Working without a net here today. I wanted to extend my Hartwhile Garage story, but I can’t seemt o find it on the web. Not being able to find it means that I’ve never posted it and that it’s lost to the text searching of my root folder here on the computer. Not a difficult task but one which will further distract me from writing. So, no net.
Not recalling the owner or the badger’s names may make me crazy. I swear: I’ll be quick. That was easier than I thought.
Narkkid punched the garage door button with two fingers. The door rose like a stage drape as the hinged metal slats coiled onto a spindel three meters above her. The mechanic stood without stooping as the door chugged past her face. Some mornings an anxious customer witnessed her theatrical opening—most times, not. This morning as the cool outside air rolled into the front bay of Hartwhile Custom Flit and Repair Shop at the twelve o’clock spot on Honey Farm Circle so did a body.
“Tjon? Tjon! Get in here. We’ve got another body.” Something like a badger trotted up to the doorless doorway between the front bay and the big bay. He wore a pocket-riddled green vest; a human-sized Phillips head screwdriver ran down his back in a sheath like a sword.
“That’s the second one in a week,” Tjon said.
“Are we still clean?”
“It’ll just take twenty minutes.” Tjon bounded over to the body and snuffled the nape of the neck.
“And give Uma another half-day with no work,” Narkkid said. “She won’t thank me for that.”
“I don’t think this one’s dead, Kiddi”
Narkkid stopped scowling. “Good then. No police. Uma! Get in here and give us a hand.”
A woman in blue coveralls filled the same doorway like a serving of mashed potatoes. Her hair was thin and white and short; she really needed a hat.
“That’s the second one this week,” Uma said.
“But Tjon says this one ain’t dead.”
“Good then. No police. Want me to give you a hand?”
Narkkid palmed her forehead and rubbed her hand down her face to her chin like an egg. After a moment and without removing her hand she said, “Yeah. I do.”
“Just get the shoulders. I’ll get the feet.” Tjon hopped onto a workbench and began tepping on a monitor.
Uma crossed the arms over the stomach and hoisted the body up from its shoulders. “Where to, boss?”
Narkkid looked over to Tjon.
“Hang on, ladies,” the badger-ish mechanic said without looking away from the screen. “Nothing in the police blotter. Nothing on the news. Let me check craigslist.” Tjon peeked over the monitor at Uma.
“Come on, schab. This…” Uma inspected the body. “…this girl’s heavier than she looks.”
468 words on day 865