“It’s overflowing. You should stop,” Melinda said.
“I need to clean it up,” Harold responded. “This crystal bud vase has been buried for at least 300 years and I’m finally getting all of the caked-on crud off so that we can appreciate the remarkable workmanship of this priceless artifact, given its age and when it was crafted.”
“I understand that, Harold, but you’re dripping the cleansing solution all over the surface of the work table and you know how acidic that stuff can be,” Melinda said. “You need to be careful that you don’t get any on your skin.”
“I’m wearing safety gloves,” Harold said. “And I know what I’m doing. I’ve done this a million times.”
“Okay, Harold, but….”
Harold jumped back and started screaming. He fell to the floor, grabbed his crotch, and began writhing in agony as the acid burned through his pants to his private parts.
“I was going to say that it was about to drip off the edge of the table,” Melinda said.
Written for the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt from Priceless Joy. Photo credit: Enisa.