A Just The Other Day… Shorthartley-stevens

My wife burst into the house, teary eyed. “Somebody stole your cooler.”
She’d borrowed my truck to take a large box across town to her parents’ home.
Most country-boys I know, carry in the bed of their trucks’ a few essential items. A shovel, a chain, a few blocks of wood and an ice chest/cooler. These items aren’t on lock-down. By tradition it’s just seen a sign of respect to never ever trespass the truck or take too strong a liking to loose items in the rear. You may covet, we all do; but looky no touchy is the rule.
Crime is not much of a problem in our small town. I replied with proper drama, “Someone stole it from the back of the truck?”
“Some jackass took it.”
I grabbed my key and hustled out to the truck, intent on retracing the route; maybe cruising the lot of the local watering hole, where just such a thief might be toasting his buddies as to the treasure he’d obtained. I was working myself into a good fit, the type most necessary if I found the culprit and a confrontation was needed.
And then… and then… I witnessed the down tailgate on the back of my truck. I looked back toward the house. Sleuth mode ensued. I visualized the likely turn of events. I returned to the house.
I said, “Hey babe, did someone take it from the back of the truck or…”
She shook her head.
“Did you leave the tailgate down and it slid out the back — off to the side of the road?”
She hesitated, nodded. “But, I drove the road several times, looking in the ditches on the side. Some jerk must have seen it, just took it.”
Her perfect eyes told the whole story and I felt her regret. I said, “Some sorry asshole — just — stole it.”
She blinked. We hugged.

The End

Cable Natives, the new book, Bug Trouble is due out next Tuesday, November 15th. Please find it on Amazon.com and share with your friends.

Thank you,
Hartley