Pulp Fiction $5 Shake Novels & Stories

"And make the shake thick." I turned to Raphael, who was standing three feet behind me, looking like a misplaced god in a world of plastic booths. "What do you want?" He looked at the grease glistening on the grill and curled his lip in genuine physical pain, "I don't put that disgusting, processed garbage into my body. It’s practically poison." "Suit yourself." I turned back to the cashier. "Just the one meal, please." The kid tapped on the screen, "That’ll be fifteen-fifty."

She was warm and friendly with an extra chirp to her cherry voice. "Just two cups of milkshake" I said happily. "Do you have a particular flavour you'd love?" "Vanilla and peanut butter with banana shakes please" She nodded her head before getting it done. She moved around, putting one and two together before placing two cups of milkshake onto the counter before me. "That would be 20 dollars" she said, expectedly. I pulled out a 50 dollar note and handed it to her. She took out some change and handed it to me before I took my drinks and walked away.

Teardrops fell into my Tequila but I didn't care, I drank it anyway and ordered another one again. "Miss, I just want to inform you that you have reached the maximum limit of Tequila shots, do you wish to extend?" the Barista asked me. "Uhm, nah. I'm good, how much?" I asked. "That would be five thousand one hundred and thirty three pesos, Miss," he said. I took my wallet and pulled out all of the cash I have. "Can you help me count it?" I asked him while he was smiling at me. He was cute but I'm not into men right now. One spineless guy is enough.

Dante’s knuckles whitened on the paper, veins bulging. “This evening, and you tell me now?” he roared. “Sorry, Dante, just got the call…” “Mobilize everyone! Hunt those bastards who dared steal from me!” He smashed the phone down, his boot slamming into the table with a splintering crack. “Fucking bastards!” He stormed out, the door banging shut behind him. I sat frozen, the screens blurring through my wide eyes, my mind reeling at the escalating chaos, heart hammering so hard it felt like it might crack my ribs. The screen blurred. My hands trembled on the edge of the desk. Then the first gunshot cracked outside.

I peeked up at Pazzi only to see him scowling at me, knowing what I wanted. I pouted and flipped the page so that I could see their pizzas. I decided to go with the ’seafood miracle’, it did indeed sound like a miracle. Once we had ordered, we got our drinks served. Pazzi ordered a cola with a lemon slice and I ordered their chocolate milkshake, just like yesterday. ”You really are stuck to your ways aren't ya?” He said sarcastically as he looked at me with boredom. ”Have you tried this? If that pizza is a miracle then this is a fucking unicorn,” I said as I took a big gulp of the shake.

I turned towards the first breakable object—a porcelain plate—and with one hard swing, I sent it crashing into pieces. Russo grinned. “That’s my girl.” And just like that, every ounce of anger, every fragment of hurt, shattered along with the glass. I swung again. And again. Each impact sent a wave of relief through me, like I was physically breaking apart the anger and hurt I had been holding onto. Russo stood back, arms crossed, watching me with a small smile as I let it all out. I moved on to a ceramic vase, then a TV screen, relishing the sound of glass cracking under my bat. By the time I got to an old car windshield, I was breathless, my body warm with adrenaline.

"When would you have done that?" "I don't know, but I still feel that way." Our tattooed bartender showed up, and Gemma turned to her. "Four of your cheapest beers that come in bottles, please," she said. The bartender raised an eyebrow, glancing at the fancy cocktails we'd just been drinking, but shrugged and produced four bottles of Pabst Blue Ribbon from under the bar. "Ten dollars," she said, and Gemma handed her a Ten and three Ones. The bartender winked at Gemma and then was off to other customers.

After everything that had gone down, I really didn't have any desire to stay with the company anymore. I had just arrived at the entrance of the office when someone suddenly threw a bowl of gooey liquid in my face, causing the clumpy, muddy sludge to drip from my hair. I wiped my face, immediately choking on a sharp, pungent odor of cheap, artificial chemicals mixed with powdered peanuts. "Oh, my bad, Emma! I just whipped up this peanut sauce, and it accidentally slipped out of my hands!" Julia stood in front of me, holding the empty bowl and covering her mouth as she shook with laughter, though her eyes flashed with pure malice.

After thorough consideration, Vince forced a smile and said, "Mr. Ballard, you're right. As long as it doesn't involve murdering anyone, I can close an eye for some slight punishments." "Great!" Sebastian pointed at the shattered glass and said to Jerry, Logan, the manager, and the waitress, "There are four glasses here and four of you. Each of you will eat one glass. "Also, didn't you say these glasses are imported crystals and that they are worth 50 thousand? Fine, I'll accept this price, but each piece of shattered glass will cost 50 thousand. So, cash or card?" The waitress and manager immediately fainted when they heard his words.

It is amazing how a beautiful young girl like her can resort to such because of a breakup. I raise my hand to the barmaid and order myself a glass of neat whiskey. Paula finally turns her face to me and chuckles before she turns to the barmaid and orders herself Porn Martini. “Didn’t you have enough already?” I ask, getting up on my seat before she does, and I bring out my arm for her to hold because I know she might be feeling a little lightheaded from taking shots in a streamline. She holds on to it, taking her purse as we head to one of the dining tables.