Wednesday, January 11, 2012

A Man, A Musket, And A Murder Vol 5

 Vic Musket sat shotgun in the dank cab of a decrepit semi truck with a burly woman that smelled like wet cheese and menses.  She had asked him several times to quit smoking except during weigh stations, but the only ground he gave was to crack the window a little.  Only a little.  The air was too fresh here and Vic's body seemed to reject it violently, much more so than the thick alleyway smog he was so used to.  The detective took one last dramatic pull from his cigarette and flicked it out the cracked window with total disregard for the wildfire-prone countryside.  His driver uttered an audible sigh of relief, a passive-aggressive complaint about her increasingly unwanted company's smoking which triggered an immediate response in the form of another cigarette, even though Vic didn't want one.

A sign screamed past the passenger window that informed Vic they had just passed the state line from Mississippi to Louisiana, meaning he would soon meet with his contact in Dallas and make progress in clearing his name of murder.  "Thanks for the lift... Miss" Vic realized he had forgotten her name.  "and I'm sorry I can't pay you.  But if you give me your mailing address I will certainly..."

"Don't worry your little head about it, mister.  You can pay me back another way."  The beastly woman interrupted.  Vic had a sinking feeling in his gut.  He was hoping to make it out of this ride without taking his pants off.  The ice now awkwardly broken, the woman pulled into a nearby rest stop and came to a halt, eager to extract payment.

"Alright.  It's only fair." Vic began "But I hope you have a dildo in here, because I don't see an erection in my near future."

The lady trucker smiled.  "No worries, darlin!  I'm just going to climb into my sleeper and let you polish every centimeter of my backside.  It should take about an hour or two so you may want to go use the restroom first, cause once you get started, you ain't stopping 'till yer done."

"I'm good.  Lets get this over with."  Vic said with his game face on.  The woman climbed clumsily into the attached sleeper and peeled the sweatpants off her ample form.  The musk wafted up immediately, steaming up the windows despite the hot weather.  Considering the hygiene he had witnessed over the past 9 hours he had quite an unpleasant job ahead.  Gritting his teeth he grabbed a discarded ketchup packet, a secret weapon to sweeten the salty body odor flavor, and climbed into pole position. 

"Oh, and grab those!  We're going to need them."  The lady trucker gestured at a package of gauze and wadding.  "I burst a hemorrhoid two days ago and she's a bleeder!"

Vic didn't miss a beat in getting eyebrow-deep in her humid nethers.  A lesser man would not be able to control his disgust, or might try to negotiate alternative payment.  But not Vic Musket.  His mouth had been filthier places.  And besides, he kind of liked the taste.  In fact, under different circumstances he might have PAID for this privilege, so the joke was on HER. 

To be continued...

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