Casket for Sale, Only Used Once Read Online Free PDF

truck was stopped in the center of the road, about fifty feet ahead, blocking our path.
    "What's he doing?" asked Roger.
    "I don't know." The truck was filthy, the front grille covered with unidentifiable gook. Somebody was in the driver's seat, but he didn't appear to be moving.
    We waited for about ten seconds.
    "Honk at him," Roger said.
    "I'll decide when to use the horn, thank you very much." I gave the horn a light tap.
    The truck didn't budge. The driver didn't react.
    "I don't think his engine's on," said Roger.
    Samantha moved up to the front and looked through the windshield. "What's up with this guy?"
    "Is he awake?" Roger asked.
    "Yeah, his eyes are open," said Samantha. "Honk at him again."
    " I will make all decisions about the use of the horn." I waited for several seconds to prove I was making the decision on my own, and then honked at the truck again.
    No response.
    "Jeez, I hope he didn't have a heart attack or something," I said, putting the camper into park. "Everybody wait here, I'll go see what the deal is."
    I got out of the vehicle and walked toward the truck. The engine was on. The driver was a guy in his late thirties or early forties, with at least a week's worth of beard growth and unkempt long black hair. As I got closer to his truck, it was clear that he was very much conscious and watching me closely.
    But as I walked up to the driver's side of the truck, he stared forward, watching the camper. "Hi there," I said, waving to get his attention.
    No reaction.
    "Hello? Sir?"
    Nothing.
    What was wrong with this guy? I hesitated for a moment, and then knocked on the door. "Sir?"
    He didn't move.
    Now, I could tell the guy was watching me when I approached the truck, so why was he ignoring me now? "Sir, I really need for you to move your truck. We can't get around you."
    Again, no response. Now I was getting irritated. I knocked on the door again, harder this time. "Hey! I need you to move the truck, okay?"
    Very slowly, the man turned his head to look at me. He narrowed his eyes, and then very slowly returned his attention to the camper.
    I got ready to pound on the door, but decided that perhaps this was a gentleman I didn't want to make mad. Did I really want to piss off a guy who was acting this strange, and who could easily have a shotgun resting on his lap?
    We could always return to our original plan and drive back the way we'd been going before the wimp-out. Of course, there wasn't nearly enough room on the road to turn the camper around until we reached the store. I wasn't quite comfortable enough driving the motor home to relish the idea of driving in reverse for three miles, but what was I gonna do, throw open the door and drag this idiot out of his truck?
    I rapped my knuckles against the window. "Sir? Is something wrong? Do you need me to get help?"
    He looked at me and rolled down his window. "Quit touching my goddamn truck." He said these words in a surprisingly articulate manner.
    "Sorry about that, but you're in the way."
    "What way?"
    "The way of my camper. We need to get past you and you're in the middle of the road."
    "No kidding."
    "Uh, right. So could you move?"
    The man opened his door and slowly climbed out of the truck. He wore filthy blue jeans and a T-shirt bearing the faded slogan "Quality Counts!" He was tall, at least six-two, and lean but muscular. He had an ID badge clipped to his pants pocket, which featured his picture and the word "Goblin."
    "You can't go down that road," he informed me.
    "Yes, I realize that. That's what I've been saying. Your truck is in the way."
    "I know my truck is in the way."
    I wanted to grab him by the shoulders, give him a good shaking, and scream "Then move it!" but wisely refrained. "Okay, well, since we're both aware of that, maybe you could move it? Just a bit?"
    "A tree fell, about a mile up ahead. It's blocking the road. It's right as you go around a corner, and I didn't want you to crash into it."
    "Oh. Well, that's very nice of you.