Home Sweet Home

Betty Boopkininsky

'Help me'

'Ethel Sueann Parsons'

I stared at the message on my iPhone.

Could this possibly be old Lady Parsons. I didn't even know she owned a cell phone. I had never seen her with one.

I knew she owned a shotgun. I had experience with that, but this was something new.

I immediately responded to the message.

'Old Lady Parsons. Is this you?'

I sat staring at the phone, waiting for a response.

Ten minutes later, I got one.

'Yes. And I am not that old, asshole.'

I nodded. Sounded like old Lady Parsons.

'Where are you?'

I waited anxiously for the response.

A rapping on the window of my van scared the crap out of me. I dropped my cell phone on the floor.

I turned to the window. It was Warren Whitesnake.

I rolled down the window.

"Mr. Whitesnake. Nice to see you again."

He looked confused.

"Have we met before?"

'Shit', I thought.

'Him too.'

I decided to play along.

"No. I saw your pic on a bus bench and, well, you are distinctive."

He nodded.

"Yes I am."

"So how may I help you?"

He pointed through my van.

"You have me blocked in."

I turned. I was sure there was no vehicles there when I had first pulled in.

But his car was there now. I recognized it from when he had brought me to the mansion, just a couple days earlier.

And besides, he had lots of room to back out.

"Why don't you just back out?"

"Ah ...," he stammered, searching for words.

"My reverse is broken."

"Really?"

"Really?" he repeated.

He looked around the inside of my van.

I mean he literally stuck his head through the window and looked around.

I suddenly had this urge to roll up the window and crush his scrawny little neck.