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| Nothing brings people together like getting rid of a body. |
SUBMITTED BY: cryptkicker
SUBMITTED ON: February 16, 2009 |
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| TYPE: |
| Story |
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| GENRE: |
| Comedy |
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| DEDICATION: |
| the secret fish |
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| STORY: |
“Hold it, Burt,” I shouted. Standing at the front of the rental car, I was on look-out. An old pick-up had appeared at the crest of the hill and was now roaring down the highway towards us.
The rental was backed into an over-grown gravel road that ended at a rusted metal gate. The pasture inside rolled and tumbled as far as the hills would allow with no life in sight. A large mound of bushes obscured the parked car from traffic to our left, but traffic coming down the hill to the right as the pick-up had left us fairly exposed
As the pick-up bounced out of sight, I shouted an all clear over my shoulder. “Let’s just do this and get out of here!”
From behind me, the trunk popped open and moments later Burt appeared around the exposed side of the car. “Okay. I’m ready,” he said, hefting the over-sized cooler in his sun-burnt arms and a delighted look on his face.
I stared at him with caterpillared brows and shrugged up shoulders. “Well, do it then.” I admonished. When Burt still stood there holding the plastic coffin half a heartbeat later, I barked “Now!”
“Oh, right,” Burt leapt, lugging the cooler around to the concealed side of the vehicle.
I turned back to check on traffic. Even at the front of the car I could smell the over-powering scent of rot and hear the soft glop as the body spilled out of the cooler and fell to the dusty ground below. A shiver raced up my spine.
The deed done, I gave one final look up the road and hopped into the car as Burt tossed the empty cooler into the trunk. I cranked the car to life and dropped it into gear. Before Burt had a chance to fully slide into the passenger’s seat, the wheels were spinning on the volcanic gravel, sending dust and debris kicking up against the rusted witness to our deed. I wheeled the car onto the upper highway and we sped away.
“It’s done,” I stated, feeling more parental than successful.
“And no one’s the wiser,” was Burt’s pleased reply.
For several moments, the turning of the tires on the hot pavement was the only sound between us. Birds raced along with the car and darted intricate patterns in the trees alongside the black highway.
“Burt,” my reproachful tone broke the silence sharply, “the next time you catch one too many fish, don’t just stick it in your brother-in-law’s cooler and forget about it. I really don’t want to do this again.”
“You got it, Boss,” was his cheery reply.
I sighed. No lesson had been learned here. I knew we’d be doing the same thing, or something very similar to it, the next time we met. I shook my head and turned up the radio as car flew down the sunny island highway. |
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