

- Time pressure. I 'just' bought it. Why now? Why not 24 minutes ago? Why not an hour from now? The time frame this story could unfold in is riveting. 

So good story? Hell Yeah it's a good story. 

But it gets even better. The bottle I got has a fancy floral design and a lady saw me buy it and said. 

'What's that'? And I replied 'Lightly sparkling water' and then she immediately went and bought one too. 

It's taking off people. This could spread around the world. Who knows how far and to how many people this could spread to. The Queen of England? The president of the United States? The dude with the sourpuss face sitting with the lady who copied me? Wow! 

Can't wait to hear all your stories as it hits your part of the world. Have a great day everyone! Now I'm off to drink my lightly sparkling water. But how? From the bottle? With a straw? By osmosis? This story can't stop getting better! 

The Assignment

The assignment came in swift, hard and flawlessly explained. The assigner knew her stuff that is for damn sure. She knew what she wanted from me, and how she wanted it to be achieved. She was clear, unwavering and well spoken. She knew who I was, what I was capable of, and how she wanted me to pull it off. Her instructions were crisp, staunch, and poetically brushed into a beautiful picture of intricate unambiguousness.  

I took the assignment in my stride. I was awake, receptive and understanding. I knew what she required from me that’s for damn sure. I knew what was feathering her tickly spots and how she wanted me to blow them the hell away. I understood her needs, where they were born, and the satisfaction that was awaiting being sparkled and glistened. I received her instructions in my ears, swept them up into my brain and needed no imagination to spin them into an honest and scrupulously vibrant game plan on how it needed to be accomplished triumphantly.

So yeah, you could say it, I went into the break room and I poured the fucking shit out of that glass of water for her.

I just wish I didn’t pick the glass with the chip in it.

The ambulance officer knew what his assignment was that’s for damn sure - stop her lip pouring out blood, for the love of god, stop it, this is gross, I think I’m gonna puke.