Jeff Strand - Casket For Sale

IT'S ANDREW AGAIN.

"One for you," said Troll, giving me a quick cut on th e leg, "and one for me." He cut himself on the leg in the same spot. "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me."

"Okay, that's enough," said Witch, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Let's get him back to the truck."

"One for you…"

"I said, that's enough!"

"Sometimes I think you don't appreciate the finer things in life."

"It's a wonder you have any skin left."

"You should see me naked."

"All right, enough! Let's get moving."

Witch kept her gun pointed at me while Troll stood up and pulled me to my feet. "Ready to go for walkies?"

"No, but I'm ready to crap on your front lawn."

"We don't really have a front lawn."

I almost offered to crap on his shoes, but there have to be minimum standards to even this type of conversation. With Witch keeping me very nicely covered with her gun, I got up and we headed back toward the store.

"So, Troll, is that your real name?" I asked.

Troll chuckled. "Do you always ask such dumb questions?"

"No, I just thought that might be how you guys met. Maybe at a party or something. 'Hi, I'm Troll.' 'No way, I'm Witch!' 'Wow, your parents hated you, too, huh?' 'Oh yeah. So, do you want to get together and hunt innocent vacationers in the Georgia shrubbery?' 'Sure, why not?'"

Troll snorted. "Like I said, you're a funny guy."

"Did you get to pick your own names?"

"Yeah."

"That's cool. Otherwise somebody could've gotten stuck with Orc or something. You just don't want to go around saying 'Hi, I'm Orc.' Or maybe Pixie. Why didn't you pick Dragon, though? Dragon would've been much cooler than Troll. When I think Troll, I think of a weasely little hairy thing living under a bridge eating goats."

"You know, Andrew, the only reason I'm letting you yammer on like this is because you're a dead man. Might as well get all the talking in while you still can."

"I disagree," said Witch. "Shut the fuck up."

"You heard the lady," Troll told me.

I stopped talking for the rest of the walk.

WE REACHED THE store and went inside. "Oh, hell no," said Charlie, emerging from the far aisle. "Don't bring him back in here again!"

"He'll be good this time," Troll assured him. "All we want is some duct tape."

"Yeah, right. You shove any more of those candy bars in your pockets and I'll have your self-mutilating ass."

"Oh, waah, waah, waah. Quit being such a baby. When was the last time you had a customer in this place? Jeez, you've got gallons of milk in the cooler that are completely solid. I've seen 'em."

Witch held her walkie-talkie to her mouth. "Goblin, you there?"

"Yeah."

"We're at Charlie's place."

"I'm right around the corner. I'll be there before Troll can steal a pack of Rolos."

"Gotcha. Witch out."

Troll took a new roll of duct tape off one of the shelves and unspooled an armlength of it. "Put out your hands."

I obliged, if only because Witch hadn't stopped pointing that gun at me. Troll wrapped the duct tape around my wrists several times, binding them together.

"Put some over his mouth," said Witch.

"I don't think they make a roll big enough for that."

"Just do it."

Troll put a long strip of duct tape over my mouth.

A truck pulled into the parking lot outside. The motor turned off, and then Goblin entered the store.

"Oh my goodness," he said, grinning at me. "You're looking kind of humble there, Andrew."

I said something amazingly clever that was muffled by the duct tape.

"I'm very glad to see you again," said Goblin. "As I'm sure you know, I've had a really lousy day, and I can't think of any better way to improve it than to watch you get strapped to a table and have your body parts replaced with…" He put his hand over his mouth in mock realization. "Oops. That's supposed to be a surprise, isn't it?"

"We've got some good ones lined up," said Witch. "Maximum pain."

"That's what I want. I mean, sure, we could just throw him down to the floor right now and stomp him to a bloody pulp, but then, what progress would we have made?"

"You're not stomping a damn thing into a bloody pulp here," said Charlie.

Goblin waved dismissively at him. "Go organize some stock or something."

Charlie opened his mouth as if to say something, but settled for glaring.

"So, Andrew, I'm sorry to hear about your friends," said Goblin. "I hope it was quick."

I said something equally clever that was equally muffled. Troll ripped off the duct tape, and I grimaced in pain.

"What was that?" Goblin asked.

"I said, bite me."

"Good one."

Troll slapped another strip of duct tape over my mouth.

"Anyway, I think we've hung out in this squalor long enough. Let's deliver our new friend, Andrew, to the lab, shall we?"

Goblin's walkie-talkie crackled. "Is anybody there?" asked a voice I instantly, and joyously, recognized.

"Who is this?" asked Goblin.

"I'm Momma Bear. How about we make a deal?"

Goblin laughed incredulously. "What's with all the deals? You'd think we were brokers or something."

"Shut up and listen. Your large friend here fell down and went boom. What do you say we make a trade?"

"Could you describe this particular friend for me?"

"A quarter ton and lying unconscious at my feet."

"Is that so?" asked Goblin. "Now, you're a petite little thing, aren't you? How exactly did you manage to take out Ogre?"

"I had help. A seven-year-old, a nine-year-old, and a pug."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I'm having a bit of trouble with that scenario. The klutz dropped his walkie-talkie somewhere, didn't he? I think I'm going to need some proof. Describe the birthmark on his right shoulder."

A few seconds of silence.

"It looks sort of like a deformed butterfly."

"Uh-oh," Troll whispered.

Goblin frowned. "Okay, you've got my attention. What is it you want?"

"I want my husband and my friends back. You let them go, and I'll tell you where to find your buddy."

"I'm afraid I have some bad news for you," said Goblin. "Apparently two members of your party are deceased. Your husband's okay, though."

"Let me talk to him."

"That can possibly be arranged. First, let me hear Ogre."

"He's unconscious."

"I know. But he snores loud enough to wake the dead. Let me hear it."

"He isn't snoring."

"Now, see, we have a bit of a continuity error here, because Ogre always snores. Therefore, he must be…" Goblin trailed off as he apparently realized exactly what this meant. "…aw, shit."

Troll slammed his fist against one of the shelves. "What the hell is the matter with us today?"

"Shut up," Goblin snapped at him. He spoke into the walkie-talkie. "I want to share some important information with you, Momma Bear. You're not getting out of these woods, I promise you. I don't mean that as a vague threat, I mean you aren't getting out, case closed. But I'll make you a deal of my own. We're at the store where you all stopped not too long ago, and dear Andrew currently has all ten of his fingers. Every five minutes, the number of fingers will be reduced by one. Then we're going to put a gun in his mouth and make him pull the trigger with one of his bloody stumps. So you've got fifty minutes to get yourself over here and save your husband's life. Does that deal work for you?"

"Let me talk to him."

Troll tore off the tape again. One more time, and I was sure the tape would take my lips with it. Goblin held the walkie-talkie to my mouth. I shook my head and refused to speak.

"Say something," Goblin demanded.

I remained silent.

Goblin shrugged, and then kicked me in the leg. I couldn't help but let out a grunt of pain.