A Call For Help

John awoke to the incessant ringing of the cell phone. Who the hell is calling this early? he wondered. He turned away from his sleeping wife and answered it. “This better be good.”

“John, it’s Gary. I need your help.”

“Gary? What the hell’d you do now?”

“I can’t really say over the phone. I’m out at the Crested Arms. Can you meet me here?”

“You can’t tell me over the phone? What am I getting myself into now?”

“Just meet me here. I’ll explain it then.” Gary hung up.

John laid in bed for several minutes afterward before deciding to once again help his friend. Does Gary really have to continually play the role of troubled former child star? John wondered. Will he ever grow up and get his damn life in order? And will I ever stop running to his aid? “Hey,” John said to himself, “you wanted to be a lawyer, didn’t you?”


“John, thanks for coming,” Gary greeted his friend.

“No problem. What’s up?”

Gary opened the trunk and John peered inside. “Holy Jesus,” he said, covering his nose with one hand.

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