Drink for Justice
Reading time: 1 minute
Way I figure it, Frain made his choice three years ago.
People collect things. Frain collected license plates. From the cars we stole.
One morning, this is three winters ago, it’s five degrees outside. We’re coming home from 7-11 on account of Frain’s needing to address his Mountain Dew fix. Not even planning a job, but this lady warms up her SUV and scurries back inside.
We look at each other. Frain with his toothy grin working that Big Gulp straw.
“Get to work, Wide Load.” Only he calls me that, don’t get yo’ ass any ideas. I lumbered ‘cross the street. Shimmied behind the wheel. Drove to Felipe’s Garage, place we part out cars.
That’s where he noticed the plates. SUV belonged to Detective Bridget O’Flynn. Next day, Frain dimed me out. I got thirty-four months.
Released fourteen days ago. Mixed the ethylene glycol into Frain’s Big Gulp fourteen hours ago. They say it’s a horrible pain going this way. Judging by the theatrics he went through in the back seat, I’d say they’re right. Wish he’d hung on for a few more hours though. I was wantin’ a little more justice.
* * *
My old buddy Wide Load Johnson makes his annual appearance in the A to Z Blogging Challenge. Will Frain recover? Of course he will. Might even haunt the Fat Man later in the month, who knows.
Meantime, Frain’ll revive because TOMORROW IS KINDA SPECIAL. Don’t tell her, but my wife gets to vanquish me. I’ll let you know how gleeful she is if/when we go out Friday night. And how do you suppose she’ll do it?
- Fire extinguisher
- Frying pan
- Fudge brownies
Now if you’ll excuse me, my life insurance administrator wants my signature. Says my wife wants to double my policy. She must love me twice as much as she used to!