Photo Credit: I AM THE VIDEOGRAPHER Flickr via Compfight cc

Busted

Fiction Friday?

“Busted”

By Greg Fowler

The two loud knocks on the door startled me off the couch.

Doesn’t sound like the J.W.’s, I thought. I do have a doorbell for goodness sakes.

I snuck over to the window and bent the blinds down slightly. Peeking out, I could see a jacked up pickup truck in the driveway. A stern voice came from the other side of the door, “Mr. Fowler, open up!”

I turned the deadbolt and pulled the door open slightly. Two medium height men hid behind sunglasses, trucker hats, and beards. “Can I help you?” I asked.

“Mr. Fowler?”

“Uh…yes.”

“Mr. Fowler, we’re from the L.C.R.M.S., and we’d like to ask you a few questions,” man #1 said.

“What’s the L.C…uh.”

“R.M.S.,”  #2 said. “The Lexington County Real Man Society.”

“I didn’t know there was-”

Photo Credit: I AM THE VIDEOGRAPHER Flickr via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: I AM THE VIDEOGRAPHER Flickr via Compfight cc

“Is that your grill out on the back deck?” Man #1 cut me off.

“Yeah, sure,” I answered slowly.

“Are you operating it right now?” #2 asked.

“Uh, no. Why?”

“We can smell it. So, you’re not operating it?” #1 asked, a bit of irritation in his voice.

“I told you ‘No’,” I said.

“You have a son, right?” #2 pressed.

“Yea, how did you know?”

“We know things,” the other one replied.

“Is he operating the grill?”

” No. My wife”…I trailed off. Uh-oh. I’d been caught.

“Mr. Fowler, we’re going to have to issue you a demerit against your man card. In this county, men must do the grilling,” #1 explained.

“But she’s really good,” I pleaded, “And besides, I don’t like to grill.”

“Stop right there Mr. Fowler,” #2 said. “You have the right to remain silent.”

“Are you arresting me?”

“No, but we just don’t want you to say anymore…”

The End

Thanks for reading.

Greg

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *