Christmess
by
LC Cooper
Copyright LC Cooper, January 16, 2012
Published by LC Cooper at Smashwords
Cover design by Joleene Naylor
Interior image © Lenny712 | Dreamstime.com
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Also by LC Cooper, published at Smashwords and other fine retailers:
"Of Yellow Snow And Christmas Balls"
"Dan's Accidental Convertible"
* * * * *
Chapter 1 – When You Make a Cop Grumpy
"Please, dear God, let this visitors' center have a restroom!" Jennifer exclaimed as she squeezed her legs even tighter together. "The place looks closed. What am I going to do? I can't drive any further and I'm not about to pull off onto a shoulder and pee in the bushes."
Jennifer exited anyway, but slowed to a crawl as she approached the dimly-lit rest area. During the day, the place was probably bursting with noisy tourists and their brats, she imagined. It was now, however, late in the evening and the place was deserted, with the exception of one car
If it had been a beater or a sports car, she planned to leave and try her luck with the highway's bushes. Glad to see it was a sedate and boxy minivan with a "baby on board" sign in the rear window, Jennifer chose to park next to it. Besides, the van sat beneath the only working light post in the parking lot. She dutifully followed her father's instruction to park where it's lit, and turned into the spot next to the minivan.
Her car's headlights lit up the minivan's interior, and she strained to see through its windows. The van was empty, which worried Jennifer. Her imagination was running wild with thoughts of deviants and thugs lurking in the shadows of the abandoned-looking visitors' center. A loud "crunch!" startled Jennifer out of her intense focus.
"Oh, no!" she exclaimed as her car's front bumper continued to rake the side of the minivan like a can-opener. Instinctively, she jammed the stick-shift into reverse, gave it some gas, and pulled away from the wrecked van.
Jennifer was ready to race back onto the highway. She reasoned that whoever owned the van would tear her face off and eat her eyeballs for ruining his, her, or its vehicle. She stopped in the middle of the parking lot, her bladder unwilling to drive another mile. Bladder pain overcame reason, and Jennifer slipped her car into a parking spot four down from the minivan.
"There, that should buy me time. If asked, I'll say I don't know what happened, that the minivan looked like that when I pulled in." Satisfied with her alibi, she grabbed her keys and purse, and dashed for the women's room. Mace in hand, she smashed through the bathroom door, flipped the light on, and locked the door behind her.
Heart beating rapidly, Jennifer listened for any beasts that might have followed her to the door, but hearing nothing, proceeded to a bathroom stall. After relieving her pouty bladder, Jennifer decided to spruce up. She reasoned she was only a few miles away from the ski lodge, where her mysterious blind date was awaiting her arrival.
Clean, refreshed, and confident, Jennifer squared her shoulders, unlocked the bathroom door, and strode out of the doorway and into a hail of blinding blue and red lights.
The silhouette of a man, hands on hips, stood facing the smashed minivan. A police cruiser sat slightly away and behind Jennifer's car. The policeman was standing between Jennifer and her car.
Jennifer leapt back into the restroom and locked the door. Pacing near the row of sinks, she concocted several scenarios to explain how the accident happened. As she decided to stick with the story that the van was already damaged when she arrived, a harsh rap at the door startled Jennifer, causing her to spill her purse's contents onto the floor.
"Ma'am? This is Officer Maloney of the Buxter County Sheriff's Department. Please unlock the door and come out. I need to ask you some questions."
Jennifer refused to reply. Panic gripped her as she scooped her purse together. She looked for an escape route through a window. She stood and shuffled toward, what she prayed would be sweet freedom. Then, as she pushed on the unyielding steel bars framing the thick-glass window, she estimated her chances of successfully slipping by the officer and into her car, and driving away undetected.
"Ma'am, I hear you in there. If you come out now, you save yourself a heap of trouble, resisting arrest charges, and all. So, what do you say? Open the door so we can sort this mess out."
Her escape foiled, Jennifer flipped the door lock and yanked the door so hard that Officer Maloney startled, falling against a thorny holly bush behind him.
"Dag-blam-it!" he hollered, "What did you have to go and do that for?" He angrily separated himself from the prickly shrub and growled. "you're off to a bad start with me, Miss …"
"Funkhauser, Jennifer Funkhauser," she huffed. "I guess you want my license?" she added, while staring vacantly at the accident.
"That's better, Miss Funkhauser. I would have hated to add resisting arrest to the list of charges against you."
"List of what? For what?" she hissed, trying to intimidate the polite officer into backing down.
"Don't get snotty with me, Miss Funkhauser. You appear to have fled the scene of an accident, which you apparently caused. These are serious charges."
With her hands planted on her hips, Jennifer continued to bluster, hoping to overwhelm and confuse the calm, but slightly flustered officer. "Who'd dare file charges against me?"
Motioning with his pen, Officer Maloney pointed at the man leaning against his van. "The gentleman over there believes it was you and your car that caused the damage to his minivan. Why don't you come along with me? We'll stroll over to the scene of the accident and get the details."
"I know my rights," she growled. "I demand to speak with an attorney!"
"Don't get your knickers in a knot, Miss Funkhauser. It's late in the evening. You won't find a lawyer anywhere around here that'll be taking on new business tonight. If you don't cooperate with me, I'm afraid I'll have to keep you in jail overnight, until we can locate a lawyer for you."
Deflated, Jennifer dropped her angry feminist act; instead, falling back to plan two. While Officer Maloney glanced at his police cruiser, she hiked up her skirt and adjusted her boobs to show off more cleavage. Seductively smiling, she raised an eyebrow and purred," Are you sure you want to continue wasting your powerful time with this tinsy-whinsy problem?"
"Huh?" the distracted policeman mumbled. He wasn't listening to Jennifer. A bulletin blaring through his loudspeaker announced an all-points-bulletin that Donut World was offering three donuts for the price of one.
"Big deal," he grumbled, "Being the Sheriff's Deputy, I get all the donuts I want for free … Yikes!" he yelped upon turning around to face Jennifer. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Miss Funkhauser, tuck those things in and smooth out your skirt. That trick won't work with me."
"Why occifer, whatever are you talking about? Wouldn't you rather spend some time having a little fun with me than wasting your macho muscles and power on such an insignificant fender bender?"
"Heck, that ain't no fender bender, Miss Funkhauser. And, for the record, that stuff won't work with me."
"Oh, why not!" Jennifer fumed, stomping a foot down onto the sidewalk.
"I'm gay."
"Um, okay. Well then, I guess we need to wrap this up, don't we," she sighed as she smoothed out her skirt and repositioned her breasts. "On second thought," she mused, "if it didn't work on Fuddy Duddy, here, perhaps I can charm the minivan's owner out of pressing charges."
"Excuse me, sir," called out Officer Maloney. "I have the owner of the vehicle over there," he said while pointing at Jennifer's car. "You may not believe this, but she claims she didn't sideswipe your minivan."
"Officer, please tell me you don't believe her. I mean, look, her bumper's pried away and is covered in my van's paint."
"It's not for me to decide. I'll leave that bit of business to Judge Floyd. I'm here to record the facts and observations."
"Judge?" spat Jennifer. "This is a simple traffic accident, which I certainly did NOT cause, by the way."
"Oh, give me a break, you crazy ditz. How can you possibly explain away the facts by parking a few feet away from my van? I do agree with you, though, I don't think we need a judge. It's quite obvious to me you are the moron responsible for wrecking my ride."
"Hold on there, Mr. Odapobi," interjected Officer Maloney, "let's leave the name-calling out of this, shall we? We're all adults here."
"I'm certainly an adult, and you appear to be, as well, Officer. The jury's still out on blondie, there," the man sarcastically stated.
"Odapobi? What kind of name is that? It sounds like it should belong to a cute, little hamster, as in, 'come here, little Odapobi! Come and get your kibbles 'n bits.' On second thought, it does sound like the perfect name for a guy who drives a minivan," Jennifer snickered.
"You're not helping your situation with comments like those, Miss Funkhauser," stated Officer Maloney.
"Funkhauser? With a name like Funkhauser, who are you to mock me?" The man moved menacingly close to Jennifer. "Why I ought to …"
"Stop right there, John Odapobi. No need in escalating this into assault charges against you," the officer said.
"John Odapobi, that's rich!" Jennifer squealed. "Oh, please excuse me. I need to go to the john so I can Odapobi."
"Schnauzer or Chihuahua?" John Odapobi replied coolly, refusing to fall for Jennifer's baiting.
"Huh? What are you talking about?" Jennifer said, derailed and flustered.
"Oh, excuse me. You're blonde. Should I speak slowly for you? I said, 'Schnauzer or Chihuahua?' Schnauzer … Funk-a-dozer, whatever. You yap like a tiny, anorexic Chihuahua."
"Ooh!" Jennifer hissed, with fists balled up, as she lunged toward John Odapobi.
"Don't take another step forward, Miss Funkhauser, or I'll add assault to your list of charges."
"Two can play your game," John smirked while glaring at Jennifer. "Care to cut through this nonsense? I need to get to an appointment."
"Besides a vampire or a sexual deviant, who has an appointment this time of night?" Jennifer spat, folding her arms across her chest, and smugly grinning.
"It's absolutely none of your business, but if you must know, I'm late for a dinner date at an exclusive ski resort." Turning to Officer Maloney, John asked, "Would you please complete your investigation and report, Officer? I really must be going, and I'm sure Butchy Muckmonster needs to get back to her swamp before sunup."
"Oh, that's really adult of you, jerk," hissed Jennifer. Not willing to provide details, Jennifer added, "Yes, please let's finish this charade. I also have plans for this evening, and they have nothing to do with arguing with a primate."
"Are you going to stand there and take her abuse, Officer Maloney?" John snickered.
Flustered, Jennifer blurted out, "I wasn't talking about the policeman, you jerk!"
"Oh, you're in a hurry to meet your husband. Hate to break it to you, but the poor guy probably ran away, if he has a brain in his head." John said with a cheesy grin.
"That's enough, you two!" bellowed Officer Maloney. "I need to finish writing my report and issue Miss Funkhauser a ticket."
"Why? What did I … oh, never mind. Just write me the stupid ticket so …," Jennifer paused, glanced at John's left hand and at the rear of his van, and continued with, "…I can get far away from the creepy single guy with the baby-on-board sign in his back window. Did you see it, Officer Maloney?" Jennifer was desperate to push the spotlight of scrutiny away from her.
Jennifer watched with smug satisfaction as John took the bait. "I, I can explain, Officer. You see, I tend to drive cautiously, which sometimes irritates other drivers."
"I can relate to them," Jennifer said, fueling the fire of doubt and confusion. "We three have been together only fifteen minutes, and I'm already infuriated with the little doofus." Jennifer watched in gleeful anticipation as Officer Maloney turned his attention away from writing Jennifer's ticket and squared off to face John.
"Interesting point that Ms. Funkhauser states, Mr. Odapobi. Do please continue," he said as he folded his massive arms across his burly chest and raised a skeptical eyebrow.
Fidgeting from embarrassment, John mumbled, "It may not seem ethical, but it's not illegal to hang a 'Baby On Board' sign to keep tailgaters off my bumper."
"See there, Officer," Jennifer quipped. "He's shifty and criminal-looking. I'd arrest him if I were you."
All three stopped arguing and dropped to the ground when they heard, "Bang! Bang!" The two ruptured tires on the driver's side of John's minivan exploded. Jennifer's bumper lacerated them as it raked the van's side.
John was the first to get back onto his feet. Brushing gravel, dirt, and twig parts off his hands and clothes, he snarled at Jennifer and pointed to his destroyed vehicle. "Look what you did to my van, you insensitive … " John caught Officer Maloney's glare and changed his tone, "… crazy person! How can I repair two flats? I only have one spare tire."
"Don’t stress over the flat tires, Mr. Odapobi. The only way your van was leaving this parking lot was attached to the back of a tow truck. Otherwise, your van isn't going anywhere tonight. It's not road-worthy in the least."
"What? Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" John ranted as he spun in a circle, waving his hands in the air. Wiping his face with his hand to calm down, John continued with, "Excuse me, Officer Maloney, but how am I supposed to get to my date tonight?"
"Not my problem, Sir. I'd recommend you call for a rental car to come get you, but good luck. No one's open. Looks like you either make yourself comfortable beneath the elm outside the men's room until the tow truck arrives in the morning, or hitch a ride with Miss Funkhauser to the ski lodge."
"Ride with her? Over my dead body," John fumed.
"I'd be glad to arrange that. Why don't you be a dear and step behind my car? I'm itching to make your wish come true," spat Jennifer.
Officer Maloney interrupted with, "Now, Miss Funkhauser, I'd play nice with Mr. Odapobi if I were you. You see, there are a number of charges that reside in a gray area of the law. If Mr. Odapobi desires, he is within his rights to have his lawyer add them to the complaint. If he does, I assure you, you'd never be allowed behind the wheel of anything larger than a bicycle for the rest of your life. For sure, no insurance company would touch you. And …," he growled, "there would be jail time."
"For side-swiping his piece of junk van? Are you kidding me?" Jennifer shrieked, waving her arms over her head.
"You heard her, Officer. She admitted to causing the accident. Please arrest her for fleeing the scene of the crime. Then, while she's calming down in a padded jail cell, you will have all the time you need to complete your report. To compensate for my personal loss, you can give me her car keys, and I'll be on my way. I promise I'll return the keys to you, at your jail, when she is allowed visitors tomorrow. What do you say, Chief?"
"Heh, heh, that's a good one, Mr. Odapobi. You almost had me going there. Just tweaking Miss Funkhauser, aren't you? Well, I've had enough of the two of you, so here's the deal. both of you are on state property after the facility has officially closed for the day. As such, you both are trespassing. Your choice is to share a jail cell for the night, then, or hop into Ms. Funkhauser's vehicle and get the heck out of here and out of my sight." He slapped Jennifer's ticket into her outstretched hand.
"He is not stepping a foot near my car!" barked Jennifer.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I'm not really giving you a choice. I was kidding about arresting you two. I don't want the headache of listening to the belly-aching all night long. So, get the heck out of here right this minute!"
"But …" Jennifer began to plead.
Officer Maloney fired two shots from his revolver into the air, causing John and Jennifer to startle and race for the safety of her car.
"Get in the back, idiot. I won't have you sitting anywhere near me," Jennifer hollered.
"Great, I love being chauffeured," John yelled.
"On second thought, get up here where I can see you, you jerk. I don't want you rummaging through my stuff, or worse."
"No thanks, I'd rather you be my chauffer."
"Not in a million years, you idiot. Get in the front seat now!"
As Jennifer started her car's engine, she heard Officer Maloney yell, "I warned you, Ms. Funkhauser, about that gray area of the law. Treat Mr. Odapobi with respect, if you know what's good for you." Before moving out from behind Jennifer's car, Officer Maloney placed his hand on the trunk of her car and gave it a shove downward.
"Up yours … and his," Jennifer mumbled under her breath as she backed her car out of the parking spot and slammed her foot down onto the gas pedal. The car lurched and sputtered its lethargic response. Grinding through the first two gears added to Jennifer's humiliation and frustration.
Unwilling to entertain a normal conversation, Jennifer chose to tweak John some more, hoping that doing so would drive him crazy enough to insist that she pull over and let him out of her car. "If you don't mind me asking, where are your suitcases? Not much of a date if you don't have clothes to change into. I mean, it's not like your date will stick around if you show up in the slobby mess your wearing." She derisively laughed.
"Already thought of it. Before you slithered out of the women's room back at the visitors' center, Officer Maloney agreed to pop your trunk open. My suitcase is resting quite comfortably atop yours."
"What?" Jennifer shouted. "You and Officer Baloney had this planned all along? You had no business opening my trunk! That's, that's breaking-and-entering or something. I'm sure of it. And Officer Moron assisted you? He's just as much a criminal as you, then."
"Hmm, sounds like the pot calling the kettle black. Remember that gray area of the law that Officer Maloney mentioned? The memories of what you did are still too raw in my mind for you to start making demands and threats, you know."
"Well, I happen to believe you're bluffing." Jennifer said, forcing her mind to settle down and her body to relax.
"Oh, I can prove it, if you'd like," offered John. "Why don't you pull over up ahead and take a look for yourself. You'll find my gear snuggled right on top of your junk."
"Fine, and once back there, I'll toss your bag out and you'll have nothing," smirked Jennifer as she slowed the car and edged it onto the shoulder. As she reached for her seatbelt, she realized John's deception. "Oh, aren't you a clever, little man. You almost tricked me into getting out of the car."
"Why, Ms. Shnoodlehumper, whatever do you mean? I'm offering you the chance to call my bluff. Please go back and see for yourself that my suitcase is in your car's trunk."
"You're so stupid. Do you really think I'd get out of the car without taking my keys with me?"
"Well, it was worth a shot," John said with a smirk.
"It's not as if you'd get anywhere without the keys," she huffed.
"Maybe not, but you'd be locked out. I wouldn't let you in until you gave me the keys," he admitted. Without her seeing it, John slipped the valet key into his pocket, the one he found in the drawer beneath the seat he occupied. "There will soon be another opportunity, My Pretty," he cackled to himself.
"You are one pathetic and scary man. I feel sorry for your date tonight. Apparently, she is extremely hideous and was recently released from prison. I can't think of another reason why any woman would go on a date with you."
"Hey," John interjected, "this, the two of us riding around in the frosty winter air, is kind of like a date. How much fun is this?" he chuckled.
"Ooh!" Jennifer hissed. "Don't you dare call this a date. I am dropping your smarmy keester off at your lodge, or cemetery, whichever we get to first, and leaving you far behind."
"Nope. Your hatefulness isn't working. This still feels like a date to me," he smirked.
"No wonder you aren't in a serious relationship if you consider us fighting a date. You are such an idiot."
"Tsk, tsk, Honey," scoffed John, "are these the memories you want to share one day with our kids? We need to be working toward becoming soul mates, don't you think?"
"Another word out of your mouth and I'm driving this car off a cliff," Jennifer commanded. She swerved the car at a guardrail, for emphasis, causing John to clench and grab the dashboard and armrest.
"Okay, let's agree we hate each other …"
"Agreed," Jennifer rapidly interjected.
"Then, let's make the best of this drive and focus on our own plans for the weekend. Let's …"
Jennifer's car hit a patch of black ice and spun out of control.
John screamed, "I didn't think you were serious about keeping quiet. Please don't drive off the cliff!"
"Shut up, jerk! We're on a sheet of ice. I can't control the car."
"I agree. Did you see what you did to my minivan? Didn't appear you were in control of it then, either."
"We're going to crash, and you're still insulting me?"
" If you're determined to kill us, what have I got to lose? Would you prefer a kiss?"
Jennifer's car glanced off a tree and rolled, coming to rest on its roof, wedged between two trees.
"Oh, thank God I'm alive!" shouted Jennifer as she opened her eyes to her upside down world. She looked at John and said, "Why me, God? Why do you insist on tormenting me? It would have worked out incredibly well if you had killed off the dirtbag."
John groaned, awakening after passing out when his head smacked into the side window. "Thanks for the lovely prayer. I feel better knowing how much you care for me. Your compassion convinced me to stay away from the white light."
"No, no, please go back. Follow the light! It's not too late. I could whack you in the head so you could finish your trip into the light. How's that for compassion, you jerk."
"Are we upside down?" John asked while shrugging off the effects of unconsciousness.
"No, moron, we're right-side up. It's the rest of the world that's messed up."
"Even when I'm in pain, you don't let up, do you?"
"Did you, loser? You were slamming me while we spun in circles on the ice. We could have been killed, but all you thought about was insulting me one last time. Really big and manly of you, you dork."
As John rolled down his window and began unbuckling his seat belt, he said, "Sitting here listening to you whine is getting us nowhere. Someone needs to get out of here and save …"
He shot out of his seat and fell into a crumpled heap onto the car's roof beneath them.
"Apparently, that 'someone' will be me," Jennifer replied, above John's grumbling. She, too, rolled down her window, but unlike John, she slowly lowered herself by pulling the seatbelt out and not unbuckling until she was a few inches from the roof. "And that's how it's done, jerk. If you'll excuse me, I'm out of here. Please don't get up," and with that, she wriggled out the open window.
John remained on the roof, nursing his aching body. He heard Jennifer open the trunk and remove the suitcases. He watched out the side window as she unzipped his suitcase and flung it down the hill beside the car.
"No, you little snot! Everything I needed was in that suitcase!"
"Great, then by the time you find everything and stuff it in your suitcase, I'll be long gone. Oh, don't worry, I removed your box of condoms. I figure I'll put them to good use long before you stumble to your precious ski lodge – assuming you survive the hike, you big baby." She laughed, slung her bags over her shoulders and strode up the hill toward the road. From the top, she yelled, "I'll be calling Officer Maloney in the morning to tell him you wrecked my car as revenge. I'm sure I'll be able to convince him to drop the charges against me." Jennifer loudly laughed, turned around, and disappeared out of John's site, leaving him hollering at her while he scrambled to find his belongings.
Jennifer sat atop her suitcases on the side of the road, only a half-a-mile from where she left her car and John. Exhausted, she missed the convenience of her car. Being alone on a back road in the middle of the night wasn't one of her most brilliant ideas. No phone, no flashlight, and with strange crackling sounds in the trees around her, Jennifer's imagination took flight.
"Boo!" howled the demonic voice just behind her head.
Jennifer screamed and leapt off her suitcases, tumbling on the gravel, scrambling to get away from the unseen killer. It was then that she recognized the voice.
"Didn't make it far, did you? Hey, thanks for the laugh. I really needed it after what you did to me back there at your car. Oh, by the way, how'd those condoms work for you? Made some pretty balloons, did you?" He was doubled over from laughing so hard.
Jennifer leapt up and charged at John. Her shoulder caught him in the stomach, and he rolled backward from the impact, with Jennifer atop him. They wrestled, pulled, and scratched at each other. In a ball built from anger, they rolled into a road-side ditch moments before a pickup truck screeched to a stop beside their suitcases.
"Stop fighting, Spankmeister. I heard a car or something up there on the road!" John exclaimed.
"Get your knee off my hair, you dork, and let me up!" she cursed.
They were too late. Before the crunching sound of sprayed gravel hit their ears, they heard their suitcases and bags being tossed into the back of a pickup truck. When they got to the top of the ditch, the truck and their belongings were gone.
"What do I do now?" Jennifer screeched. "I shouldn't have listened to my bladder."
"Huh?" John replied. "What does our situation have to do with your personal hygiene?"
"If I pushed on instead of stopping at the visitor's center, I never would have met you. If I could have avoided being anywhere near you, I would still have my car. If I still had my car, I would still have my suitcases and bags, and be almost to my ski lodge. Instead, I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere with Elmer Fudd. Lucky me," she sighed as she plopped to the ground.
"If you hadn't destroyed my van, I'd be living it up with my date, all cuddled up together on a sofa in front of a roaring fireplace."
"Sounds dreamy, what is her name? I'm betting on 'Lassie' or 'Inflatable Lucy,' am I right?"
"Either would be better than spending another minute with you, hag."
John looked up at the starless sky and became serious when he realized the breeze changed direction. It began blowing harder just before he said, "Get up, Hassenpfeffer, we'd better find shelter before the snow starts."
"Oh please, no, wait, let me guess. You're going to pretend you're some famous tracker who rescues skiers buried beneath avalanches. Wow, mister snowbunny, please let us follow your keen nose to safe haven," she mockingly said.
"Suit yourself," John replied as he zipped his winter coat up all the way and slid his hands into his gloves. While pulling the hood of his coat over his head, John barked, "This bickering has gone on long enough. Get up, zip up, and walk with me. I don't have the patience for any more of your nonsense. If we're going to survive the night, we'd better find a house or cave within the next couple of hours or we're screwed." He stuck out his hand, which she took, and hauled her to her feet. Without saying another word, the pair started their trek along the gravel road just as the snowstorm began.
* * * * *
Chapter 2 – Getting to Know You
"How did you know?" gasped Jennifer, smacking clotted snow off her hood's faux-fur trim.
"I work for the weather service. Prior to this job, I was a career Air Force officer, predicting weather for mission support," John hollered above the howling wind.
"Okay, weather guru, how much longer will this storm last?"
"The clouds are moving slowly and the snow is blowing hard with no signs of stopping. At this rate, if we don't find shelter soon, we'll be roadside freezer pops until the bears eat us after spring thaw."
"Thanks for that comforting forecast. I feel much better now," she yelled. "Makes a girl want to start taking weather reports seriously."
John excitedly interrupted with, "Look up and to your left. Between the set of large trees is a clearing. Do you see a roof's outline?"
"Could be, but I can't tell for sure. The snow is blowing too hard to see clearly. Augh!" she wailed.
John grabbed Jennifer's gloved hand and pulled her free of the snowdrift she had wandered into. "C'mon, Moneypenny, I don't have the patience to wait while you play in the snow," he snickered.
Jennifer responded by whacking him upside his head with a tightly packed snowball.
"Wow," he hollered, "you throw like a man, yet oddly, you slightly resemble a woman." He dodged her second missile, and then stuck his tongue out at her.
"Oh, what a mature reaction, courtesy of the village idiot."
"Quit starting trouble, Monkeyhouse, we …"
"My … name … is Funkhauser, you brainless moron! Is that too hard for you to say? Jennifer … freakin' … Funkhauser!"
"What an odd name. With your personality and last name, I figured your first name would be something like 'Helga' or 'Eunice.' And what a peculiar middle name you have! Well, Jennifer Freakin' Funkhauser," he cackled, "I'd like to say it's a pleasure meeting you, but it isn't. Say, you must have really pissed off your parents for them to give you such an awful middle name. I'm guessing you were born with a freakishly humongous noggin, like a hobbit, and it made your mother so angry popping you out, she got her revenge by naming you. Kudos to your folks for aptly naming you. They must be psychic."
John stood atop the hill at the approach to the clearing. Jennifer stood, arms folded across her chest, ten feet behind him, waiting for John to finish his monologue.
"Hey, Tourette's," she yelled, "if you're through, now would be a swell time for you to shut your mouth."
"Oh, just get up here, Jennifer Freakin' Funkhauser, and give me a hand opening this gate. It appears I found us a shelter for the night."
John lifted the snow-and-ice-encrusted aluminum gate, then the two of them shoved it until another snowdrift blocked further progress. Jennifer scampered through the opening, but John struggled to clear the gate. "Suck it in, chubby, or I'll leave you outside for the wolves."
"My coat's zipper is stuck on the barbed-wire fence. Give me a hand, would you?" he hollered.
"Only if you say the magic word," Jennifer teased.
"Never mind, I'll simply slip out of my coat, free the zipper, and save myself the agony of being nice to you," he retorted.
"Suit yourself, not-so-macho man. Let me know when you're done struggling. I'll be inside this cabin, warming my feet in front of a toasty fire. I may or may not hear you yelping for my assistance."
Jennifer climbed the steps up to the cabin's porch before John screamed, "Please! I can't get the zipper unstuck, and now, my arm's caught in the fence as well. Please help me!" John vainly thrashed to get free, but his efforts continued to entangle him further.
"You look so silly, hanging on the fence like a broken marionette," Jennifer chuckled. "Well, little Pinocchio, since you were so stubborn, my original offer is void. In order for me to help you out of your puppet strings, you must agree, for the duration of our purgatory together, to call me nothing but 'Jennifer' or 'Miss Funkhauser.' What's it going to be, puppet-boy? Do we have an understanding? Hmm?"
Numb from his arm falling asleep and realizing he was unable to slip out of his coat or free himself, John hissed, through gritted teeth, "Sure, whatever, Jenny Funkym…"
Jennifer didn't stick around to hear the rest of John's tirade. "See ya! Enjoy the winter. Perhaps I'll see you in the spring, right before the bears tear you apart."
"Okay, okay, you win, Jennifer. You destroyed my minivan, left me for dead in your car, and now demand I beg for your help and be kind to you, You really have a lot of balls."
"One of us has to, my dear," Jennifer cooed as she unhooked John's arm and zipper from the barbed-wire fence.
Once freed, John refused to say anything else. He stormed past Jennifer and raced up the steps and onto the cabin's porch. Testing the door and window locks along the wrap-around porch, John yelled, "Everything's locked up tighter than a drum."
"Tighter than a drum? Is that one of those fancy catch-phrases you ancient weathermen use to impress your audiences?"
"Shh, would you?" John demanded, "I'm trying to hear if anyone's at home or if there's a guard-dog inside."
Following John's lead, Jennifer used her gloved hand to scrape the snow and light ice off a cabin window. "I don't see anyone or anything. It's so dusty, I doubt anyone's been here for years. I hope it has a bathtub. I could use a good soaking tonight."
"I would be glad to hold your head under water, if you'd like," John mumbled.
"You promised to be nice," she chided.
"Nope. I agreed to call you by your name. I did NOT agree to be nice to you."
Giving up on their latest sparring, Jennifer asked, "What are you doing?"
"Checking to see if I can work one of these window locks loose so we can get inside."
"Great idea. I'll go over to the front door, pull it open, and walk inside."
"I already tried the front door."
"Well, idiot, if you'll look over here, you'll notice the barrels of the three hinges are on the inside of the door. This means you must Push, and not pull, to get in."
Scoffing at Jennifer's suggestion, John returned to working on a window lock. He heard a creaking sound, but dismissed it. "Dumb ditz," he mumbled. "There!" he shouted as the jimmied lock gave way. He slid up the window and stuck his head in for a look around the place.
From out of the gloom within the cabin, a ghastly image drew instantly closer to John, causing him to gasp. "Boo!" bellowed the apparition. John jumped backwards out of the window and fell into a rocking chair on the porch. All the while, he screamed himself hoarse.
Jennifer poked her head out the window, grinning wildly. "Gotcha, moron. If you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen. That's one of you oldster weather-guys' expressions, I'd imagine. Anyway, as you see, I came in through the front door. As I suspected, the front door was unlocked. Bet you feel all tingly inside from tearing up the window lock, idiot."
"Remember what the cop said about the gray area of the law? I haven't decided to file all those charges against you. As a matter of fact, if you stop calling me names, I'll drop all charges against you. Like it or not, we're stuck with each other for God knows how long. We need to begin working like a team if we're going to survive out here in the wilds."
"What wilds are you referring to? This cabin has a working TV, with cable, and hot water. The pantry and fridge are stocked. Hardly what I'd call roughing it."
"You absorbed all that in the few seconds you were in the cabin before I opened the window?"
"We women know how to work a room quickly to find what we want."
"I bet you use the same approach when attaching yourself to a guy in a bar."
"You promised no more insults."
"No, I promised to call you Jennifer or Miss Funkhauser. I distinctly remember you said nothing about insults. Enough of your nonsense, I'm coming in."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Once I got inside, the front door somehow locked itself," Jennifer giggled. "You're welcome to climb in through this open window."
"You witch," John screamed as he kicked at the door. Giving in after realizing the door wouldn't, John sheepishly slid the window open and climbed inside the cabin.
Jennifer was rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. John flipped on a light switch, causing Jennifer to hiss, "Turn off the light, you fool. What if someone sees lights on inside here."
"Then, we would be rescued. Seems like a no-brainer to me."
"I'd suspect someone with no brain would come up with that one. We need to keep the lights off to prevent suspicion. Leaving lights on would attract more than moths," Jennifer argued.
"Moths? What moths? There hasn't been a bug in this area since before Halloween. If you didn't notice, we're in the middle of winter, in a cabin surrounded by three feet of snow. And yet, you make some dumb connection to moths. Neat."
Jennifer stomped down the hallway to get away from John.
John returned to the window and slid it shut. He hollered, "In the morning, I'll scout around for a car or mobile phone, some connection out of here. I hope there is still time to meet my blind date."
"Once someone posts your picture on their Missing Persons bulletin board, I'm sure you're mystery date will go into shock and run away screaming. You'll spend your vacation all alone, just you and your right hand."
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"
In reply, Jennifer hurled a sofa pillow at John, but he stepped out of its path.
"I'm bored with your insults. Let me hear your plans for the weekend, Jennifer Funkhauser. Then we'll see which of us has the most pathetic story."
John found the thermostat and cranked on the heat. The gas furnace roared in response, sending plumes of noxious fried dust out of the floor registers and into the cabin.
John and Jennifer raced for the front door, choking on the dusty fumes. Fighting for who would get through the doorway first, Jennifer finally squirted through.
"Oh, crap," Jennifer yelped as she realized she had been tricked. She jammed her boot into the narrowing crack of the front door, preventing John from shutting the door on her. "Nice try, you dip. What were you planning to do, keep me outside until I froze to death?"
"Um, no, only long enough to get an apology out of you for destroying my van and my weekend."
"Good luck with that!" she hollered. "You let me back in right now!"
"Not until you say, 'pretty please with sugar on top," he playfully demanded.
"Over my dead body," Jennifer hissed.
"That can certainly be arranged. All you have to do is move your boot out of the way. We'll leave the rest to Mother Nature. If you have any doubts regarding my sincerity, take a look at the fence and gate behind you. You'll notice a scrap of my coat still sticking to the barbed-wire fence, where you left me until I begged for your help."
Jennifer instinctively looked over her shoulder to see the piece of John's coat. John anticipated her distraction and dislodged her boot with a strong kick.
"You jerk!" Jennifer shrieked. "You tricked me! You can't leave me out here, I'll freeze to death."
I'll tell the police that you and I became separated in the blinding snow. I made it to the cabin, but didn't find you. Then, the next morning, I found you frozen to death, just a few feet from reaching the safety and comfort of this cozy cabin."
"You wouldn't dare!" she hissed.
"Try me. It's such a tear-jerker of a story, I won't have any problem getting everyone to believe me. So, your choice is to apologize or freeze to death. What do you say?"
"I'd rather die."
"Suit yourself," John said as he began walking away from the locked door.
"Okay, okay, I apologize for wrecking your hunk-of-junk van."
John teased, "Oh, you weren't listening to me. Maybe you can try again soon, say in about fifteen minutes. You should be feeling frostbite in your fingers right about then."
"Pretty please with sugar on top!" Jennifer yelled while sobbing. "Please, let me in," she muttered before dropping to the porch floor.
Believing she had weakened from their ordeal, John threw open the door and bent down to scoop up Jennifer. She threw a handful of snow in his eyes, momentarily blinding him. While John was disoriented, Jennifer slid out of his reach and raced for the open doorway, shoving John out of her way.
He reacted faster than she expected by grabbing her arm before she was able to get completely into the cabin. John held onto her arm and followed her inside.
"My, that was fun," John said while laughing.
"I can't believe you kept me, a defenseless woman, outside in the freezing cold. What kind of monster are you?" she huffed.
"Oh, spare me the waterworks, princess. The way you body-blocked and ran around me, tells me you have brothers. You must, in order to know moves like those."
"Three, and I wish they were all here right now so they could kick your scrawny butt all the way back to your cave, you slug."
"Oh, what have I here?" John asked as he found a broom between the fridge and the stove. "Care to take it for a ride around the room? Better yet, I'll open the front door so you can ride it outside to give it a real test drive."
Both John and Jennifer instinctively ducked the moment something large crashed onto the cabin's roof and tumbled down and into the bushes. Looking around the room, both realized they looked ridiculous standing in the cabin's kitchen, insulting each other.
"Let's call a truce for the time being," John offered. "We need to find something to eat and get some sleep."
"Fine," grumbled Jennifer. "Um, I suppose I'll rummage around the bedrooms and bathrooms to see if I can find any supplies we can use."
"Yeah, and I'll check the pantry and fridge for something we can eat right away. I'm starving. I'm sure I can scrounge something together that will fill us up."
"Sure, sounds good." Jennifer brushed out the wrinkles in her sweater, turned, and strutted down the hall toward the back of the cabin.
As hoped, John found fresh foods in the refrigerator and a variety of dried and canned ones in the pantry. Soon, aromatic smells drew Jennifer into the kitchen.
"I didn't know your talents went beyond ruining lives to include cooking. Quite impressive," she said, while looking over the array of pots and pans, all filled with simmering and frothing food."
"I spent four years in a culinary school in Melbourne."
"Australia?"
"Nope, Florida. My folks didn't have the kind of money to send me to a fancy school overseas."
"Oh …" Jennifer let her voice trail off, not sure how to break the awkward silence. "Well, it certainly all smells heavenly. If it tastes as good as it looks, we will enjoy quite a meal tonight." She smiled for the first time since the two of them joined up at the visitor's center. "Thank you for this," she whispered before leaving the kitchen. Reeling herself back in, Jennifer changed the conversation's direction with, "Um, I meant to tell you, we're in luck. This cabin has two separate bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. The sheets are clean and both bathrooms have soap and shampoo. It'll be like staying in a bed-and-breakfast."
"Seems perfect," John wistfully stated. He was sad thinking he was giving up a romantic weekend with a gorgeous woman. In exchange for the romping weekend at a ski lodge, he was stuck cooking for the wicked witch of every compass point, not just the one from the west.
Jennifer was similarly lost in thought. She closed her eyes and pretended she was at a different ski lodge with her mystery man. A co-worker and good friend of Jennifer's arranged the weekend. Jennifer was promised she'd have the time of her life with a kind and caring doctor. Her date was described as being in his late 30s, blonde, tall, and toned, though not muscle-bound. Jennifer was tired of being sent on dates with meatheads.
Jennifer's dreamy smile turned into a frown when she heard John bellow, "Come and get it. Dinner's on the table."
"So much for my romantic getaway with an exotic man. Instead, I'm stuck here with Neanderthal Neal. I hope he cooks better than he talks. These battles of the wills are exhausting," she said with a yawn. "Dinner and a good night's sleep are exactly what I need. No doubt, tomorrow will be a better day."
Jennifer shuffled into the dining room, happily eager to fill her growling stomach. Expecting John to have a heaping plate of steaming food on the table for her, she startled and snarled, "Hey, where's mine?"
John was already seated, stuffing his mouth. Through a mouthful of chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn, he mumbled, "Help yourself. Everything's on the stovetop. Grab a plate and glass; they're in the cabinet next to the fridge." His attention returned to his plate and biscuit.
"Thanks, I guess."
"I could have let you fend for yourself."
"No, no, I'm grateful. I thought, chivalry and all, you might have made a plate for me as well. Silly me, right?" she said, with an embarrassed giggle. She thought, "What did I expect? The jerk nearly had me arrested and has bad-mouthed me nonstop. I wish I were at the lodge, sharing a gourmet dinner with a super stud. I bet my date would have made me a plate and pulled my chair out for me." Looking at John wolfing his food, she frowned in disgust. "I'm certain my date has better manners. Ugh!"
Sensing Jennifer was staring at him, John said, "Based on the fact you're staring at me, I suppose I should apologize for not playing the good-guy role for you. Let's chalk it up to the fact that I'm starving and … frankly, you're mean. So, stop boring a hole in me, grab a plate, and dig in. Heck, the table's large enough, you don't have to sit near me."
"I was thinking that very thought while looking around for another table, you, you disgusting pig."
"You better get to the food before I get up for seconds. I'm not going to let it get cold." John shuffled his chair, pretending to rise.
Jennifer sprinted to the kitchen counter and loaded her plate with chicken, corn, potatoes, and biscuits. With the biscuits balanced atop her plate, Jennifer gingerly set the mass onto a placemat across the table from John.
"Wow!" he exclaimed.. "You eat as much as a man! Where do you stuff it all."
Jennifer glared with the first comment, but raised an eyebrow and smirked at the second. "My figure is none of your business. Keep your eyes on your plate and not on my hips."
"How could I miss them?" he retorted. "They, alone, blocked me from making a clean run into the cabin during our earlier wrestling match."
"Augh, you're impossible!" she spat. Jennifer stood and carried her plate and glass of tea to the sofa. Setting the glass on an end table, she plopped onto the red and white plaid sofa and ate, refusing to acknowledge John, even after he apologized for his rudeness.
"I cooked, you clean," John shouted before tossing his empty plate, utensils, and glass into the kitchen sink.
"Fat chance of that. Clean it up yourself. I'm out of here in the morning. Feel free to stick around and play housemaid to the owner of this cabin. I have no intention of being here to explain why we broke in and helped ourselves."
"Yeah, adding 'breaking and entering' and theft to your list of crimes probably wouldn't sit well with the guy you're supposedly meeting. I mean, you're already a criminal – no point in making things worse, right? However, if the guy's willing to settle for a criminal, such as you, he must not be too picky."
"I'm told he's perfect. Unlike the desperate tramp you're supposed to meet tonight, my date doesn't arrive until tomorrow evening. I'll have plenty of time to get cleaned up at the resort."
"I hate to break it to you, but you might as well make yourself comfortable and get a good night's rest. I looked out the window a moment ago. The snow's too deep to walk in. I'm afraid we're stuck here to await our fate at the hands of this cabin's owners."
"You're such a drama queen. Say what you will, but I'm still not cleaning the kitchen. You trashed the place. There's muck and gunk everywhere. I think you should get in there and clean it yourself. I'll make breakfast and clean it. I like my plan better."
"I'm sure you do. What will we have for breakfast? I'm betting it rhymes with 'real' and begins with the letter 'c.' Am I right? Oh, I know, let's top it off with a gob of butter tossed onto a piece of tattered and charred toast. Yum, eh? I'm getting hungry already."
"I'm sure you are, you slob. While you clean the kitchen tonight, I bet you'll swill down a couple of six packs and belch frequently."
"Only if doing so will infuriate you."
"Don't bother. Your presence is maddening enough. Your voice is remarkably similar to that of a little girl's scream, mixed with the chilling sound of fingernails scraping across a chalkboard."
"Neat. You must have spent hours coming up with that one; very rehearsed, very boring."
John and Jennifer were fully engaged in a battle of words. Nothing was going to stop them from trying to one-up the other. Then, the front door creaked.
Chapter 3 – Deliverance
"Well, well, Dickie, looks like we caught ourselves a couple of trespassers," the hulking, shadowy figure at the front door said. Cocking his shotgun and pointing it at John's chest, the man growled, "Hey, boy, I bet you can squeal like a pig."
From behind the man in the doorway, a voice piped up, "Shall I go on in and rev up the soundtrack from Deliverance, Travis?"
"Not now, Dickie!" Travis huffed. "I was trying to scare these here trespassers, and you done made it sound all stupid."
"Look at 'em, Travis. They're afraid, shaking and all. Put away the gun and let's meet the folks," Dickie insisted.
"Bite me!" Travis growled.
"I thought we agreed we weren't gonna gay it up in front of guests."
"Stop that, Dickie," Travis bellowed, his face red from embarrassment. "How am I supposed to be intimidating when you keep yucking it up. You're yanking the rug out from under me, that's what you're doing. Always sabotaging my efforts. It's a wonder why I put up with you."
"Probably because you know no one else will bother being anywhere near you," Dickie chuckled. He pushed Travis' shotgun aside as he walked through the doorway. Sauntering over to John and Jennifer, Dickie stuck out a hand to shake and said, "It's okay, folks. Relax. Everything's okay. The name's Dickie Banks. The big teddy bear is my partner, Travis Lamb."
"Business partners," Travis interjected, "and fishing buddies – nothing more."
"They aren't judging us, Travis. Please calm down, put the shotgun away, and get over here. We have houseguests."
"They ain't no houseguests. Them's trespassers, and by the looks of our kitchen, them's also thieves. I'd call the cops, but I doubt I could tear the Sheriff and Maloney away from the donut shop this time of the night."
"Then, it's settled, Travis. We have guests for the night, and we will treat them as guests until we talk with the Sheriff in the morning."
"Naw, Sheriff Todd's visiting his sick aunt. Maloney can arrest and deal with these trespassers."
Turning to the speechless pair, John and Jennifer, Dickie winked and whispered, "Trust me, his bark is worse than his bite."
"Would you quit it already with the gay jokes, Dickie. I mean, for God's sake, you're nauseating me."
Travis did as Dickie said, and set his shotgun on the fireplace mantle, and then strutted into the kitchen. He refused to shake John's outstretched hand. "I ain't shaking your hand, boy. You broke into my home. Who knows what you'd steal off of my person if we were to shake hands. You're probably one of them pick-pocketers."
John stammered, "We're really sorry, Dickie and Travis. We didn't break into your cabin to steal anything. Our car …"
"My car, that you ruined," spat Jennifer.
"No, my dear," insisted John, "you rammed your heap into the side of my minivan and then rolled your car. None of it was my fault. All I did was stop to use the restroom."
"Shut yer yaps, both of ya," Travis hollered. "I'm already sick of listening to you."
"See?" whispered Jennifer, "I told you, your voice irritates everyone."
"Lady, I was talking about you, too."
"Oh, um…" Jennifer said.
"Ha!" John added.
"I said, 'shut up,' and I darn well meant it. Don't make me go over there and get my shotgun," Travis growled.
"And what would you do with it once you got it, Travis? That thing hasn't been fired off in years. Speaking of something that hadn't been fired off in years …" said Dickie as he winked at John and Jennifer.
Instead of yelling again, Travis realized Dickie was baiting him. He coolly said, "Okay, I've had enough of this jibber jabber. I believe you two have a mess to clean up in our kitchen."
"I'm not touching it," Jennifer sniffed. "He made the mess," she said, pointing at John, "He needs to clean it up, don't you think so, Travis and Dickie?"
"Sorry to break it to you, princess, but you ain't our pal. You march your snotty rear end into the kitchen, roll your sleeves up, and get washing." Pointing at John, Travis said, "You, boy, come here."
"You want the Deliverance soundtrack now, Travis?" kidded Dickie.
Travis shot Dickie a dirty look and shook his head in disgust. Ignoring Dickie's joke, Travis continued with, "You're gonna bring our fishing gear in off the front porch before it freezes solid. Then, get the fish into the kitchen freezer and have princess, there, wash the guts off the cutting board and filet knife."
"I most certainly will not! That's disgusting. You can't make me …"
"You use that phrase a lot, don't you. It's probably the reason you can't keep a boyfriend, I imagine," whispered John into Jennifer's ear.
"You two pipe down and do what you're told. Dickie and I will be back in a minute, after we change out of these fishing clothes."
Dickie started down the hallway and turned into the first bathroom. Travis followed, but before heading into his bathroom on the right, he yelled, "Don't bother trying to escape, you two. The snow's already three-feet deep. To keep you honest, I turned on the top strands of the electrified fence."
"See what you did?" whispered Jennifer, once she and John were alone, "Of all the cabins to choose from, we landed in probably the only one for miles owned by redneck queens. Travis acts tough, but I bet he's the she-male."
"Hey, lookie there," John replied, with a hillbilly accent, "we finally agreed on something. It's s shame it had to be wasted on guessing the sexual preference of our hosts."
"Hosts? Are you kidding me? Those bubbas are holding us against our will. They're kidnappers."
"Beyond all this, did you hear Travis mention Officer Maloney's name?"
"Yeah, I did," Jennifer resignedly sighed. "It won't be good for us if he's called out here in the morning."
"Us? It'll be fabulous for me, absolutely lousy for you, Jennifer Freakin' Funkhauser. You haven't shown one sign of remorse during our entire ordeal. I bet he'd eagerly toss your whiney butt in jail while Dickie, Travis, and I …"
"Bond, in a very meaningful, yet manly, way?"
"… file extra charges against you, smart mouth. That gray area plus whatever these guys add on top should keep you out of my hair for, say, twenty years, I'm hoping."
"Then, we need to leave tonight. While bubba and bubbette sleep off the evening's liquor," Jennifer stated, just as she washed the last dirty dish. Sensing trouble, Jennifer hushed John as he was opening his mouth to nail her with another insult. "Listen," she whispered.
"Oh, crap," John stammered. "They're talking about the movie Fried Green Tomatoes."
"Yeah, I heard that. So what?" Jennifer asked.
"In the movie, the women cook and serve the ribs of an abusive husband."