Two idiots, a dead body, and a love of John Hughes…

“So, where exactly did you hide the body?”

“I didn’t. I just left it there.”

“On his front porch?”

“The bastard deserved what he got. I don’t have to fuckin‘ move him. Let him rot.”

“Refresh my memory: Why exactly did you shoot him in the first place?”

“That asshole made fun of my threads. He wouldn’t stop laughin‘ so I shot him. Bang bang. Boom boom.”

“Wait, what? You shot him because he made fun of your clothes?”

“Yeah. So?”

“I thought it was self defense! That’s why I rushed down here! You telling me you shot him because he made fun of you? What are you? A fuckin‘ twelve-year-old?”

“So, what? You sayin‘ I was wrong?”

“Hell yeah!”

“Oh, but it didn’t bother you when I sent you that text sayin‘ I killed Jerry. I mean, I’ll admit it wasn’t a noble reason to off the guy, but, hey, what’s done is done.”

“Okay, first of all, I thought you were in trouble. That’s why I rushed over to your place. It’s not every day I get a text from my best friend in the middle of the night saying he committed a murder. Second of all, Jerry was crazy. I thought he might have roughed you up or something. I told you not to go out with him in the first place.”

“Oh, please. It was nothin‘. We were just going to check out that new bar on Tremont Ave. You know, grab a few drinks, maybe a few asses. Just typical shit. I didn’t plan this!”

“Well…at least you had plans tonight. I haven’t been out in ages. How was the bar?”

“I don’t know. Never made it off the bastard’s porch. After I got to his house, he opened the door, took one look at me, and asked if Barry Manilow knew that I raided his wardrobe. He wouldn’t stop gigglin‘ just like a little girl. That pissed me off, so I shot him and got the hell outta dodge.”

“He quoted The Breakfast Club? That’s what set you off? You’re priceless…”

“Look, I know it sounds dumb as hell but–“

“No. There’s no ‘but.’ It is dumb as hell. And why did you have a damn gun anyway? Since when do you carry a piece?”

“Since I knew I was going out with Jerry. You know he’s crazy. Never met a man who loved to fight as much as he did.”

“Yeah, he loved to fight all right. And don’t quote me, but I’m pretty sure he loved breathing, too. So, the question remains: What are you gonna do? I mean, you’re officially a murderer. You should probably have a plan or something.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I do. It’s not too late. I’m going to that bar. Then I’m gonna get shit-faced, find me a woman, and prove to Jerry that I look fly.”

“How are you gonna prove that? He’s dead.”

“Okay, now you’re just splittin‘ hairs.”

“Whatever, dude. Look, I’m goin‘ back home to get some sleep. Good luck proving the dead guy wrong. Oh! Before I forget, you should probably think about leaving town soon. Cops don’t normally like murderers hanging around running free.”

“Yeah, yeah. Later man.”

“Later.”

 

**This is my first attempt at writing a story with nothing but dialogue. To say the least, it took a hard left turn. For better or for worse? Not sure…