away himself.”
“How in tarnation did he do that?” asked the youngest deputy. He had tried for months to get Joslynn to notice him. All he wanted was a smile, yet it was One-legged Johnny who was experiencing carnal bliss.
“That’s what we were all talking about when the strangers walked in. I heard the front door tinkle, and usually I’m pretty observant when it comes to strangers, but given the news, you can’t blame me for not noticing a thing. The gals”—she pointed to a gaggle of fifty-year-olds, all just as obese as she, standing off to the right—“couldn’t stop talking about Joslynn and One-legged Johnny. I just knew as soon as her folks gave her a foreign name that the girl would be trouble. It was destined right from the moment they put that name on the birth certificate. Lynn would have been better. No one named Lynn ever gets into trouble.”
Frank, Hildy’s husband, piped up with, “The twins were purty, though.” He pulled a green John Deere hat further down on his balding head.
“What twins?” asked the sheriff.
Frank placed his right index finger in his ear and wiggled it about before answering. “The twins.”
“Two of the strangers were twins?” probed the man in charge, doing his best to maintain his cool.
“Had to be. They looked alike.” Frank stuck his left index finger into his left ear and gave it a good shake, too. “Had to be.”
“Do you think they were terrorists?” Hildy chimed in. “Why else would people blast away here?” She gestured to the cornfields. No one in this part of the country even bothered to lock their doors.
Her husband scoffed. “The man with the twins had freckles. I’ve never seen an A-Rab with freckles.”
“Have you ever seen an A-Rab, Frank?” asked his wife. She was not going to be persuaded that normal folk had anything to do with this mess. Terrorists were the only possibility.
Frank scratched the back of his head, nudging his green cap over his face. “Don’t reckon I have. But freckles and terrorists don’t jive to me.”
The sheriff probed further. “Did the man with the freckles have red hair?”
Frank shifted his weight to his left leg and stared off into the horizon. Seconds ticked by. And then more. “I don’t rightly know. Could have. That makes more sense than him being an A-Rab.” Frank didn’t look in his wife’s direction, but she knew he was directing his scorn at her.
“Now, Frank, you don’t know nothing about terrorists. They’re trying to take over the world, including our little town. Nothing else makes sense.” She walked off in a huff, keen to share the latest gossip with the gaggle of ladies. Hildy was having the most exciting day of her life.
Frank stayed put, cleaning his ear with his finger again. That was the end of their argument.
“So because of the Joslynn affair and the restaurant critic, no one saw a thing.” Disgruntled, the sheriff wandered away from the civilians and studied the parking lot.
Right next door was a gas station, and he noticed a camera above the pumps. Eyeing the direction of the camera, he hoped it had captured some of the commotion in the parking lot. “Look there, get me the video from that camera.”
The younger deputy sprang into action. Within minutes, he returned, eyes downcast.
“Well?”
“The camera ain’t working. Hasn’t for six months.” The deputy stood back. The sheriff was known for his temper. Everyone braced for the attack.
Surprisingly, the sheriff didn’t react. Hitching up his trousers by his belt, he then adjusted his gun and handcuffs and strode into the diner. At the counter, he ordered a cup of coffee. The sheriff decided to wait, to see what the state troopers found. He had done all he could do. Twins, Wally, A-Rabs, and One-legged Johnny—it was all too much.
***
In the gas station parking lot, Boyd and Otis heaved a sigh of relief. “We need to ditch this car,” stated Boyd.
Otis nodded crisply.
Boyd saw the perfect
“How in tarnation did he do that?” asked the youngest deputy. He had tried for months to get Joslynn to notice him. All he wanted was a smile, yet it was One-legged Johnny who was experiencing carnal bliss.
“That’s what we were all talking about when the strangers walked in. I heard the front door tinkle, and usually I’m pretty observant when it comes to strangers, but given the news, you can’t blame me for not noticing a thing. The gals”—she pointed to a gaggle of fifty-year-olds, all just as obese as she, standing off to the right—“couldn’t stop talking about Joslynn and One-legged Johnny. I just knew as soon as her folks gave her a foreign name that the girl would be trouble. It was destined right from the moment they put that name on the birth certificate. Lynn would have been better. No one named Lynn ever gets into trouble.”
Frank, Hildy’s husband, piped up with, “The twins were purty, though.” He pulled a green John Deere hat further down on his balding head.
“What twins?” asked the sheriff.
Frank placed his right index finger in his ear and wiggled it about before answering. “The twins.”
“Two of the strangers were twins?” probed the man in charge, doing his best to maintain his cool.
“Had to be. They looked alike.” Frank stuck his left index finger into his left ear and gave it a good shake, too. “Had to be.”
“Do you think they were terrorists?” Hildy chimed in. “Why else would people blast away here?” She gestured to the cornfields. No one in this part of the country even bothered to lock their doors.
Her husband scoffed. “The man with the twins had freckles. I’ve never seen an A-Rab with freckles.”
“Have you ever seen an A-Rab, Frank?” asked his wife. She was not going to be persuaded that normal folk had anything to do with this mess. Terrorists were the only possibility.
Frank scratched the back of his head, nudging his green cap over his face. “Don’t reckon I have. But freckles and terrorists don’t jive to me.”
The sheriff probed further. “Did the man with the freckles have red hair?”
Frank shifted his weight to his left leg and stared off into the horizon. Seconds ticked by. And then more. “I don’t rightly know. Could have. That makes more sense than him being an A-Rab.” Frank didn’t look in his wife’s direction, but she knew he was directing his scorn at her.
“Now, Frank, you don’t know nothing about terrorists. They’re trying to take over the world, including our little town. Nothing else makes sense.” She walked off in a huff, keen to share the latest gossip with the gaggle of ladies. Hildy was having the most exciting day of her life.
Frank stayed put, cleaning his ear with his finger again. That was the end of their argument.
“So because of the Joslynn affair and the restaurant critic, no one saw a thing.” Disgruntled, the sheriff wandered away from the civilians and studied the parking lot.
Right next door was a gas station, and he noticed a camera above the pumps. Eyeing the direction of the camera, he hoped it had captured some of the commotion in the parking lot. “Look there, get me the video from that camera.”
The younger deputy sprang into action. Within minutes, he returned, eyes downcast.
“Well?”
“The camera ain’t working. Hasn’t for six months.” The deputy stood back. The sheriff was known for his temper. Everyone braced for the attack.
Surprisingly, the sheriff didn’t react. Hitching up his trousers by his belt, he then adjusted his gun and handcuffs and strode into the diner. At the counter, he ordered a cup of coffee. The sheriff decided to wait, to see what the state troopers found. He had done all he could do. Twins, Wally, A-Rabs, and One-legged Johnny—it was all too much.
***
In the gas station parking lot, Boyd and Otis heaved a sigh of relief. “We need to ditch this car,” stated Boyd.
Otis nodded crisply.
Boyd saw the perfect
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