As promised, here is part two of “Shasteriskit Happens” –
Mrs. Sanderson was making pretty good time until she reached the intersection of Main and Lyle streets. The light turned yellow, she was going to run it, but an old Ford pickup turned right onto the road ahead. She peered at the driver, an older man with long grey hair coming out of a brown cowboy hat. Stupid hick, probably late for a date with his cousin. Wouldn’t wanna be late. She chuckled to herself, amused by her own wit.
The light finally turned green, but by that time she was on the other side of the intersection; she had been eyeing the adjacent light, as soon as it was yellow her foot pounded the gas pedal.
The Jetta screamed as she flew through another intersection. She looked at the clock – 7:52 – things were looking up. She could still make it in time and have the whole hour to make her butt as tight as that waitress’s. She was coming to the intersection of Main and Whitley. The light turned yellow; even though she was sitting, she felt her butt jiggle. Not this time. She tightened her grip on the wheel and put the accelerator on the floor. After clearing this intersection she’d only be a few miles away – no more lights.
There was a long line of cars to her left, waiting to turn onto Whitley. Other than that the roadway looked clear. On the other side of Whitley was a blue Ford Econoline van marked “Squeaky Clean Maid Service – We Were Maid to Clean,” trying to turn left. The driver, a middle aged man named Flint, was having a lively debate with his passenger, Janice Jenkins.
“If Pinocchio says, “my nose will grow,” he’d be telling the truth and his nose would stay like it is.” Declared Flint smugly.
Janice shook her head, “No no no, he just lied, so his nose would grow. Are you gonna go?”
Flint smirked, “He said his nose will grow, suggesting he might lie in the future. I can’t see past this line of cars.”
“But what if he doesn’t lie? Then he woulda just lied and his nose would grow. I think it’s clear, gun it! We need to get to Dr. Hoenikker’s house by 8:30, that way we can finish by 11:30 and have a long lunch at that new Mexican buffet.” Said Janice with anticipation.
“Then that statement would turn out to be a lie and his nose would grow, which brings us back to the start. I’m gonna go for it.” Flint could see the steaming plates full of enchiladas and refried beans as he started to turn.
“Is he a real boy or…HOLY SHI…”
Before he could finish his expletive, he bit off the end of his tongue as his head snapped forward violently.
The passenger window exploded, showering Janice’s face with shards of glass.
Mrs. Sanderson, in too much of a hurry to put on her seat-belt, flew through her windshield, hit the asphalt about 40 feet away and slid another 20 feet, leaving a bloody trail laced with pink cotton from her Juicy sweat-suit. Her butt jiggled as she came to a stop.
A few miles up the road from Mrs. Sanderson’s bloody, jiggling posterior, Ben Jenkins was getting ready for work. Ben was the head custodian at Cheney Labs. Getting ready for work didn’t take long – put on clean underwear, a plain white tanktop, then slide on coveralls and he’s ready to go.
He was about to walk out the door when the phone rang. Why won’t Janice get rid of that damn thing? We both have cell phones. He reluctantly walked over to the phone, picked up the receiver, “Hello?” He huffed.
“Is this Ben Jenkins?” Asked the voice on the other end.
“Yes, and I need to go to work; I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling.” Replied Ben, impatiently.
“Mr. Jenkins, this is Officer Ozey with the highway patrol, are you the husband of Janice Jenkins?”
“Mr. Jenkins, your wife has been involved in a collision at the intersection of Main and Whitley.” Said Officer Ozey, solemnly.
Mr. Jenkins gasped, “Is she ok?” He asked, half knowing the answer.
“There’s no easy way to say this sir, so I’ll just say it – she died. I’m so sorry.”
Ben dropped the phone and started weeping.
End of part two. Tune in tomorrow to find out if Ben broke the phone when he dropped it and if the phone was under warranty…