j. l. navarro

Bad Connection














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"I’m dead, buddy.  Dead!"

 

He recognized the voice on the other end of the line.  It belonged to Jeff Cranston.  And he was dead.  They found him at the lake on his boat stiff as a board and naked as the day he was born.  Coroner said it was a heart attack.  Tom Sweeny had gone to the man’s funeral only the week before.

 

"Did you hear what I said?  I'm deader than shit!"

 

Sweeny looked at the receiver in his hand as if it were something distastefully peculiar, something that had no business in his reality.

 

Continues…

 

This story is included in The Blood Cake Vendor and Other Stories.

 

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