Mrs. Markola

The elderly woman got out of her Buick Wildcat like she was stepping down from a truck. She wore a flowered house-dress and no-nonsense shoes. When she tried to slam the car door it only squeaked loudly and remained open.

“Here,” Rusty said, trotting to her rescue. He stepped into the push and the door closed, just barely. He saw that the interior light went out.

“Now, what can we do for you?” he asked.

“Where’s Merl?”

“Merl...?” Rusty said. Merl had put a shot-gun into his mouth ten years ago. Created quite a mess on the showroom floor. “Merl’s no longer with us.”

“Bull-crap!” the woman said. “Probably in there hiding with that Crowder!”

The color drained from Rusty’s face. He realized this woman was Mrs. Markola, the old lady everyone said Merl had once terribly cheated.

Rusty looked over the woman's shoulder and saw Crowder, the owner of the lot, waving his arms and running to the back of the showroom.

“Mr. Crowder might not—“

“Bull-crap!" the woman said. "Go get him!”

****

Rusty closed the office-door and saw his ashen faced boss pacing behind his desk. When Mr. Crowder spoke, he usually spoke softly and goldfish-like. He’d say, “Now, now! Let’s not be too hasty!” and you half-expected bubbles to gurgle out of his little mouth. “Get rid of her!” Crowder hissed, now.

“She wants to talk to--”

“Get that woman off this lot!” Crowder roared very much unlike a goldfish.
.
Rusty eyed his panicky boss, "How can you live with yourself?" he asked.

“I’m not here!” Crowder said, his eyes were wide and furious.

Rusty went out.

“He here?”

Oh, yeah, he’s here,” Rusty said. “Right in there…”

Mrs. Markola headed to the showroom. Rusty un-clipped his bright green bow-tie and decided to call it a day.

-300 Words-