It had been a particularly long day at the office. When I say "long," I mean just that: Whatever possessed me to show up four hours early and leave fifteen minutes late to and from my 7:00am to 8:30pm shift is beyond me. I got nothing out of it, particularly, and with nothing else to do, I spent that extra time opening and closing a filing cabinet drawer over and over again.
And, before I forget to cover up my misleading suggestion, I do work in an office. I wasn't sure if you caught that part.
Anyway, on the drive home it occurred to me that my housekeeper might have killed the gardener while I was at work. Normally, thoughts like this don't just randomly pop into my head like that, but today I had actually overheard the housekeeper say "I'm going to kill the gardener today" while I was running out the door.
Specifically, I didn't "overhear;" rather, she pulled me aside that morning and said "I thought you might like to know that at precisely 3:48pm this afternoon, I shall commence to beating the poor gardener to death with my bare hands and/or with whatever blunt, lethal instrument might be nearby to assist."
At the time, it seemed as normal a comment to make as any. However, looking back, I might have been so inclined as to talk her out of it.
I arrived home and discovered the gardener laying face-down in the middle of my driveway, dead. He looked like he had been beaten by somebody's bare hands, and/or perhaps with whatever blunt, lethal instruments might have been nearby to assist, and it appeared to have happened around 3:48pm that afternoon.
Who could have committed such a heinous crime? I immediately rounded up the usual suspects: The Butler, The Housekeeper, a giraffe, and The Neighbor. Then I rounded up myself so that everybody knew I was being perfectly objective.
From the lineup, the gardener picked the giraffe as his murderer and the poor beast was carted off to the electric chair while the rest of us threw a party in celebration of my odometer reaching 50,000.
© 2000 kyle t.
IMPROVINOVELS
(there's like, a million to choose from)
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