Marshall opened the back of the Jeep and began throwing wood off to the side. When Ambrose lay before him he took a deep breathe and hoisted the big man unceremoniously to the ground. Well this was going to be a dragging act because he sure could not lift him. Oh, yeah, there was the snow shovel! Glad he had bought that. It would come in handy for this task. He wedged the handle under a nearby boulder and pulled Ambrose into position. There we go! Brains over brawn any day of the week. He grasped the handle, maneuvered into position and was amazed at how easily the load went up the hill, through the opening and as he neared the hole ahead he turned the handle and pushed the body near the hole. Now, how to unload it without getting too close.
Marshall studied the site for a moment and then laughed. All he had to do was get the body a little further and then raise the handle and off into the eternal never land of sleep the cop would go! Very carefully he moved the body forward until he felt it start to pull the shovel down. He slowly raised the handle just an inch or two and Holy Shit! In the hole it all went, shovel, body and damn near Marshall. In just the briefest moment of clarity, he released the shovel handle right before it jerked him over the side. There was the first thud as the body hit the wall. He waited. He waited. The second thud never came. He crept closer to the edge and shined his light over the side. Holy Mother! The man was straddling the shovel which was wedged into a crevice. He stared closer. That rat bastard was laughing at him! He played his light around the walls. There was no way down and no way up. He was just going to have to stay there and laugh, because there was nothing Marshall could do at this point. The corpse had stolen his shovel and was now hanging above the abyss laughing at him.
This was not good. This was not good at all. Marshall contemplated his options. Let’s see, he could climb to the bottom and what? Stay there the rest of his life? Or he could take the high road and do nothing. That seemed the way to go. If some idiot happened to stumble on his little cavern here the bodies on the bottom might go unnoticed, but Brome Hilda there on the shovel handle was practically begging to be seen. Oh, well, that was a problem he could do nothing about. Oh, and that shovel handle. He had not left a fingerprint on anyone in the bottom there, but that shovel handle would be a treasure trove of DNA and the little dealy with the ISBN number on it could be traced to the hardware store and right to Mr. Marshall Purcell. A trickle of sweat began to run down his neck and on down his back. Felt like a damn Centipede! He stood erect and hurried from the cavern into the bright Colorado sunlight.
As he hurried down the hill and the Jeep came in sigh,t he reached in his pocket for the keys. Other pocket. He stopped and patted himself from top to bottom. Every pocket he had. Crap! Not again! He had just had this talk with himself about not locking his keys in the car and now when he was in a hurry he had done the very thing he had warned himself about. He stopped and went through the pockets again. They had to be in the Jeep. He had to have them to get here so they were not on him, they had to be in there. Just in case he got lucky he walked to the back of the Jeep and stared at the empty lock. Not there. Nope, definitely not there.
He walked to the passenger door. Locked. He looked in the ignition. Not there. Oh, no! Had that cop somehow managed to pick his pocket? Dead people did very strange things. He knew that for a fact. There was that whore he had picked up on Larimer Street that one afternoon. He had checked them all out and she appeared to be the cleanest one of the bunch. She was wearing a skirt so short he thought he could see her panties. Or not panties. She had huge breasts. They were so big he thought they must be false.
He pulled the Jeep to the curb and looked directly at her. She came and leaned in the window and he reached over and touched her cleavage. “How much?”
“For what, sweetie? An hour? A blow job? All day? You got to tell Flo what you want.”
“All day. A walk in the forest. I want to screw on the forest floor on a pile of pine needles.“
“You ain’t kinky are you? You won’t hurt me will you? Johnny doesn’t like me to leave this area, so it gonna cost you extra. Johnny gets mean sometimes.”
“Get in Flo. I will make it worth your time. “ He opened the door and settled back behind the wheel. Flo climbed in and nestled back into the leather seat. “Nice,” she said and smiled showing a mouth full of yellow teeth. Marshall slipped the Jeep into drive and pulled out into the traffic headed West toward the mountains.
It did not take long to reach the area he sought. Flo was enjoying the act of being a lady and waited for him to open her door. He took her hand and led her to a nearby blanket of pine needles. She giggled as he spread a sheet over the top of the aromatic bed provided by Mother Nature. He removed her glasses and stared into her eyes. Yes, he had chosen well. He settled himself on the newly made bed. He removed his slacks and indicated what he wanted. “And look at me while you are doing it. Look me right in the eyes.” She began her work and she was very good at it. Her eyes never left his. “Oh, Mother!” he murmured as she worked on him and as he felt his release he sceamed the words, “MOTHER, MOTHER, MOTHER!” And then it was over and he was spent. He felt the tears spilling down his cheeks. And then she laughed.
Damned whore! Who was she to laugh at him? He grabbed her tit and bit down with all the force he had as she screamed and tried to pull away. He spit the nipple across the forest floor and grabbed her head and snapped her neck. Bitch! She had made something so beautiful dirty.
Marshall wrenched his mind away from that afternoon and focused, slowly on the problem at hand. He was locked out of his jeep in a very bad place. His keys were probably down at the bottom of the cavern along with lots of bones, the whore included. Well, he sure as hell could not call Triple AAA. Well, he could, but that move would not be wise at all. Then he smiled. Then he chuckled. He was not screwed yet. He had a key hidden in the Jeep under the seat. He had done that because this was not his first rodeo. He would simply pick up a rock and break the window, reach in and open the door and get the key and drive his little self home. Life was good.
He quickly located a rock that was satisfactory for the purpose and slammed it into the window. Not quite as easy as he thought, but soon he was inside the Jeep and had the key in the ignition and disarmed the shrill alarm that was quickly destroying his ear drums. He backed the Jeep around until he was positioned for the down hill descent, slowly released the clutch and moved forward, never once looking at the ring of keys laying in the dirt not 10 feet from the back of the Jeep. He was intent on getting home to the woman he loved .
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Marshall studied the site for a moment and then laughed. All he had to do was get the body a little further and then raise the handle and off into the eternal never land of sleep the cop would go! Very carefully he moved the body forward until he felt it start to pull the shovel down. He slowly raised the handle just an inch or two and Holy Shit! In the hole it all went, shovel, body and damn near Marshall. In just the briefest moment of clarity, he released the shovel handle right before it jerked him over the side. There was the first thud as the body hit the wall. He waited. He waited. The second thud never came. He crept closer to the edge and shined his light over the side. Holy Mother! The man was straddling the shovel which was wedged into a crevice. He stared closer. That rat bastard was laughing at him! He played his light around the walls. There was no way down and no way up. He was just going to have to stay there and laugh, because there was nothing Marshall could do at this point. The corpse had stolen his shovel and was now hanging above the abyss laughing at him.
This was not good. This was not good at all. Marshall contemplated his options. Let’s see, he could climb to the bottom and what? Stay there the rest of his life? Or he could take the high road and do nothing. That seemed the way to go. If some idiot happened to stumble on his little cavern here the bodies on the bottom might go unnoticed, but Brome Hilda there on the shovel handle was practically begging to be seen. Oh, well, that was a problem he could do nothing about. Oh, and that shovel handle. He had not left a fingerprint on anyone in the bottom there, but that shovel handle would be a treasure trove of DNA and the little dealy with the ISBN number on it could be traced to the hardware store and right to Mr. Marshall Purcell. A trickle of sweat began to run down his neck and on down his back. Felt like a damn Centipede! He stood erect and hurried from the cavern into the bright Colorado sunlight.
As he hurried down the hill and the Jeep came in sigh,t he reached in his pocket for the keys. Other pocket. He stopped and patted himself from top to bottom. Every pocket he had. Crap! Not again! He had just had this talk with himself about not locking his keys in the car and now when he was in a hurry he had done the very thing he had warned himself about. He stopped and went through the pockets again. They had to be in the Jeep. He had to have them to get here so they were not on him, they had to be in there. Just in case he got lucky he walked to the back of the Jeep and stared at the empty lock. Not there. Nope, definitely not there.
He walked to the passenger door. Locked. He looked in the ignition. Not there. Oh, no! Had that cop somehow managed to pick his pocket? Dead people did very strange things. He knew that for a fact. There was that whore he had picked up on Larimer Street that one afternoon. He had checked them all out and she appeared to be the cleanest one of the bunch. She was wearing a skirt so short he thought he could see her panties. Or not panties. She had huge breasts. They were so big he thought they must be false.
He pulled the Jeep to the curb and looked directly at her. She came and leaned in the window and he reached over and touched her cleavage. “How much?”
“For what, sweetie? An hour? A blow job? All day? You got to tell Flo what you want.”
“All day. A walk in the forest. I want to screw on the forest floor on a pile of pine needles.“
“You ain’t kinky are you? You won’t hurt me will you? Johnny doesn’t like me to leave this area, so it gonna cost you extra. Johnny gets mean sometimes.”
“Get in Flo. I will make it worth your time. “ He opened the door and settled back behind the wheel. Flo climbed in and nestled back into the leather seat. “Nice,” she said and smiled showing a mouth full of yellow teeth. Marshall slipped the Jeep into drive and pulled out into the traffic headed West toward the mountains.
It did not take long to reach the area he sought. Flo was enjoying the act of being a lady and waited for him to open her door. He took her hand and led her to a nearby blanket of pine needles. She giggled as he spread a sheet over the top of the aromatic bed provided by Mother Nature. He removed her glasses and stared into her eyes. Yes, he had chosen well. He settled himself on the newly made bed. He removed his slacks and indicated what he wanted. “And look at me while you are doing it. Look me right in the eyes.” She began her work and she was very good at it. Her eyes never left his. “Oh, Mother!” he murmured as she worked on him and as he felt his release he sceamed the words, “MOTHER, MOTHER, MOTHER!” And then it was over and he was spent. He felt the tears spilling down his cheeks. And then she laughed.
Damned whore! Who was she to laugh at him? He grabbed her tit and bit down with all the force he had as she screamed and tried to pull away. He spit the nipple across the forest floor and grabbed her head and snapped her neck. Bitch! She had made something so beautiful dirty.
Marshall wrenched his mind away from that afternoon and focused, slowly on the problem at hand. He was locked out of his jeep in a very bad place. His keys were probably down at the bottom of the cavern along with lots of bones, the whore included. Well, he sure as hell could not call Triple AAA. Well, he could, but that move would not be wise at all. Then he smiled. Then he chuckled. He was not screwed yet. He had a key hidden in the Jeep under the seat. He had done that because this was not his first rodeo. He would simply pick up a rock and break the window, reach in and open the door and get the key and drive his little self home. Life was good.
He quickly located a rock that was satisfactory for the purpose and slammed it into the window. Not quite as easy as he thought, but soon he was inside the Jeep and had the key in the ignition and disarmed the shrill alarm that was quickly destroying his ear drums. He backed the Jeep around until he was positioned for the down hill descent, slowly released the clutch and moved forward, never once looking at the ring of keys laying in the dirt not 10 feet from the back of the Jeep. He was intent on getting home to the woman he loved .
***********my sponsor links*************
Now more of the latest tablets at officemax.com.
Primary
22 Wusthof Kitchen Cutlery Sets On Sale + Free Shipping on $25 at CHEFS
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Mrs. Fields Gifts
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