Ergo, the Ogre

Fandango’s Story Starter #203 – Facts, Fictions & Fantasies

Fandango’s Story Starter for this week is:

The text the mayor received simply read, “I know what you buried, and it wasn’t just a time capsule.”

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The text the mayor received simply read, “I know what you buried, and it wasn’t just a time capsule.”

Mayor George Essex was in a deep sleep when his phone alerted him to a text. He fumbled for his phone and struggled to open his eyes. The text the mayor received simply read, “I know what you buried, and it wasn’t just a time capsule.”

He was wide awake now, heart nearly pounding out of his chest. He glanced at the clock; it was 3:30am. I was so careful. There’s no way anyone could have known. This is bullshit. Gotta be bullshit.

What do you want? He texted back.

It bounced. The mayor wasn’t surprised. He was always getting weird texts from burn phones. How they kept getting his number he didn’t know. As a rule, he ignored them, but this was different.

This time he was scared.

Being the mayor of a small town like East Frostburg was a fairly easy gig. The trouble was that it didn’t afford him the luxury of bodyguards. He had the police chief but that wasn’t going to help him much. Not this time.

George went about his business and tried not to think about the text or the time capsule or buried things.

His phone rang and he jumped as if someone had goosed him. It was from an unknown caller. George answered it anyway.

“Yes?”

“I’m surprised you answered, Mayor.” The caller was using one of those voice scramblers.

“What do you want?”

“Fifty thousand will keep my mouth shut.”

“What is it exactly that you think you know?”

“I want fifty grand in small bills. Put it in a paper bag inside a trash bag and leave it in the phone booth with no phone at Tucker Lake. Come by yourself and don’t tell anyone. Be there at 7:00 tonight. Drop off the bag and leave.”

“Fifty grand is a lot of money. I need a few days to —”

“You have a few hours,” the voice interrupted. “Use them wisely.”

The phone went dead.

Mayor Essex thought he might throw up, but there was no time for that. Instead, he went to Kmart and bought two Monopoly games. When he got back to his car, he took the Monopoly money out of the game boxes and shoved it into a paper bag, inside a trash bag. He drove a couple of miles and put the game boxes back in the Kmart bag and dropped them in a trash barrel at the Kroger’s strip mall.

He had some time to kill so he drove two towns over and stopped at a little dump of a place called The Red Lion. It was a dive bar, but they had the best Mexican food in Arkansas. It wasn’t far from Tucker Lake. Having grown up in the area, George knew his way around blindfolded.

George ordered a dirty martini and a Quesadilla Grande. He was surprised he had an appetite. Maybe it was the confidence that came with having a good plan in place. After that, he drank one more martini and then it was time to go.

He hoped to hell he knew what he was doing.

He arrived at Tucker Lake right on time. He looked around and didn’t see anyone, so he got out and put the sack of Monopoly money in the phone booth with no phone. When he got back in his car George checked the glove compartment for his gun, which he should have done long before now. It was still there. He then drove back down the old road, maybe a half block or so, and hid his car behind a thick cluster of trees. George Essex then retrieved his 9mm from the glove box and slipped the silencer on it. He walked toward the phone booth but stayed hidden among the shadows and trees.

Soon, a grey BMW drove up. He recognized the car, but it didn’t make sense. He waited for the driver to exit the vehicle and watched him creep toward the phone booth like an anorexic spider. When he had a clear shot, Mayor George Essex pumped three bullets into his half-brother, Bobby.

They were never close.

How Bobby new about the burial remained a mystery. For a while, George thought about it and wondered. As time went by, he thought about the incident with Bobby less and less until it was finally forgotten.

He remembered the burial, though.