Word count: 100
Too Much Stuff
Brenda could barely stand it. Sure, it was kitschy and people always gawped when they first walked in; there was so much to absorb. Trinkets, bottles small and large, big mirrors, little mirrors, knick knacks, crap everywhere. And the stupid painting that made no sense. She was on the verge and one day soon, Brenda was gonna lose it with the bar, the people, her boss, the stuff.
She envisioned whaling all those bottles to the floor, satisfaction coursing through her at the decimation. And that picture, she would lift high to break across her leg, grinning, frenzied, maniacally satisfied.