The Stranger
“Who the hell does that belong to?” Jeff spat a stream of tobacco juice into the dust at his feet.
“Nobody from around here,” Larry said, pinching the brim of his Resistol and pushing it upward.
They were standing behind a strange car parked at the curb in near the square of the small Western town. The sun was baking the dusty asphalt, reflecting stifling heat back into their faces.
They stood with their hands on their hips and looked up and down the street. Jeff moved the tooth pick from one corner of his mouth to the other with his tongue.
“Maybe they went into the bank,” Larry said.
Jeff looked up the street at the brick building with the huge glass window in the front. “Reckon they’re robbin’ it?”
“Nobody robs a bank in a Prius, Einstein,” Larry replied.
“Reckon it’s that Connor boy, back from college?”
“Na. He went to Utah State. This car has a Colorado plate.”
Jeff looked down at the plate and said “Colorado.” as it were Shangri La.
“Maybe he’s a drug runner bringin’ in some of that Centennial State mar-ee-ju-wa-na.”
“Possible,” Jeff said, “The car fits the description. Lefty tree hugger and all.”
Larry pulled out his Pocket knife. “You ready?”
“Hell it was my idea. I said it when I saw the damn thing from across the street.”
“Watch for me,” Larry said and bent down and went to work. Jeff crossed his arms and leaned his butt against the car’s hatch. He looked up and down the street, whistling a Garth Brooks song.
Larry scraped and scraped for about five minutes until he finally stood up.
“Didn’t damage the bumper too much.”
Jeff looked at it “You done good. Let’s get outta here.”
The two men walked away, leaving the shredded bumper sticker lying on the asphalt.
The End