Short Story: Bit-Part

A short story...that's fiction. Not real. Promise.

It started the way it often did. With the head hitting the table. He would smash the head down hard to startle them, take them by surprise. But also to make them instantly – importantly – submissive, fearful, petrified even. The drinks from earlier might somehow soften the blow just a little, but when they were able to focus again and they saw those deep, cold eyes boring right through them, the look of fear caked across their mouth. Ah yeah, that was the moment. The finest moment – until their last breath, actually. That was the proof that a god existed. Well, not for the victim, obviously. But in general. God was passing through him as he shifted the dynamic, took full control of the evening, owning the night. He had done this 23 times now. And it never got old. A table for two in town. A few drinks. A drive home. A nightcap. The evening going so well. And then BAM! The evening going a little better…for one of them, anyway. It was too much to say any more. Because you should never kiss and tell. You should never tell that you kissed, nor which part. And especially not the parts that now were missing. That was the very best bit…or bits.