Three Way
By Thomas Sullivan
“Oh yeah baby, we’ve got us a winner. This one should be easy to roll. Jane! C’mere, check this out!”
Jane scampers up, puts her head next to mine, and looks at the screen. I catch a whiff of her breath, which smells like something died in her mouth. Jane laughs as she reads the Craigslist ad out loud.
“For sale. 24 carat diamond wedding ring. excellent condition. must sell due to husband’s recent death. $500 obo.”
“Awww, that is so sad.”
Jane smiles through crooked teeth and slaps my shoulder in congratulations. She scoots over to the kitchen table, grabs her sunglasses and a roll of duct tape, and shouts “Party time!” I jot down the address and grab a baseball bat before joining her. We shuffle out of our decaying shit-box of an apartment, descend the creaking stairs, and fast-walk to the Econovan.
I hop behind the wheel, say a quick prayer, and turn the key.
Nothing.
I curse, pump the gas, and try again.
Bingo.
The van shudders to life. We squeal away from the curb and start heading for the other side of town. The good side. Ten minutes later we leave behind the pawn shops and payday lenders and enter a leafy suburb on the edge of downtown. Jane directs me to the right street and starts scanning addresses. She finds the correct one, points toward a house, and commands me to pull over.
We sit for a moment, staring at a small yellow bungalow with a perfectly manicured lawn. A small stone squirrel sits playfully next to a bird feeder and a pink flamingo. I look at the porch and see a horse pulling a wooden cart filled with flowers. I laugh.
“Oh yeah, this is how we like it.”
We exit the van and march up to the front door. I stand on a flowery welcome mat and ring the bell. From behind the door I hear a frail, high-pitched voice yell “Hold on, I’m coming.” A moment later the door swings open. I gaze into a living room filled with knickknacks before looking down at a four-foot-tall woman gripping a walker.
Sweet Jesus we’ve struck gold.
I work up a serious but kind voice and say “Hello mam, we’re here about the ring. Sorry we didn’t call first, I hope this time is okay.”
The old woman pivots the walker and starts to creep back toward the living room.
“Come in, come in … can I get you two a glass of milk?”
Jane jabs an elbow in my ribs and smiles as we enter the musty house.
“No, but thank you. We won’t be long.”
Jane closes the door. The woman swivels the walker and looks at us. I reach behind me and grab the bat from my belt.
“Give us the ring bitch.”
The woman’s face flashes a startled expression.
“Young man, what on earth are you doing?”
She starts trembling. Then suddenly she stops shaking and gets perfectly still. She points a bony finger at me and starts laughing.
What the hell?
The woman smiles and says “Ooh, this should be fun.”
She claps her hands and yells “Boys!!!”
Three enormous pit bulls burst out of a bedroom and race toward Jane and me. They jar to a halt two feet in front of us and start growling. I stare at the animals and raise the bat, preparing to fight.
“Young man, if I were you I‘d drop the bat…if you want to keep any of your leg meat, that is.”
I look at the three sets of enormous, dripping teeth and drop the bat next to a wicker basket filled with old copies of Ladies Home Journal.
The old woman grins and stares at Jane and I. She digs a hand under her shawl and brings out two trackball headsets. She tosses one to Jane and one to me.
“Put these on if you want to get out of here alive.”
We start complying.
The woman reaches into her pocket. She drags out a dildo and attaches it to the cross bar on her walker. The she drags out a second one and snaps it onto the bar at the other end. She commands us to drop our pants and turn around.
As Jane and I are turning the woman starts pushing the walker towards us. She flashes a toothless smile and chuckles before saying “And to think that I used to have to pay for this.”
- - -
Thomas Sullivan‘s writing has appeared in Word Riot and 3AM Magazine, among others. He is the author of Life In The Slow Lane, a comic memoir about teaching drivers education. For info on this title, and to view more of Thomas’ writing, please visit his author website at http://thomassullivanhumor.com.
By Thomas Sullivan
“Oh yeah baby, we’ve got us a winner. This one should be easy to roll. Jane! C’mere, check this out!”
Jane scampers up, puts her head next to mine, and looks at the screen. I catch a whiff of her breath, which smells like something died in her mouth. Jane laughs as she reads the Craigslist ad out loud.
“For sale. 24 carat diamond wedding ring. excellent condition. must sell due to husband’s recent death. $500 obo.”
“Awww, that is so sad.”
Jane smiles through crooked teeth and slaps my shoulder in congratulations. She scoots over to the kitchen table, grabs her sunglasses and a roll of duct tape, and shouts “Party time!” I jot down the address and grab a baseball bat before joining her. We shuffle out of our decaying shit-box of an apartment, descend the creaking stairs, and fast-walk to the Econovan.
I hop behind the wheel, say a quick prayer, and turn the key.
Nothing.
I curse, pump the gas, and try again.
Bingo.
The van shudders to life. We squeal away from the curb and start heading for the other side of town. The good side. Ten minutes later we leave behind the pawn shops and payday lenders and enter a leafy suburb on the edge of downtown. Jane directs me to the right street and starts scanning addresses. She finds the correct one, points toward a house, and commands me to pull over.
We sit for a moment, staring at a small yellow bungalow with a perfectly manicured lawn. A small stone squirrel sits playfully next to a bird feeder and a pink flamingo. I look at the porch and see a horse pulling a wooden cart filled with flowers. I laugh.
“Oh yeah, this is how we like it.”
We exit the van and march up to the front door. I stand on a flowery welcome mat and ring the bell. From behind the door I hear a frail, high-pitched voice yell “Hold on, I’m coming.” A moment later the door swings open. I gaze into a living room filled with knickknacks before looking down at a four-foot-tall woman gripping a walker.
Sweet Jesus we’ve struck gold.
I work up a serious but kind voice and say “Hello mam, we’re here about the ring. Sorry we didn’t call first, I hope this time is okay.”
The old woman pivots the walker and starts to creep back toward the living room.
“Come in, come in … can I get you two a glass of milk?”
Jane jabs an elbow in my ribs and smiles as we enter the musty house.
“No, but thank you. We won’t be long.”
Jane closes the door. The woman swivels the walker and looks at us. I reach behind me and grab the bat from my belt.
“Give us the ring bitch.”
The woman’s face flashes a startled expression.
“Young man, what on earth are you doing?”
She starts trembling. Then suddenly she stops shaking and gets perfectly still. She points a bony finger at me and starts laughing.
What the hell?
The woman smiles and says “Ooh, this should be fun.”
She claps her hands and yells “Boys!!!”
Three enormous pit bulls burst out of a bedroom and race toward Jane and me. They jar to a halt two feet in front of us and start growling. I stare at the animals and raise the bat, preparing to fight.
“Young man, if I were you I‘d drop the bat…if you want to keep any of your leg meat, that is.”
I look at the three sets of enormous, dripping teeth and drop the bat next to a wicker basket filled with old copies of Ladies Home Journal.
The old woman grins and stares at Jane and I. She digs a hand under her shawl and brings out two trackball headsets. She tosses one to Jane and one to me.
“Put these on if you want to get out of here alive.”
We start complying.
The woman reaches into her pocket. She drags out a dildo and attaches it to the cross bar on her walker. The she drags out a second one and snaps it onto the bar at the other end. She commands us to drop our pants and turn around.
As Jane and I are turning the woman starts pushing the walker towards us. She flashes a toothless smile and chuckles before saying “And to think that I used to have to pay for this.”
- - -
Thomas Sullivan‘s writing has appeared in Word Riot and 3AM Magazine, among others. He is the author of Life In The Slow Lane, a comic memoir about teaching drivers education. For info on this title, and to view more of Thomas’ writing, please visit his author website at http://thomassullivanhumor.com.
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