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-”
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“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
