Serendipitous Positions

SERENDIPITOUS POSITIONS By Chance Strickland 2005

2005Š All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

CHAPTER 1 The sign to Pleasantine wavered in the distance, barely visible amidst mountain landscape. The white letters seemed to bounce on the green sign, as the branches of the many pine trees ebbed and flowed across them.

“Man I fuckin’ hate this hole in the wall place” said Mr. Tom as he pulled a cigarette from his pack and lit it.

“Tell me about it”, agreed Mr. John, his gaze wavering cooling around the dense forest that surrounded them.

“I mean, I wonder what it’s like to eek out a existence in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, and like, to know you’ll never really go anywhere in life, just . . . sit here, it would fuckin’ kill me, you know?”

“Yep, we’ve only been here once and I can’t stand this place . . . but, ah . . . who’re we killing this time?” inquired Mr. John.

Mr. Tom pulled his briefcase up to his lap, opened it and pulled out a manila folder. “We are gonna blow the brains out of . . . Jesus Christ!”

“Hey, ya know, I really don’t think that type of shit is funny man. I happen to be religious and . . .”

“No, relax, take a look at the picture of the broad we gotta kill, it’s almost . . . like . . . wrong."

Mr. Tom handed the photography to Mr. John. He looked it over. It was a picture of a gorgeous woman of about 23. She looked at the camera out of sultry blue eyes. Her brunette hair fell playfully about her shoulders, and then disappeared behind her back. Her carefree smile revealed a set of perfect teeth with the exception of one canine that was slightly rotated; only adding character to her beauty. It was only a shot from the waist up, but from the look of how nicely her chest led to her slender waist, your imagination could easily fill in the rest.

Mr. John looked the picture over one more time. Then he spoke; “Yeah, I just say, she’s a gorgeous specimen of the female persuasion but, business is business, and our business is the taking of life for payment of debt so, the ladies’ gotta die.”

“Yep, so true, you know, that’s the most poetic way I’ve heard hit man biz ever described.”

“Well, my poetic indiscretions usually fall upon deaf ears, so it’s nice to know you are appreciated.”

“Uh . . . Yeah, sure, any time ol’ time man.”

“By the way, what’s the marked ladies name?”

“Uhhh . . .” Mr. Tom took the picture out and turned it over. “Hazel. Hazel . . . that’s kinda hot, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s unique. Hazel, I’ve never killed anyone named Hazel.”

They drove past the “Welcome to Pleasantine, Oregon sign and made and their way into town.

2005© All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

CHAPTER 2 Hazel awoke around 12:00. She rolled lazily out of bed. She walked over to the mirror and stood in front of it.

She picked up a comb, looked at it then threw it back on the floor. She walked into the bathroom, hopped up on the sink and lit a cigarette. She took a drag then looked at the cherry. Suddenly she didn’t want a cigarette any more. She threw it in the toilet and walked back into her bedroom. She picked up a shirt that was hanging on her bed post, threw it on, then picked up a pair of jeans and threw those on as well.

She walked slowly to the table in the corner of her room and picked up her cell phone. 6 missed calls.

Fucking addicts. They clung to her like leaches. She hated dealing with them but that was her own fault. She had chosen a profession that involved constant yet random encounters with those pale, sickly individuals who relied on her to supply their fix. Then again, heroin dealer wasn’t the most illustrious profession to begin with. But there was much money to be made on some of the inhabitants of this bum-fuck town. Especially because she didn’t indulge in the nasty habit herself. Nope, just profited off the misfortunate predicament they had put themselves in. And all to one day pick up and move out of Pleasantine. Well, hopefully.

Hazel went to the closet and grabbed a tackle box from the top shelf. Time to collect. She went to the back door so no one would see her leave and as she left she looked at the clock. It was 12:30.

2

CHAPTER 3 Clarence tossed and turned in his bed. He lay there and stared at the rays of sunlight that protracted through the holes in his blinds. If he wanted to, he’d lie there all day. Because, really, there was no point to him getting out of bed, none at all. What reason did he have to go out into a world that gave him the love of his life then, cruelly and brutally stole her back? No reason he could think of at the moment anyway. He couldn’t really think of anything but the last image of his wife. Disturbing mental pictures of that horrid day when he walked into his house only to find his wife, riddled with bullet holes, slumped over the living room table, her needle and spoon lying casually next to her cold, dead body.

He knew heroin might have killed her one day, but he never would have thought it would be like that.

“Why . . . why would somebody just kill her?” He thought to himself. Did she owe someone money? Did she steal from someone? WHAT!!?? What did she do that made her deserve to die!!?!? He would never know.

From that day forward all Clarence could ever know was sadness. All he could ever feel was frustration and anguish. He loved her so much, so whole-heartedly, and they took her, they destroyed the only thing that ever mattered to him . . . ever; murdered the only person that he loved and who had actually loved him back. And what hurt him the most, what ate him up inside, what made everything else in his little world slowly fade away and not matter anymore was that he would never know who did it, or why.

So now he lay in an empty bed, the crease in the mattress her body had made still next to him, always reminding him of what he had and would never have again.

Suddenly a reason to leave his bed crept into mind. He still had one friend in this cruel world. Just one. His name was Jack Daniels. Clarence’s mouth began to water. Yes, a bottle of jack would do quite nicely right about now.

Slowly Clarence began to pull himself out of bed. He put on some pants and his old black Slayer shirt. Now was the time to venture outside, into the world he would go. He checked his pockets for money and walked towards the door. He took a deep breath, let it out, then he opened the door.

3

CHAPTER 4 Mr. Tom sat in the passenger seat fidgeting. He shifted in his seat, crossed his legs, uncrossed them, and crossed them again. Mr. John took his eyes off the road and looked at Mr. Tom. “Jesus Christ man, what in the fuck is your dysfunction?”

“I need a cigarette like . . . NOW!” “Those are gonna kill ya, you know?”

“No, I’ve never heard that before, thanks so fuckin’ much. If it weren’t for you I’d probably smoke those for the rest of my life and die satisfied!”

“I was just tellin’ ya.”

“Yeah, you’re a regular goddamn savior. Can we stop somewhere, like, at that store up there?”

“Well, I suppose so, but make it quick, remember, we got and things to do.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Mr. John pulled the car into the parking lot. Mr. Tom went to get out of the car.

“Mr. Tom”, Mr. John said.

“What?”

“You’re just getting cigarettes, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because, whatever you do, under no circumstances, none whatsoever, do not rob this place.”

Mr. Tom smiled a bit at this. “Yeah, of course.”

“I’m dead serious. Don’t rob this place and don’t kill anybody either. That is just what we need, another homicide, alright?”

“Riiiight . . . no robbing and no killing, got it. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Don’t do it Mr. Tom, don’t fuck this up!”

“I said I won’t for chrissakes, pipe down old man.”

Mr. Tom walked to the door of the liquor store, stopped before the door, straightened his black tie that complimented his black suit and walked in. He looked around noticing the dusty shelves; noticing the off-brand products the store held probably because it was cheaper to get those and make a profit. It was dimly lit in the liquor store. You could see the dust particles floating through the air where the sun shone through the windows.

It smelt of old leather and booze in the store.

Tom looked to see who was in the store. Only one customer at the moment. He sized up said customer; about 5’4”, malnourished, unshaven, in a black Slayer shirt. Shouldn’t be a problem. Now for the cashier; old. No wait, really fucking old, maybe older. Probably has a gun of some sort under the counter.

Well, now for the fun to begin. Mr. Tom, after hearing the spiel from Mr. John, was overcome by an urge. Mr. Tom had always been an impulsive man and had never liked to be told what to do. So, when an urge came, Mr. Tom usually liked to act on it.

Such was the case now. Mr. Tom pulled out both his guns from the holsters at his back.

“All right, how are you folks today?” asked Mr. Tom. “Wait, don’t answer that ‘cause I don’t really fuckin’ care. Now, I don’t know if you small town folk know what’s goin’ on at the moment so I’ll tell ya. You’re being fuckin’ robbed so, if you don’t mind, get down on the ground.”

4

The man in the black Slayer shirt kneeled down but the cashier just stood looking at Mr. Tom. “You got a problem old man? Are . . . are you deaf? You need me to say it louder? GET THE FUCK DOWN!!”

The cashier stood there, a smug look on his face. Then he spoke. “You got a lot of balls for a city boy, comin’ in here with your shiny guns thinkin’ your hot shit. Well you know what I think city boy?”

Mr. Tom just stood there, getting more agitated by the moment. Did this guy want to get shot? Did he have some kind of death wish?

The old man answered his own question; “I think you’re really some yuppie pussy who’s daddy paid for college but you were too busy fucking around to care so you think doing this will make you some kind of badass.”

At that moment the cashier, who had been inching his way to the left while delivering his speech quickly, and quite deftly, pulled a .45 out and blindly fired it at Mr. Tom. Mr. Tom ducked down and unloaded two rounds at the front counter. The sound of shattering glass filled the store. The cashier popped up and fired off two more rounds. They whizzed by Mr. Tom and exploded into the fountain drink machine sending soda and sparks flying everywhere. Mr. Tom crawled over to the man in the black Slayer shirt who was curled up into a little ball by the counter.

“Get up, get up right now!”

Mr. Tom picked up the man and put a gun to his head.

“All right, I am now officially done fucking around with you, now get up . . .GET UP!” The cashier slowly put his head above the counter.

“Throw your gun to me now and don’t try any slick shit or, I swear to God, I will blow . . . I’ll blow . . . what’s your name man?”

“C… Clarence” whimpered the man in the black Slayer shirt.

“Clarence . . . I will splatter Clarence’s brain all over your shitty little counter.”

The cashier threw his gun over the counter.

“Now, give me whatever is in the register.”

The cashier opened the drawer and handed the money to Mr. Tom. “$50,… 50… Are you serious?” all you have in your register is $50 bucks?”

The cashier turned the machine around to show it was empty.

“FUCK!” yelled Mr. Tom, “well… Shit… Clarence what did you come here for?”

“Uhh. . . A bottle of Jack Daniels.”

“Well, no shit, give us a bottle of Jack then, and will be on our way.”

The cashier got down and the bottle and handed it to Clarence who still stood with Mr. Tom’s gun to his head.

“Why, thank you” said Mr. Tom. They then slowly began to back out. Mr. Tom stopping right before the door. “Oh, and you know what I think, you old, decrepit, small time shit kicker?”

The cashier stood there glaring at Mr. Tom. Mr. Tom then proceeded to unload four rounds into the cashier.

Clarence whimpered and flinched with every shot. The cashier flew back against the wall, then his body slumped to the floor.”

“C’mon Clarence, let’s go.”

5

Mr. Tom, still holding his gun to Clarence’s head exited the store carrying Clarence with him. They walked to the car.

6

CHAPTER 5 Hazel walked breezily down the street. She looked up the street to the four houses that stood solemnly on the block, like lone statues of what could have been but never was. To her left were the woods. Her phone kept ringing but she didn’t feel like answering it. She hated dealing with her “clients” more than she had to.

Suddenly she felt like taking a detour. She started walking on a dirt path that led into the woods. The path was a little creepy, but she had walked it many times. As she walked she pushed brush aside and moved tree branches to make her way. Finally she reached her desired destination. She sat by little creek that flowed down from the mountains. She looked around at the vast expanse of the forest. The smell of sap and pine refreshed her as she sat there.

Her phone started ringing again. She took it out and turned it off. The trickling sound of the stream seemed so loud amongst the serene silence of nature. Hazel pulled out a cigarette and lit it. She sat collecting her thoughts. The branches of the pine trees draped down like a ripped green canopy. And so she sat, collecting her thoughts. She puffed her cigarette, lost in thought. What was she really doing here? Will she ever get out of her little town or would she be forever stuck in this rut?

These cigarettes were a horrible habit. This last thought made sense to her. She flicked the cigarette into the creek. She sat and watched as it flowed steadily along, bobbling up and down in the slowly moving water.

Well, it seemed she had stalled long enough. She picked up her tackle box and began to make her way back to the road, and back on the way to her first “client”.

7

CHAPTER 6 Tobin sat on his couch, fidgeting, growing more impatient by the moment. Where the hell was Hazel at? God, she always took her sweet-ass time getting to his house to deliver his “junk”. So, he sat waiting, scratching his neck flipping through the channels. He had already called her like, four times. She never answered her phone, this pissed him off a great deal. Why would you even have a cell phone if you weren’t gonna answer it? That’s utterly pointless and how good did shooting up sound to Tobin at that moment? Real good… FUCK… Where was she?

 � Mr. John pulled out of the liquor store parking lot.

“What did I tell you?” he screamed at Mr. Tom. “What were the specific directions I gave you? Huh? I’m pretty sure it wasn’t; rob that store, kill the god damn clerk, and take a hostage. Nope, that’s not what I said at all!?”

“Relax, all we gotta do is take care of that broad and get out of here.”

“Relax? Oh, OK, it’s just that easy. That’s all it takes. All I gotta do is calm down. Are you fucking retarded?

Is there something wrong with you? You probably brought down so much heat on us that we only have a couple hours to kill the girl and leave. Do you realize the pressure that puts us under? Do you have any idea how quickly we have to act?”

“We'll do it, no problem man.” Mr. Tom snapped his fingers, like nothin’.”

 Tobin began pacing around the room. He lit a cigarette. This was too much, she better have some kind of deal for him. 30 minutes or its free. God, he hated waiting.

 “So who’s the fella in the back?” inquired Mr. John.

“UHH, Chris, Corey?”

“Clarence,” he said sitting up in the back seat, “my name’s Clarence.”

“Yeah, Clarence,” said Mr. Tom looking back at Mr. John.

“I heard the kid,” said Mr. John, becoming somewhat annoyed. “Well it’s nice to meet you kid. Just sit back there and everything will be all right.”

Mr. Tom let out a little snicker.

“So... you guys… you guys have to kill someone?” inquired Clarence meekly.

“Yeah, but it’s just business,” said Mr. John calmly.

“What do you mean, are you guys like, hit men?”

“Something like that.”

“Oh...” Clarence sat back in his seat.

 8

Tobin couldn’t stand it anymore. He went outside to see if she was walking up the street. Nope, nobody coming up the street, not a soul to be seen. The wind blew breezily. But out of the corner of his eye, Tobin spied a cigarette blowing in the middle of the street. Sweet, free cigarettes. Tobin started walking toward it.

 “So, do you guys like, kill people all the time?” asked Clarence.

“Yeah,” said Mr. Tom turning around. “But it’s not like we’re cold blooded killers or anything like that.”

Mr. John let out a little laugh. “Right?” Mr. Tom looked at Mr. John, ”right?”

“We’re murderers Mr. Tom, there’s no way around it. You can say it anyway you want to but it all means the same thing.” Mr. Tom scratched his head, “What I’m getting at... what I’m trying to say is... shit... like, a month ago we killed this lady, and, you know, I felt kind of bad about it and all. Like it went away and everything, but it still felt kind of shitty, ‘cause like, when I kill people I,” “Who was she?” Clarence quickly asked, cutting off Mr. Tom’s speech.

“Oh, the lady we took care of? Just some heroin addict. She lived up here, I don’t know, you might have known her.”

At that moment Clarence burst into tears.

“Oh shit, man did you know her? Was she a friend or something?” asked Mr. Tom. Clarence looked up at the man talking to him.

“She was... she was, my wife,” he said between sobs.

“Damn it! This is why you have to keep your mouth shut!” Mr. John yelled at Mr. Tom. “You run your mouth, this is what happens! From now on you need to just shut the fuck up! Seriously man.”

“Yeah, I’ll look into it.” Mr. Tom turned around to look at Clarence. “Man I’m... I’m sorry?” Mr. Tom looked at Mr. John, they exchanged confused glances. Mr. John shrugged. He turned around as well to try and console Clarence, taking his eyes off the road.

“You know it’s nothing personal, right?” He said. “It was just business.”

Clarence just sat there with his head in his hands.

 Tobin squatted down. A cigarette sounded great at the moment. He picked it up, it was menthol. Great, he hated menthols. He flicked it away and stood up. Then at that moment... BAM!!!

“Oh Shit!” yelled Mr. Tom. Mr. John flung around quickly looking at road again. He slammed on the brakes.

“That was a person, wasn’t it?” said Mr. John.

“Hell yeah!,” Exclaimed Mr. Tom. “You just ran down some guy, fuckin plowed him!”

“Shit!” Mr. John looked around, “I don't see him, you sure I hit a person?”

“Pretty sure.”

Mr. John began to back up. He went several feet before hearing ka-thump!! “Ha... there he is.” said Mr. John. “Mr. Tom, pop the trunk.”

9

CHAPTER 7 Hazel made her way up to Tobin’s house. The street was eerily quiet. She walked to his door and knocked.

Several seconds passed and nobody came. She knocked again and still no answer. Wasn’t this just peachy? He calls 50 million times and when she finally arrives he decides to make himself scarce.

She looked to see if the door was unlocked, it was, so she let herself in. “Tobin, Tobin, you home?” no answer. “That fucker. Now what?” she thought. She went back outside. Then something caught her eye. A cigarette. She went to pick it up then something else caught her eye. Next to the cigarette was a puddle of blood.

How odd. Hazel picked up the cigarette and lit it. Menthol, it’ll do, for free.

Well, no drugs for Tobin today. Hazel made her way down the street to try and get rid of the rest of her merchandise.

10

CHAPTER 8 “Now what are we supposed to do? We’re screwed man, literally. Like a we’re gonna have to spend all night digging holes and you’re probably right, I shouldn’t have robbed that liquor store or killed that clerk.”

“Or taken that hostage... Fuckin’moron.”

While they sat bickering Clarence lay in the back silent. What a predicament life had put him in. Here he sat with the two men who had killed his wife and who are now going to most likely kill him. Hatred and sadness boiled inside him. The men who had taken the only thing that ever mattered to him we’re now arguing about some insipid matter that meant nothing at all to Clarence. It was at this exact moment that he began to hate the two men in front of him. They came into his life and destroyed it and really, they couldn’t care less. It meant nothing to them, it was just business. How could they be so careless? So thoughtless? It baffled Clarence. These two bastards just carelessly went about murdering people blissfully unaware of the pain and mental anguish they created. Oh how he hated them, he despised them. But there was nothing he could do about it, nothing at all.

11

CHAPTER 9 Hazel walked down the road. What a day; a day like all the others. She gazed up the sky. Why did nothing spectacular ever happen to her? Was she going to spend the rest of her existence in Pleasantine? Hopefully not ‘cause that would suck. A lot. Oh well, it could have been worse. But she wished it would get better. Maybe one day.

 “Alright, it’s time to stop with the play time” said Mr. John. “We have to find this Hazel chick and do what we do, take care of crybaby in the back, road kill in the trunk and get outta here.”

“Yeah” said Mr. Tom, “and quickly.”

They pulled off the road and onto a dirt road. They drove it for a bit and came upon a lone shack in the middle of the woods that they’d been driving in for quite some time.

“OK, that women should do quite nicely,” said Mr. John as he put the car in park. He turned around to face Clarence. “Look,” he said, “I personally have nothing against you, my partner here has nothing against you; but we have to kill ya, we just have to, you understand? It’s just business that’s all, just business”.

“Yeah,” chimed in Mr. Tom, “business... C’mon, let’s go!”

They exited the car and made their way to the old shack. The cool dusk air blew across the trees as they made their way to it. Clarence looked up to the moon. This would be the last time he would see it. How ironic was this? Getting murdered by the same two men that had taken his wife. Who’d have thought? Not Clarence.

“All right Clarence, we like you, so we’ll do this quickly,” said Mr. John.

“Yeah, plus we still have to take care of that Hazel chick, so we don’t have much time, but basically because we like you.”

They led Clarence to a fireplace and put him on his knees. He sat there looking up at his captors.

“You know,” said Mr. John “It would be a lot easier if you don’t face us.”

Clarence turned around and faced the fireplace. Mr. John and Mr. Tom looked at each other.

“Me or you?” said Mr. Tom. “I’ll do it”, said Mr. John Clarence closed his eyes and waited. The silence in the room was deafening. The seconds dropped away slowly. Suddenly the cocking of a shotgun brought Clarence back to reality.

“Just what the hell do you boys think you’re doin’?” said an old, gruff voice from behind. They all abruptly turned around to see who it was. Standing before them was an old man of about 60 clad in a plaid shirt and overalls. “Y’all boys fixin’ to spray his head all over my fireplace?” asked the old man.

“Something along those lines,” replied Mr. John. Mr. Tom looked at Mr. John.

“I thought this place was abandoned.”

“Apparently not,” said Mr. John.

“I suggest you boys throw your guns to me, or it’ll be y’all’s groins on my fireplace. They threw their guns toward the old man. He gestured toward Clarence, “You can get up now son, their guns ain’t locked on ya no more”. Clarence got up and walked toward the old man.

“Well,” said the old man, “Whatta’ ya reckon we should do with these boys?” Clarence looked at them. He grabbed the shotgun from the old man.

“I know what I want to do,” he said.

12

“Well all right then I guess I’ll go get some shovels, ” said the old man. Clarence raised the gun.

“Clarence, listen, it doesn’t have to end this way,” said Mr. Tom. “You can...” Clarence pulled the trigger before Mr. Tom could finish. He flew back against the wall as the shell exploded into Mr. Tom’s chest and out of his back. Mr. John stood there silently. Clarence cocked the gun again. He raised it.

“I just want you to know it was all just business,” said Mr. John solemnly, “nothing personal.”

“Oh, I know,” replied Clarence.

He then pulled the trigger. Mr. John was thrown back against the wall by the impact. Blood splattered against the wall and trickled down to the floor.

Clarence stood there and looked at the two slumped bodies. Satisfaction filled Clarence. He stood with a smile that went from ear to ear. The old man entered the room.

“Well, we got some diggin’ to do son and I suggest we start now.

“Alright dad, let’s get to it,” replied Clarence.

“So, them boys thought this was just some abandoned shack in the woods they could take you to and off ya?” asked the old man.

“Yep, that’s basically it.””

“Well, I know it ain’t the fuckin’ Ritz Carlton, but I’d didn’t think it was no Unabomber shack either.”

“Guess they did.”

“I know it, do ya mind me askin’, what the hell were they gonna shoot ya for anyhow?”

Clarence took a deep breath, “It’s a long story.” And with that he began to drag the bodies outside.

 Hazel looked up at the evening sky. It sure was beautiful in Oregon at dusk. The orange horizon drifted up and turned slowly pink. The evening stars were beginning to shine bringing blue into the pink rimmed horizon. It was starting to get chilly. Time to make her way home. Same old shit. Tomorrow would probably be the same to.

How monotonous. Hazel was craving a change. A change of life, a change of scenery, anything really. That would be quite nice indeed. Hazel began to walk home.

 Clarence got into the hit men’s car. ” I suggest you lay low for a while,” said the old man.

“Yes, I’ll take a vacation or something,” replied Clarence.

“Yeah, you do that. All right, be safe kid.”

“Thanks for the help, pops.”

“Anytime,” said the old man as he walked back to his house.

Clarence looked around the car. He spied a briefcase lying on the seat. He picked it up, opened it and looked inside. It was filled with money. Bankrolls of twenties and fifties filled most of the briefcase. There was at least $50,000 just lying before him. Also, sitting on top of the money were two pictures. He picked up one and looked at it. It was of his wife. He looked it over for a moment. Then he folded it up and put it in his pocket. He picked up the other photograph marked “Hazel”. He turned it around. So this was the infamous “Hazel”. She was quite attractive, yes, she was a looker indeed. Clarence thought to himself, “bet she has no idea she was supposed to die today. Lucky her.” He closed the briefcase and started the car.

13

 Hazel walked slowly down the road. She turned around to see headlights behind her. Suddenly the car began to slow down. It pulled up next to her. Hazel looked into see man in a black shirt.

“Where ya headin’?” he asked.

“Oh... home . . . and you?”

“As far from this place as is humanly possible,” he replied.

Hazel laughed. “Sounds good... You look familiar,” she said.

Clarence grinned, “I should say the same thing, you need a ride?”

“Sure... but... actually, I’d kinda like to leave this place to; get outta here.”

“Well, hop on in, ‘cause that’s where I’m goin’, outta here.”

“Great,” she said as she entered the car. And off they went. Hazel sat there, looking out the window, all the while thinking that life had a funny way of working out.

14