Time's a Wasting

Ellis drove at a sedate twenty-five miles an hour down Rt. 45. Beside him, Arnold watched as cars passed them like they were standing still, which, essentially, they were. When an eighty-year-old grandma honked and whizzed past, Arnold had to say something. 

“Do you know where the gas pedal is?” he asked. “Even this pathetic piece of Ford junk can go faster than this.”

“Can’t speed up just yet,” Ellis replied. 

Arnold withstood another thirty minutes of slow torture before he broke down. “We need to get this over with, Ellis. Speed up!”

“In just a minute,” Ellis said and checked his watch.

“What are you waiting for?” Arnold asked. “Christmas?” 

“Nope,” Ellis answered. “Waitin’ on him to die.”

“What!” Arnold shouted and turned all the way around in the seat. “He was supposed to be dead two hours ago!”

“You didn’t hit him quite hard enough,” Ellis said. “He was still breathing when I rolled him up and put him in the back.”

“Why didn’t you hit him again then?”

“You kill, I drive. That’s the deal.”

“I can’t believe you! I should hit you over the head too. Nobody would blame me. It’d be a righteous kill,” Arnold stated. 

 

“No need to be that way,” Ellis said.

“Stop the car and let’s get this over with!” Arnold snapped.

“No need,” Ellis replied. “He’s dead by now. We’ve been driving for two hours and it’s a hundred and twenty in the shade. Why do you think I’ve been driving so slow?”

Pot Smoking

The noxious odor was getting more unbearable by the minute. Travis hoped Kyle got back with help soon. Judging by his labored breathing he wouldn’t last much longer. He couldn’t believe how stupid he had been. If he lived through the ordeal, he would never listen to Kyle again. Just sneak in and steal a couple bales, Kyle had said. No one will notice. But notice they did, and in a big way.

Travis had just picked up the first fat bale when the barn doors flew open and a guy the size of a truck ran straight at him. If he hadn’t held the bale in front of himself, Travis believed the guy would have killed him when he knocked him to the ground. As it was, his chest felt like it was caved in and he was sure a couple ribs were broken. 

If the human truck had had his way Travis would already be dead. He had already doused Travis in gasoline by the time his friend arrived. Thankfully, his friend had other plans for Travis. Not that Travis was sure that was any better. He could just imagine what these guys did to people who stole from them. Actually, he was tired of imagining what they would do to him. He had already scared himself half to death thinking about it. 

He would rather spend his time trying to hold his breath to avoid the fumes and thinking about Kyle rescuing him. At least he hoped Kyle was coming back. After the two guys had left, Kyle whispered through the door that he was going for help. Travis had no idea where he was going. They were miles from the nearest town. Pot farmers didn’t plant their crops in the city limits. Maybe Kyle was going to try and get to cell range and call the cops. He hoped Kyle found someone, whoever it was, and made it back before morning. That’s when the guy in charge had said he’d be back.

He had almost given up hope when he heard a loud crash. He turned as much as his bindings would allow and saw the whole barn door fly off its hinges. The next thing he knew, Kyle was running in and grabbing him up. Kyle half carried, half dragged Travis out of the barn. 

“You could help you know!” Kyle shouted as he haphazardly heaved Travis head first into the truck.

By the time Kyle got around the truck and in the driver’s seat, Travis had rolled off the seat and was lying face down on the floor. “What the hell?” Kyle mumbled as he lifted Travis back onto the seat.

“It would help if you’d untie me. I might be able to keep my balance if I wasn’t hog tied,” Travis said. 

“No time,” Kyle said and floored the truck. 

“Aren’t the cops arresting those guys?” Travis asked. “Why the hurry?”

“What cops?” Kyle asked. 

Travis was fixing to reply when he noticed flames raging on both sides of the truck. “What the hell?” 

“I burned it, Man!” Kyle yelled. “I couldn’t find anyone back at the main road so I improvised. I figured they wouldn’t be too worried about you if their merchandise was burning to the ground.”

Trees (A Haiku)

©Angel Sharum. All rights reserved.

Rustling breezes play

Whispering colorful dreams

Hues dance along leaves