I SWEAR I DIDN'T KILL HER!

I SWEAR I DIDN'T KILL HER!

A Story by angel
"

I want honesty; not my usual fare, just seeing if I can write something in a different style.

"
I SWEAR I DIDN'T KILL HER!

I SWEAR I DIDN'T KILL HER!

A Story by angel
 

A man finds a corpse in his car and doesn't know what to do...

 
I am goin' nuts, man...I don't know what to do--I'm serious! That lawyer o' mine is sure takin' his own, sweet time.
Let me just get ya up to speed.
I got outta work at 4:30, like I always do. I was walkin' to my car, not really seein' the parking garage around me. I mean, I park in the same place--my own, personal space-- every day, so there's no need for me to pay attention until I get close to it. 
Maybe if I'd been payin' attention, I would've seen somethin'.But would that have been better? Now that I'm thinkin' about it, I don't think so. I mean, would I want  whoever'd done the things that'd been done to that poor lady to see me, seein' him? Nope. Nope, nope...I'm glad I didn't see the guy.
Anyroad, I am walkin' to my car; it's the first new--I mean really new, not just new to me--car I've ever had; can ya believe it? I'm 36 years old, fer Chrissakes! Most of the other guys down at the plant are on their second or even their third brand new car!
But this one is mine, an' she's a beauty! Metallic green, an'-- f**k; there I go again! You don't care about my car, or me, either, probably. You want to hear about her...the poor, mangled, dead lady, I mean.
Well, my dear officer, I'm gonna tell ya all about it. If I start to drift off topic again, just give me a poke, willya?
I get to my car, and let me tell you, I was mad! There's something--ketchup, I think at the time--all over the hood, the bumper--what a mess. It looks like some happy a*****e poured a whole bottle of that s**t all over the front of my car. On the hood, the bumper, the windshield...I mean, it was horrible; just f****n' horrible!
I swore for a coupla minutes, hardly believin' the whole thing, then got into my car. I see that I left the goddam keys in the ignition again, so I am now also mad at myself.
I drive directly to the car wash; you know, the brushless kind. Those damned brushes play havoc with your car's finish, and--ow! Hey! Why th' hell didja--oh. Right. I did say that. Okay, where was I...
Oh. Yeah--I am at the car wash, and everyone in the place is givin' me the stink eye; you know how it is. The car wash guys are all starin' at me.
I tell them b******s to get their thumbs outta their asses and get all the f****n' ketchup offa my car before it ruins the finish.
They start to move then; scrubbin' her down good with those big sponges and the squeegee that they got. Do ya figger ya could get one o' them squeegees, huh? I mean, like, for home use? Because--OW! I never said 'pinch'! I said POKE! Not now, d****t! Ya wanna hear the story or not, cuz I'm gonna--
OK. Fine. Just listen, then.
Once the car was clean, I pay the guy--no tip for these a******s. They stared at me and talked about me the whole time. I know, cuz they kept lookin' at me while they were talkin'. You know how ya can just tell?
I drive outta the lot, and there they all are, lined up like pigeons on a rooftop, watchin' me leave.
Made me sorta proud; I thought they were just admirin' Betty. Oh, that's the name I gave the car; you know how people do, sometimes. That's all I thought it was...then. Now, I know better.

I was hungry, so I thought I'd stop at GRUB N' GO on the way home. I love that place; old-timey, like--they got those young chicks that come out to yer car on f****n' roller skates, wearin' them skirts; they're so short they oughta wear matchin' panties, cuz the ones they're wearin' never match the skirt. I like the newer gals best--they tend to fall a lot, so ya get lots of peeks at them panties. One gal came in--she was new, so I was keepin' my eye on her, wonderin' what color underwear she's wearin', kinda bettin' myself--anyhow, sure enough, she falls. Up go the legs out from under that girl, and, boy howdy! No underpants at all! Glad I was watchin', cuz she's not likely to  make that mistake again, am I right? And the tops they wear are pretty good too--
What? Oh. yeah, right. The dead lady. OK.
So I'm drivin' home, eatin' my burger, drinkin' my coffee, and I decided to put the radio on. One of them oldies stations. I like those. This great song comes on. Remember Guns n' Roses? Remember them? This song--WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE--comes on, an' I'm into it, singin' along, when I notice these people on the sidewalk, wavin' and their mouths movin'. I figure they're diggin' the sounds, man...but turns out, that lady was startin' to kinda slide outta the trunk, cuz it's popped open, but it isn't openin' all the way, somethin must be holdin' it most o' the way shut. I couldn't imagine what it could be, but by now I am most o' the way home, so I just let it slide.
Another guy waves from the sidewalk, so I open the window and holler, "It's OK--just some old junk!"
I don't stop, but here that guy was, frantically dialin' his phone. I could see him in the rearview.
Now, I'm home. I pull the car into the garage and go around to the back, to close the trunk.
Holy s**t, there's a lady's arm, bent in an impossible lookin' way, hangin' outta the trunk!
I yank the trunk open, an' there's the rest o' her! I look around to make sure no one else saw what was in there, and shut the garage door, pronto.
Now I am in the garage, and all I can hear is my own breathin'. Sounds like a train comin', it's so damned loud. I stare down at the lady. I'm pretty sure I never saw her before. I say I'm pretty sure, cuz her face is sorta messed up.
She only has one eye, and it's sorta hangin' out onto her cheek. It was gross, I can tell ya that much!
Up comes my seven-dollar hamburger, chunks of it, at least, in a gush o' coffee. I look at her again, cautious-like, but I'm pretty sure I won't puke any more, now that I already seen 'er.
That poor lady was a pure, blue-eyed wonder of a mess, man! Her jaw was--well, not just broke, it was half ripped off! Her head didn't hang right, either, so I knew her neck was broke, too. I thought I oughta take her outta the trunk. I lifted her out; it was real easy. She didn't weigh much, and that surprised me, cuz I heard so much all my life about 'dead weight', and how it was heavier. If that's right, this poor lady probably didn't even top out at a hunnert pounds. 
After I got her outta the trunk, I got a tarp, and tried to put her into a more comfortable position.
I know, she was dead, and she couldn't feel nothin', but that unnatural position she was in was makin' me feel uncomfortable.
I finally got to where I thought she looked okay, and I sat down beside her, tryin' to think about what I should do next.
The poor lady was a mess, kinda broke here and there, and dirty as f**k. I thought about her family. I wouldn't want them to see her lookin' the way she was, so I sorta dragged her inta the cellar, which was through the door at the front of my garage.
I didn't wanna take her inta my house, but I was okay with the cellar.
There was a big sink, for presoaking laundry, the realtor told me. I don't do s**t like that, just toss it all inta the machine and let it go. Anyroad, that sink was pretty big, and she was pretty small, so I thought I'd clean her up a bit.
Her clothes were also a mess.
I stripped her down (I didn't even get excited, that's how bad she looked),and hoisted her inta that sink. I got her washed up with some laundry soap and let her clothes go through a cycle, too, while I was at it.
Seemed wrong ta put her inta the same dirty clothes after her 'bath'.
While her clean clothes were dryin', I carried her on inta the house. She was clean now, so I was okay with it. I thought it'd be wrong to let her family see her with her hair all a mess.
I managed to get her hair combed out, so I got my hair dryer. I don't need it that much anymore; my hairline's been travelin' North for a few years, now.
I got her  hair dried, then I studied her face. She looked bad, what with that missin' eye, lopsided jaw, an' all. It wouldn't do to have her family see that, would it?
I found a ping-pong ball and jammed it into her empty eye socket. It was a little too big, so I crushed it a little, then it fit better. I tucked the other eye, the real one, I mean, back where it should be, and it stared up at me.
Averting my eyes, I rolled the eye so that it was looking down in kinda...a demure way, I guess ya'd say.
The clothes dryer buzzed, so I went down to get her clothes.
It was then that the cops got there.
I explained it all; just like I'm tellin' you now. They didn't believe me. And here's the kicker;the cops knew who the lady was!
Did I mention I was divorced? Did I forget that? Oh.Well, I am. And it turns out that the dead lady was the one my wife left me for! I hadn't seen her before, so I had no idea, but she was...and it was the cops who told me. They'd been lookin' for her; Margie--that's my ex-wife--was cryin' an' carryin' on in the police car, and she came in with another cop, took one look at that dead lady, an' started screamin' like a banshee!
"That's her! That's Karla!" she screams. "He must of killed her! He's an animal!" she bellers. "That's why I left him!" she finishes, and this lady cop puts her arms around her.
The female cop's back is to me, and Margie, she looks at me from where her head is on the cop's shoulder, and she smiles. She smiles at me with all the hate and malice that one body can hold, and as two cops, with their backs to her, clap the cuffs on me, she tips me a wink. Then she begins to wail again, cuz yer turnin' around.
I swear it's true, no matter what she says! I'll prove it too, I swear I will..

© 2018 angel


Author's Note

angel
I don't know how it happened! I swear I didn't kill her--

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Reviews

Ahaha! What an interesting story! I like it! Seems like an Alfred Hitchcock type story! I definitly love how you characterized this man; a drunk oblivious man who just goes about his day! And putting in how his ex-wife grins at him really adds the dramatic irony. And then the hilarious endin "I'll prove it too! I swear I will" made me laugh a bit. This guy is screwed. Women are real demons and bitche at times

Posted 11 Months Ago


angel

11 Months Ago

That one is, for sure! Thank you; I'm glad you enjoyed it.
It's a departure from the norm fo.. read more
Sarah_Allen

11 Months Ago

No problem! I'll stop by to check it out later :P
Glad you sorted the glitches out with this great post of yours angel... am just sorry that my previous comments somehow got lost in the process.. seems some very odd things are going on here... Just want to say (again) that as far as I am concerned, you sure can write... and if I didn't know different, I could have sworn this fine story was written by a bloke... that takes a lot of skill as far as I am concerned... the very famous Pat Barker whose novels I adore is exceptionally good at that too... Here, you also demonstrate a sense of humour and fun that ranks among the best.. and you use it often when one least expects it... I sincerely hope that this particular write gets all the attention that I think it deserves.... Phew... All Good Things, Neville x

Posted 12 Months Ago


angel

12 Months Ago

Thanks so much Neville. When I think of you, I think of Stephen King's author's notes in his books.... read more
Neville

12 Months Ago

pleasure's entirely mine... N

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Added on November 15, 2018
Last Updated on November 15, 2018

Author

angel
angel

StaffordSprings, CT



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age 65 sex f writing since age 25, now a 65 year old who is wheelchair bound, but has lived a rich, full life and has a lot to THAY.Fans of John Irving's THE WORLD ACCORDING TO GARP should get that.. more..

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