Home > Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr. > Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.: Murder on the Southern Limited

Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.: Murder on the Southern Limited

June 24, 2014 Leave a comment Go to comments
By Dick Oakes, Jr.

By Dick Oakes, Jr.

 

I had won a little money at cards so I bought a sleeper car ticket on the Southern Limited.

It was a tiny fourth class room with a window and two cots. The guy opposite me was wearing a crumpled suit. I had had an awful lot of beer, so I kept having to get up during the night to piss. Every time I did, just as I was about to close the sliding door into the corridor, the guy ripped his pants off suddenly.

After a couple hours of this, I grew weary. I hesitated to get back into my cot, hesitated to touch anything. Around 3AM, the porter brought a bucket of small pizzas. He said, “Look, fellows. Small pizzas. They’re just like regular pizzas only smaller. They have all the rudimentary ingredients of a pizza, they are standard in every other conceivable way, it’s just that they are smaller. They are diminutive pizzas.” He paused and fingered the brass buttons of his uniform. “Please fill out the proper forms once you’ve finished.”

The Southern Limited.

The Southern Limited.

When he was finally gone, my bunkmate leaped onto the buckets and devoured the pizzas handily. I allowed it; I figured on it being his last meal. When he was almost done, he started to slowly unzip his pants. That’s when I brained him.

I crept out into the corridor and waited for the next stop. It was another empty station, another dimly-lit, dead mill town. There was a sign that said Welcome to Heaves and a smaller, faded sign for the Koala Bears and Walnuts Club. Eventually, I came upon a country line store. I fell asleep in a rocking chair on the porch.

I was nudged awake by a hairless man; he was seven foot tall if he was an inch. He told me that I had to buy something and he had the meat to back it up. It was then that I realized my wallet was gone.

He put me to work repairing the rusted corrugated shingles of the porch roof. He called me down for lunch and I ate some small pizzas out of a bucket in the merciless sun. I was so exhausted that I did not question the recent preponderance of small pizzas. It was late evening when he finally let me go. “In the name of all that is decent, you should be dead,” he said. He handed me a bottle and some highly-compressed hams in a paper bag and sent me on my way.

I wandered into town. There was another closed feed store but I stayed away from it. Went around back to sleep in the waving fields of alfalfa. It was there that I found Zelda and things changed forever.

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