"Hey wanna hear a good joke?" Frank belted out to his friend with a sudden rush of enthusiasm, most likely influenced by all the alcohol he had drank all night.
"What's the difference between a Lamborghini and a dead blonde chick?" he said.
"Damnit Frank, not this again!" his friend replied with a look of distaste and disapproval. "Look man, I'm tired of..."
But just before he could finish his sentence, Frank quickly cut in and yelled:
"I don't got a Lamborghini hiding in my garage! Ha!"
"Shhh!!!" his friend quickly cautioned him. "Jeez man, keep your voice down! We're at a freaking bar! Damnit, the hell's wrong with you man? Did you have too much to drink or something?..."
Frank then abruptly gave an uncharacteristically sad and apologetic smile. "Sorry man it's just... I don't know what the hell i'm gonna do.".
The atmosphere then soon changed, as both men went dead silent for a whole minute.
"Argh... I swear I didn't mean to kill her man." Frank finally spoke out, his hands clasped upon his face.
"Ahhh... I know man." the friend replied. "But you can't just sit here and wollow while there's a freaking body hiding in your garage!"
"I know, I know!" Frank replied. "But what the hell am I suppose to do?!" he said as tears flowed down his cheek.
His friend then sighed deeply and leaned over,reaching out for his hand. "Pff... it's not exactly the best option, but it's a pretty darn effective one: get rid of the body!"
"The hell!" Frank exclaimed, immediately pulling his hands away. "I can't do that!". Then in an instance, he began throwing a fit.
"Shit! shit! shit! I can't do this anymore man! Maybe I'll just turn myself to the cops?..Yeah! They'll understand right?... they'll understand it was just an accident!"
His friend then grabbed him hard by the shoulders, trying to warn him. "No way dude!! You wanna get ass raped or something huh??" he exclaimed. "If you go to the cops, they're just gonna end up charging you for homicide or worse!"
"But... but... it wasn't my fault!" Frank replied as frantically.
"I know... I know man." the friend replied endearingly. "But the way I see it, you got two choices right now bud." he said. "One: Get yourself sober, drive down to the station, turn yourself over to the cops, get charged with homicide, and then end up with an asshole THE SIZE OF THE GRAND CANYON. Or better yet, you can get your shit together and go get rid of that body!"
"Uh, I still don't know man..." Frank muttered, still uncertain what to do.
"Hey, the choice is yours man." the friend replied, getting up from his chair. "Look, I have to go now but, give me a call when you've made up your mind."
With that, his friend left without so much as a second glance back, leaving Frank to cry out his heart at the table.
Later that night, after taking a bus back to his house, Frank sat in his leaving room staring at his phone screen, trying hard to figure out what next to do. On his phone, were text conversations he previously hadwith some girl stored as "Valerie❤️". And the last message she sent, read:
Dickhead! You couldn't even drink the coffee I left you this morning! Pff... last time I try to be the nice one in this shitty relationship😒
Then clasping his hands upon his face, he muttered:
"Shit..."
Before finally taking his friend's advice, and proceeding to the garage downstairs.
Once he got to the garage, he quickly began looking through his collection of tools, until he came across a pair of gardening gloves and a shovel that seemed appropriate enough. Grabbing them, he made his way back inside the house with the intention of disposing the body he had left lying in the kitchen earlier. However, upon opening the kitchen door, he was left in horror.
"What the hell..." he muttered as he saw that the body was now missing and all that was left were traces of blood that ran across the floor, leading straight to the living room.
Petrified, he immediately shut the door and quickly ran out the back. Taking several deep breaths, he grabbed his phone and called that same friend from the bar earlier.
"Yo, what the hell man! Is this some type of sick joke or something?" he yelled at his friend on the phone. "Look, this isn't even funny man!" he continued raging.
"Jeez calm down man!" the friend replied. "Just what are you going on about?"
"The body man!" Frank exclaimed. "What the hell did you do with the body??"
"The body?" the friend replied in confusion. "You mean Val? Why the hell would i...."
Suddenly, the service began acting up and the phone call cut off abruptly.
"Shit Shit Shit!" Frank exclaimed in frustration but the minute he tried to call his friend back, he heard a loud noise that came directly from the kitchen in the house. Immediately, he turned back to the garage, reached for his drawer, put on a pair of gardening gloves he found, grabbed a shotgun, and then slowly walked back into the house.
Cautiously, he made his way to the kitchen, his heart pounding in fear as he approached the kitchen door with the gun pointed straight ahead. However, once he opened the door and flicked the lights on, he was surprised to see that there was no one there, nor was there any sign of any disturbance. Infact, the only thing that seemed rather out of place, was the fact that there was a freshly made cup of coffee on the counter.
"What in the... The hell made this coffee?" he muttered.
Then in an instance, a female voice sounded in reply from just behind the counter:
"I did Babe!"
This is my entry for the STB contest. If you take out this sub text and my outro, the story is about 990 words in total. Anyway, @susurrodmisterio, I thought you'd be interested in this one bud :)