Modeled after Giovanni Boccaccio's classic from the 14th Century, this collection similarly brought 100+ short stories to Wattpad readers. The original's premise was simple: ten individuals entertained themselves over a span of ten days by telling a...
"I quit! I quit! I quit," Miranda shouted in a window rattling crescendo.
She couldn't wait to say those words for real to her boss instead to the car radio that insisted on cutting in and out. She pulled into her regular parking spot at the back of the grimy, grease spot of a garage where she had worked for two years as a receptionist. She got out of her car, and the smell of antifreeze and oil assaulted her nostrils even before she walked into through the broken back door. Everything in this place seemed to be broken—other than the Corvette that Darryl, her boss, had restored and was parked in a spot of honor at the bottom of the driveway.
Tomorrow morning, bright and early, she would be heading north, and the excitement and anticipation pricked anxiously at her skin. Six months ago, she had finished all of the qualifications she needed to become a bush pilot, and next week all her hard work was going to pay off as she started her first day of work at her dream job. Today, she was going to pick up her last pay cheque and walk out the door for the last time, but not before she exacted a little revenge on the jerks who had insulted and taken advantage of her since the day she started.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Darryl ran the garage with impunity, as if it was his own little kingdom, overcharging customers while leaving their cars unfixed and lying about how much time he spent on them. She had wanted to quit a hundred times before. She hadn't wanted to be a receptionist, she'd wanted to learn about cars and how they worked. She had thought that if she did, she could transfer some of the skills to her plane, one day when she got one. She knew she needed some mechanical experience—after all, if something went wrong in those remote northern villages then there might not be anyone to help. She had taken all the shop classes in high school and worked with her Dad when he fixed their car, but the garage job was supposed to have helped her take her meager skills a little further, even if a plane wasn't exactly the same as a car. Everything Darryl had promised when he hired her had been a lie. She should have known that when he slapped her on the ass as she walked out of the interview. At the time, she had been startled, and in hindsight, she should have walked out the door and never looked back, but she had been desperate for the job. Getting your pilot's license was expensive, and getting the flight hours she needed was even more expensive. Today, putting up with all that crap was going to finally pay off, and she planned to put a few wrongs right before she left for that final glorious time.
"What kind of disgusting coffee is this?" grumbled Darryl and spit the coffee dramatically on the stained cement floor of the office.
"Darryl, I just got here. That is yesterday's coffee. You know, the coffee you told me to leave? You said you were going to drink it."
He huffed, and Miranda grabbed the pot and rinsed it out before putting the grounds in the coffee maker for a fresh pot.
"I'll make you some coffee," she muttered under her breath.
She waited for the pot to fill up and poured some in a mug with the garage's logo on the front, and then checked around her to see if anyone else was looking. Safe, she spit in the coffee, and then added the cream. She mixed it around, and then went and found Darryl chatting with some of the other mechanics. There were three others besides him. They were pretty much of the same ilke, and always let Darryl get away with things he shouldn't. But, he was their boss, and Miranda didn't blame them the way she blamed Darryl for how her day to day work life had gone.
