The Toast Point Bad Fiction Contest
proudly presents:
Ignoring the by-now screaming Flakers, Sofie Mae expertly shooed the hog into Floyd's old toolshed, then grabbed a pair of bolt-cutters and headed for the disheveled couple.
"Floyd, I'm gonna cut you two idiots loose, but you'd better get your ugly pink cars away from here before Kix Dunkin remembers that he cuffed you up. Flammie, what in tarNAtion were you doin' here?"
Flammie held herself as upright and proud as one can be when one is handcuffed to one's car. "Not that it's any of your business, you man-stealin' harlot, but I was tryin' to see if our new neighbor was gonna come to our church! Somethin' that you might consider, missy!"
Sofie laughed the deep country laugh of a woman who's seen it all, and run a farm by herself, too. "Don't forget which one of us's tied up and which one's got the bolt-cutters, ma'am, and don't forget which of us is married to the idiot who let mah hog get loose! Now shut up and get outa here afore Kix gets back."
"But..."
"Shut up, Flem!" both women chorused.
Grumbling, Flem allowed himself to be cut free, then Flammie. "Y'all are gonna have to visit Resolve Flumgartner's shop to have him remove those cuffs, but they'all ain't chained together at least. And y'might wanna leave that car at Bubba's Garage to have them clean it up for ya. "
"But there's a dent in MAH fender now!" wailed Flammie. But Sofie Mae had already hurried back to the house to check on her strangely-attractive neighbor. Flem allowed himself one last ogle of Sofie Mae's departing backside before Flammie snarled "Just wait until we get home, Flem Flaker!".
Meanwhile, an unusually somber Kix Dunkin was holding his hat over his heart, looking at the not more than 65% left of his brother on the morgue table. "Hoo-ey, did he have that expression on his face when you found him?"
Eb drawled, "Well, a-course I didn't find him, young Wally Harvbanger down Route 1 was going froggin' up on the Peak and he brung 'em in, plus a buncha frogs. He scare out half the lunch crowd - I gotta get me a sign for the front door of the diner. How about "No shirts, no shoes are fine, bodies around to the back."?
Kix regarded the body with what he hoped looked like professional scrutiny. "Natcheral causes," he said at last. "Seems to me ol' Slam fell outten his deer stand and natcherly that'ud do it."
"But what about all them missin' hunks?" wondered Eb aloud, while he wondered silently if he had enough putty on hand to fill in the missing parts without having to make a run to K-Mart to replenish his supply. "Fallin' didn't do that."
"Naw," allowed Kix, peeved that his professional abilities were being questioned, "but I spec' he hit a buncha limbs on the way down an' natcherly that'ud knock some chunks off'n him. Then, you got to allow for them buzzards. They right thick up on the peak and they natcherly work mighty fast. Yup, it's natcheral causes."
As Kix and Eb debated the various means of natcheral causes, Trixi saw her chance to slip unnoticed out of the back of the squad car and wander into Flo's diner for an order of pork rinds and an extra-large strawberry milkshake, her favorite post-coital snack.
Bertie, whose nerves were never rock-solid, and who had just been through an awful lot, spasmed startledly, sending his plastic water cup bouncing loudly across the tiles. Bending quickly to mop up the water, he took a deep breath, then said "I'm fine, Sofie..Miz Strunk. Be out in a minute."
"It's OK, Mr. Lindenwood. Ah'm just gonna clean up the mess mah hog made."
While Sofie resourcefully hunted up a bucket and mop, Bertie used the chance to sneak back to the bedroom and finish freshening up.. A dab of Dippity-Do in just the right places transformed him to what he hoped was a dashing rake of a man. Just as he was putting the finishing touches on the knot of his sexiest bow-tie, the ones that made all the undergrads giggle, a timid knock at the door made him jump once more.
"Ken Ah come in, Mr. Lindenwood?
"Do I, Miss Strunk?"
They both looked away, bashfully, then recovered. Bertie, catching a quick peak at the mirror once again, decided that, after the events of the afternoon, almost anything would be acceptable, and before he could succumb again to his natural timidity, said what was on his mind. "Sofie...would you like to have dinner with me?"
Sofie, who had had much the same in mind, answered with characteristic spirit. "Bertie, after all the fuss that my fool hog caused, I think I owe you a good time...*cough* on the town, I mean. Gimme an hour, and I'll git Petunia back up the hill, get prettied up...and then I'll come right down and we'll have a nice night out! How's that!"
Bertie hung on to every native-inflected syllable. "Why, why... why don't I help you bring your hog home, Miss Strunk?"
Sofie felt a blush travel right down over her amble bosom and travel way down to the nether regions. Stunned, she listened in amazement to herself uttering the first even slightly suggestive sentence she had ever verbalized, "Mr. Lindenwood, you can help me drive my hog home anytime!"