"Certain words or phrases are infinitely more lyrical than others," Nigel was talking to himself again. Nobody else would respond; it was his house, and Nigel was a mean drunk. It was all about the image with Nigel, and we were happy to play along. We were all so full of ourselves that a sort of ennui had settled, so that all the days and nights seemed exactly the same, stretching out in a never ending nothingness.
Until Charles brought a date to the party. Some girl he'd met at the speakeasy he'd been frequenting of late; a perky, cheerful girl with an easy laugh. She wasn't really dressed for dinner, but we enjoyed our new plaything. She found Nigel's piano in the study, and began to play. We all gathered round, grateful for the change of pace. Nigel stood rigidly in the door, staring at Charles' date while she played, jaw muscles clenching. The piano player was oblivious, but Charles had a smug look, as if he had bested Nigel at some sort of contest.
Nigel moved quickly to the piano and before anyone knew, he struck the girl hard on the side of the head, knocking her away from the piano. She hit the ground hard, and Nigel kicked her in the head repeatedly, occasionally stomping on her. All this with his martini in hand, and we just watched. Nobody moved. When it was obvious that the perky girl was dead, Nigel just stopped, breathing heavily. He gulped the last of his martini.
Nigel pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and threw toward Charles. The rain of money startled us all, though none of us were so crass as to pick any of it up. Charles and Nigel stared at one another for a long moment, and we wondered why.
"The cellar door is at the end of the hallway," Nigel finally said, as he turned to leave. "You need to throw your trash in the incinerator."
THIS IS FICTION. I don't know a soul named Nigel, and would feel compelled to mock him if I did. Such things never end well.
Prompt: Third definition of "rain": 3: to
take a lot of money in bill form and toss it up in the air. This is
most effectively done at a strip club for the effect of raining one
dollar bills on the dancers (and it makes them feel so pretty), or to
snub a hater by throwing money into their face that then falls to the
floor like rain (use this when paying a debt to a punk bitch who keeps
asking for their money to the point that they are ruining your
friendship or when dumping someone who has been bankrolling you for a
while now that you're making money).
The password is "cellar door" or a picture of a propeller.