I stood in line at the Denver airport; soon I would be on my flight for home. So far so good, I thought to myself. The police haven’t connected me with the body, otherwise; I’d have been nabbed before this. I know I didn’t actually kill her myself; nevertheless, disposing of a body is still a major crime. I tried hard not to look nervous or apprehensive, there was no need to attract the TSA fools. Colorado is a legal pot state so the airport will likely screen outgoing passengers more closely than the average airport.
It seemed like such a simple trip when it began. Take a few days off, travel to Denver for a little 420 fun and return to my normal life. Normal Life, I thought, suppressing a smile, I wonder if my life will ever be normal again. Before I left for my trip, I met a woman on the internet. She was witty, kinky, and judging by her picture quite pretty. We made all manner of plans. We would have sex and get into all manner of kinky fun; she was even going to bring a girlfriend of hers over for a 3-way. I would get stoned on my ass and laid. My wife is rather vanilla and would never indulge my darker sex fantasies. This woman was supposed to make them all come true.
I’m in my mid 50s and I’ve been a stoner since my teens, getting weed wasn’t an obstacle, but I just wanted to have the experience of buying it legally. It all started so innocently, I was going to have all my fun then return to a normal life with no one the wiser. I never imagined having to dispose of a body. Other than buying and using weed, I never broke the law in my life now I’ve committed a felony.
We met as arranged and she was exactly as advertised, cute, witty, and sexy as hell. We smoked together and the sex was fantastic, then it all went to hell. She pulled a popper out of her purse and offered it to me but I declined, all I do is weed.
She suddenly started to shake and convulse! I recognize a heart attack when I see one but not what to do about it. I couldn’t get discovered with her. If my wife found out about this getting divorced would be the least of my troubles. One of her brothers runs a karate school and the other is a recently paroled convict with a hair-trigger temper. If my employer found out I was using drugs I’d get canned, in this modern economy that’s frightening for a man my age.
I waited until she stopped shaking and wrapped her up in one of the motel’s bed sheets. I went through her purse and erased every vestige of my name or identity from her phone. I was careful to wipe her purse and phone clean of fingerprints. The hard part was figuring out what to do with her. I couldn’t bring myself to simply throw her in the dumpster. She was nice and there was too much of a chance of the motel staff seeing me.
I’ve made some mistakes in my life the same as anyone else, but getting involved with a strange woman in a strange city while being married was one of the most bone headed moves I ever made. I considered buying a chainsaw from a hardware store and chopping her up but I’d still have the problem of disposing of the parts. I don’t know Denver; I had no idea where to dump the parts off. A chainsaw wasn’t an option. I had just 3 days until my flight home; 3 days to dispose of a dead body and hoping the motel housekeeping didn’t see her. I vowed never to take a trip again! This was the worst boner I ever made!
The line for the plane started to move, soon we would be airborne, and I’d be on my way home. I thought, God Please let me go with this I’ll pay on judgment day, but please not now. Please wait for then to punish me. I didn’t kill her I just got rid of her.
I sat on my bed at the motel wondering what to do with my new friend. The TV was on, and a commercial came on about a football game at a local stadium and I hit upon an idea. I figured if I got her dressed and carried her over my shoulder to my rented car, I could drive her to the stadium and bring her inside. I’d just explain she was drunk and leave her in one of the seats. The cops would eventually be called, but I’d be long gone by then and all they would have is a mystery. I’d even set her up with a big foam finger and a hotdog.
Video cameras would record our entering to be sure, but I thought if I wore a disguise I could abandon later, they might not be able to track me. f I was tracked, I could explain we had an argument and I simply walked away and left her there. She was alive when I left, I can’t explain what happened after that.
I could tell the cops she was just some woman I met on the sidewalk outside a bar. I was lonely away from home, and decided to score a stray piece of tail. That would even explain any DNA evidence they might find inside her. I thought that explanation would even work for my wife. I’d be in the doghouse for months, and she’d watch me like a hawk for a few years, but I was never going to pull a boneheaded stunt like this again so I might have a way out of this mess.
I hung a do not disturb sign on the door and went to a local connivance store. I bought two pairs of dark sunglasses, one for her one for me; I didn’t want to look into her eyes. I bought a big floppy hat for her and a baseball hat for me along with a hoodie. I hoped this would suffice for disguises. I also bought some deodorant and perfume, the football game was the next day, and I didn’t want her to smell. It was strange sleeping next to a dead body that night, further incentive not to do this again.
The plane started seating and I found my seat and settled in. I’m almost in the clear! In a few moments, I’ll be airborne! I sighed in relief even as my pulse quickened.
The next day I gave my friend a whore’s bath, just her pits and puss, and hit her up with the deodorant and perfume. By now, she was cold so it was a strange experience. I slung her arm around my shoulder and half carried, half dragged her to my car. I put her new hat and glasses on her, and got in to drive.
Getting into the football stadium was less difficult than I thought it would be. Once I got her settled into a seat, I purchased a hot dog and big foam finger and arranged her correctly, all the while pretending to be having a conversation with her. Thank god for my ventriloquist skills. I pretended that our conversation was quickly becoming an argument until I threw up my hands in disgust and said to her “Fine, watch the game yourself, I’m leaving!”
I left without making eye contact with anyone. I drove back to the motel thanking god I had the foresight to pack gloves in case Denver got chilly. I sat down in my motel room, rolled two very large smokes, and turned on the TV to watch the game. I wasn’t so much interested in the outcome as I was if my date would be found, but that was just a question of time.
After the game was over, I lay down to take a nap and try to process all that had happened over the last two days. When I woke up the news was on, and of course, the lead story was about the dead woman that was found sitting in the stadium. All they would say was the incident was under investigation and her name was being withheld.
The next day came and no visits from the police. I checked out of the motel and dropped off the rented car after I washed and vacuumed it thoroughly to remove any residual evidence of her. I went through the airport security and waited for my flight to be called.
After the last passenger was seated, the stewardess began the preflight speech about smoke detectors and seat belts as I sat back waiting anxiously to leave. I’m almost free, just be patient, I told myself.
The stewardess stopped her speech, looked over her shoulder, and stepped aside as two uniformed Denver police officers and two TSA agents entered the plane and walked down the aisle toward me. They stopped by my row of seats and I shit in my pants as one of the cops said, “Get up!” as he reached down and grabbed the man sitting next to me.
He pulled the man to his feet and told him he was under arrest for drug smuggling. Apparently, the baggage checkers found pot in his suitcase. As they cuffed the guy, the cop gave me a dirty look as he sniffed the air. “I’m sorry sir,” I told him, “I have loose bowels.” I tried to smile but he simply frowned at me and led my seatmate away.
A few moments later, we were airborne. I figured a four-hour flight wearing shitty pants was a small price to pay for getting away with everything. When I got home, my wife asked me if I had gotten my fill in Denver. She hates weed. I assured her I had indeed had enough to last me a very long time. I told her I’ll still smoke weed, but Denver wasn’t as much fun as I hoped it would be.
BIO: Ray Prew was originally from Rhode Island, but now lives in Florida. He is a graduate of the New England Institute of Technology. Ray has been a blue-collar worker all his life, and started writing as a hobby. He spent 9 enjoyable years as a phone psychic. Ray’s work has been published in Spinetinglers magazine (6 times) one of the stories was used in a trivia quiz. Two Spinetinglers stories are on You Tube, one story called Some Monsters Are Real is narrated by someone, and the other was made into a short video called let me out by Ray Prew. He has been published in Blood Moon Rising (7 times including 2 poems), Aphelion magazine (11 times including 2 poems) as well as several other magazines. He has an anthology book of published and unpublished stories available on Amazon called Delightful Nightmares. His work has also appeared in the anthology vicious circle season one put out by sinister grin, and one poem in an anthology of vampire poetry called vampoetry.