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Out of Gas
“I’ll get you, Rechesk!” screamed John Jones. My father took John’s role in Iowa’s most watched T.V show. “I’ll get revenge on you!” John screamed again.
15 years later… at Mobilgas Station:
Martin was changing the gas prices, and I was handing him the letters. “Cynthia, I need to tell you something I should have told you a long time ago. Your father passed away three months ago,” Martin said slowly.
“No! Why didn’t you tell me right away?” I said weakly. I ran to my car and took my wallet out of my purse. There was my father’s picture.
“He was a handsome man,” Martin said.
“He was a hunk and a strong man, too,” I said between sobs.
Inside the station, Fat Joe, the cop, was taking a break from his crime fighting. “Nnnnuuuuuummmm…” said Fat Joe as he bit into a glazed doughnut.
“You have to pay before you eat the doughnut!” screamed Jonas Jones, the cashier at the station.
“Ah, kid, don’t worry, I’ll put it on the gas bill,” Fat Joe grunted with doughnut crumbs falling from his mouth. He grabbed yet another doughnut. “NNNnnnnnnnuuuuuuuuummmmmmm,” Fat Joe said, “jelly filled,” and finally he left.
I saw Fat Joe come out eating his doughnut. “Hey Cynthia! I saw a rerun of your father’s best show,” he said. I almost started to cry, holding it in my throat was beginning to hurt. I couldn’t answer with words, so I just looked away and walked to my car to spend some time by myself. I just stood there by my car and watched him from a distance until he drove away. Then I decided to go to a movie to get my mind off of my problems.
After the movie I drove home, it was around seven o’clock. Not suspecting an unwelcome visitor, I cooked dinner and watched T.V. They were mostly my dad’s shows, which made me very sad. I got ready for bed, then something happened. I heard something under my bed, and the next thing I knew there was a strange man in a robber’s outfit standing right next to me. He pulled out a knife and thrust it at my throat. I ducked and the masked man’s knife clashed with the wall. I screamed as he pulled his knife out of the wall. “Why kill me?” I said with a whimper.
“Unfinished business,” he said in a low manly tone. Then he thrust the knife at me once again. This time it was right on target---my throat! “You’re out of gas now, Cynthia,” he said, and laughed an evil laugh.
“Uuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh”, I wailed as I fell to my untimely death. I felt myself get lighter and saw through the outfit of the masked man.
At Watch from Above;
It was Jonas Jones, the cashier at the gas station. But why? And then I remembered that my father took Jonas’ father’s role in Iowa’s most-watched TV show. I guess the Joneses had always been jealous of my father and his part. Since my father died three months ago, Jonas must have decided that I was the perfect target: the daughter of Theodore Rechesk.
I watched Jonas from my heavenly perch and saw him placing the evidence in a hole by Martin’s house. I tried to say something, but nothing happened. And I remembered that I was dead.
The next day, the landlord came to my apartment and I heard a gasp. He looked and I looked and there my body was, laying there on the floor. Immediately the landlord called the police. He started wailing, “Noooo, Cynthia. You didn’t give me the last month’s rent!!!!”. Then he got up and searched my room frantically for the money. I was very angry and displeased.
Fat Joe, the policeman, was having a little fun at the gas station, pretending to be the cashier. He pushed buttons randomly and one made a “ding” then the register tray popped open. He saw Jonas’ plan to murder Cynthia in words and a diagram! Fat Joe said, “I wonder when he’s going to murder her? I have to keep her safe!”
When Fat Joe got to Cynthia’s apartment he saw that she had already been murdered and he knew who it was. So Fat Joe raced to Jonas’ house and grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt. Fat Joe said, “You’re out of gas now, Jonas!”
“You haven’t seen the last of me yet,” Jonas screamed.
I watched Jonas’ trials with pride, thinking that it was right for the dirty man to be sentenced to life in prison.