Tuesday, November 01, 2011

Monday Musings: Excuse me, Mister. Where can I hide a dead body?

Originally published at Absentminded Author, v2.





Let's pretend it's Monday…again. Time for a creative writing exercise. Take a look at the picture and write a paragraph or two. No theme. No limits. It can even be pulled from your own memories. Let your imagination go wild for a moment. Today I'm going to write about a real story that happened to me the other day.

Since moving to my new apartment, I've been walking around wondering where I'd stuff a dead body. In the garage? Under the stairs? Beneath a pile of wood chips at the end of the parking lot? Each place seemed too mundane and uninspiring. I needed a creative location that would help me push away the doldrums and get deep into the nitty gritty. I needed a place that would avoid detection and misdirect the police.

Late September the perfect place came to me after they closed the pool off for the winter. There it was; right in plain site. But how much time would it buy?

Weeks passed as I pondered the macabre deed without any ready solution. How could I find out if it would work without making people suspicious? Then one day last week I decided on a whim to query the janitor as he helped me with a keycard issue.

“I have a gruesome question for you. If somebody were to hide a dead body underneath the pool tarp, would it remain there until Spring? Do you ever have reason to lift the tarp and look underneath?”

His eyebrows shot up into orbit, and there was a wide & wild panic to his eyes as he studied my face, trying to see if I was serious. I assured him that I was, and that I was merely curious. I smiled to allay his concerns. All was perfectly normal.

With a small bit of coaxing, he let me know that aside from checking the traps, they never touch the tarp until it's pool season again, sometime in May. I had my answer! Now I could proceed.

As I continued on my walk with a cheerful stride, I didn't let the janitor's bemused looks darken my mood. In my mind, I now knew how to get rid of my victim, and how to frame it on somebody else using the seven month buffer between the deed and when it would be discovered. My mind was racing with the new possibilities.

But the janitor knew, too. Something would have to be done about him. Hopefully, he'd wait to read the story I was writing before he called the police.

~Dˢ




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad while riding a unicycle and gargling peanut butter.


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