They found their bodies slumped towards each other, her head nearly in his lap. His upper body was thrown over hers as if protecting her from a falling bomb.
When the police finally lifted his body up and away from her and the steering wheel, they saw what had been unmistakably happening at the moment of the crash. His pants zipper was down completely. In fact, his jeans had been shimmied down several inches so that he was sitting on the waist of his pants and his belt.
His penis, just as dead as he was, lay inert but bursting through the slit of his white and blue checked boxers. It was pointing towards her as if to say, “It was her fault.”
Of course, they’d never know whose fault it was. In fact, after the police made the expected jokes among themselves, they managed to put all in its place so no one in the gossipy town would have the “did you hear” story to tell.
There still would be a sad story, for certain, but not the kind that humiliates or embarrasses those left living.
When they were identified as good friends and neighbors who'd told their spouses they were leaving the party early to "relieve the babysitter," it seemed even more fortunate that the police had taken the precautions they had.
No comments:
Post a Comment