Kyle Hogg never dreamed the Sunny Acres Trailer Park would be a sight he’d long to see, but after the night he’d had, even the relative peace of his decrepit Winnebago was cause for celebration.

With a cursory check of the empty Tulsa streets, Kyle scurried from the shadows, his wet shoes squishing softly as he made his way to LOT 2B and home sweet home. Stepping inside, Kyle heaved a sigh of relief and flicked on the lights.

“About time, Fat Boy. I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Kyle’s heart skidded to an icy halt as he spun to find his employer, Lawrence Talbot, aka, Hairy Larry, plopped down on his couch. Dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a pink polo, the RV’s light shimmered on the ebony forest of hair carpeting Larry’s muscled arms and exposed chest.  In fact, the only part of the man which wasn’t covered in thick fur was his clean-shaven face and the round smoothness of his bald head.

“I missed you at our rendezvous, Kyle.”

Larry pushed up from the couch and with a wave of his pistol, motioned Kyle inside. “Go ahead and have a seat.”

“Hey, Larry.” A lame smile played across Kyle’s plump lips. “I was gonna call, but I lost my phone in the river.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Larry smirked. “Because I was startin’ to get the impression you were trying to avoid me.”

As Kyle squeezed through the narrow passage, Larry hurried him along with a pistol-jab to the ribs.

Kyle squealed in terror and dropped onto the couch.

“Don’t hurt me. It wasn’t my fault.” Kyle looked up, his lips trembling “There … there was nothin’ I could do.”

“What do you mean, it wasn’t your fault?” Larry’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s my ice?”

“It was the police,” Kyle said. “They had some kinda checkpoint set up on Riverside. They was stoppin’ everyone, Larry.”

Kyle struggled to breathe through the tightness ringing his chest. Fumbling through the piles of fast-food wrappers and beer cans littering the counter, he spotted his inhaler and gasped in a breath.

“When I pulled into the line of cars at the stop,” Kyle continued, “I didn’t know what to do.”

“You left the dope in the car?” Larry asked with brows rising.

“No, no, I’d never do that.” Kyle waved his hands as if wiping away the allegation. “I knew how important that dope was to you and Fat Sheila. But the cops. They saw me take off, Larry. They came after me.”

He shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m no athlete.” Kyle waved a hand over the swell of his gut and his pencil thin legs. “Just look at me.”

Larry leveled a finger. “Then how the hell did you get away?”

“I jumped in the river before they could catch me. They had spotlights, an’ the helicopter came. But the current was swift. I was past ’em before they set up. I wanted to call, but I lost everything in the water.”

“And the dope?”

Kyle shrank away like a dog expecting a blow. “Gone.”

Larry took an angry step, hand raised.

“Please, no!” Kyle shrank beneath Larry’s upraised arm.

Larry paused, staring down on the trembling Kyle.

“God damn!”  He slammed a fist into the faux wood cabinet leaving a jagged indention. “Sheila’s going to be pissed when she finds out.” He eyed Kyle suspiciously. “If you weren’t so stupid, I’d think you were pulling a fast one. That’s twenty-K worth of ice, Kyle. You think Fat Sheila’s gonna just let that go?”

“No, I swear on my momma’s grave. I didn’t take nothin’.”

Larry leaned back and jabbed the pistol towards Kyle. “How much money you got, Fat Boy?”

Kyle shrugged. “I dunno. A couple hundred bucks.”

“A couple hundred?” Larry shook his head and laughed. “Shit! A couple hundred’s not gonna appease Sheila.”

Kyle did his best to roll into a ball as Larry stepped over and jammed the gun’s muzzle into the back of his head. “You better find some cash pretty fuckin’ fast or you’ll be floatin’ in that river.” He stepped back wiping a hand across his head. “Shit!” Then looking about the camper, Larry’s brows rose. “How much this piece of shit worth?”