By Jason M Rubin
The television was on, but Jack wasn’t paying attention. There was a wasp in his apartment and he aimed to kill it.
“Fast fucker,” he mumbled, half in admiration for a foe he’d thrice failed to swat.
“…remnants of Cindy…” flew in his ear, spoken by a newscaster. He kept his eyes on the flying wasp, waiting for it to land again.
“Cindy,” he repeated. He assumed it was the tropical storm. But what if it was remnants of a girl named Cindy that had washed ashore?
The wasp lit on the television. Jack swung. Direct hit.
“Goodbye, Cindy,” he said.
There is a giant leap of faith that I will be able to make some connections in this story without the aid of Maui Wowee or a half empty fifth of Jack Daniels.
I like the general idea but am left with an unsatisfied thought about the connection between the references to Cindy and why your story ends with the demise of yet another Cindy.
Perhaps you could reword paragraph 4 to clarify the connection.
Jack is connecting the name Cindy with an act of destruction. He doesn’t know for sure what the newscaster was talking about but “remnants” means that something is broken apart. So shall it be for the wasp, which he names Cindy for that reason; and perhaps in naming the wasp his aim finally becomes true.