The Undertaker Always Rings Twice
Damn him and his weak heart.
I drove out of town to blow off some steam. Took my jug of moonshine with me. It never hurt to be prepared for emergencies.
No moon lit the fields I drove through. Halloween. It was always the darkest night of the year.
I liked it that way.
I took a slug of my shine and listened to static on the radio. Made me feel less alone on the road in the dark. The moonshine, not the radio.
I come up to a T-junction and almost plowed through an accident. Just happened. Two big farm trucks. One laid over on its side. The other one was all mangled.
I jumped out of the ambulance and run around the front. One body off in the ditch. Another one stuck through a broke windshield. Two more all knotted up in the middle of the road.
All of them breathing. It was my duty to check.
I hightailed it back to the ambulance. Opened up the back and got out my kit and ran back to those poor people as fast as I could.
When I drove the end of the pick axe through the first man’s head, I don’t even think he noticed.
Welcome to The Undertaker Series, a set of stories inspired by my father. He told me a story late one night, on our trip to Tennessee. If this is your first visit, please click here to go back to the beginning, click here for the second post and go here for the third post in the story.