A Perfect Romance

by Layce Gardner

  Dana stood back about five paces from the passenger window. She walked in place, pretending to be walking down the street. She wanted to know what the casual observer would see if they glanced at the ice cream truck as it drove by.

  Dana glanced at the truck. She looked away. She glanced again. She looked away. Just as she thought. It looked like a dead woman was slumped in the passenger seat.

  Dana stopped walking in place and thought about the predicament. Maybe Dead Kimmy wouldn't look so dead if the truck was in motion when somebody looked at her. Of course, Dana couldn't drive the truck and look at Dead Kimmy through the passenger window at the same time, so she did the next best thing—she walked about twenty yards in front of the truck and jogged by. She glanced up at Dead Kimmy as she passed.

  She still looked pretty dead.

  Dana opened the passenger door and moved Dead Kimmy's legs out of the way so she could root around in the glovebox. She found an old pair of sunglasses with yellow-tinted lenses. She stuck the glasses on Dead Kimmy's face. They didn't make her look any more un-dead, but at this point anything was an improvement.

  Dana walked about forty yards in front of the truck. She bent over, all poised like an Olympic runner in the starting blocks. She counted to three and sprang out of the blocks, racing as fast as she could by the truck.

  She glanced up at Dead Kimmy. And looked away.

  Dana stopped. She bent over with her hands on her knees. She was out of breath and probably would've thrown up if she'd eaten anything this morning, which she hadn't.

  Dead Kimmy would have to do. If anybody asked, she'd say Dead Kimmy had drunk too much and passed out.

  Dana climbed into the truck, drove out of the yard, down the driveway and onto the street. A couple of blocks over she turned onto Main Street and headed north. If she could get through town without being noticed, she might have a chance to dispose of the body. Fat chance with the Jesus music blaring over the speaker, but what else could she do?

  Dana had no idea how Dead Kimmy came to be dead, but she did know that she had to get the body as far as possible away from her. And while she was at it, she could make Dead Kimmy's death look like an accident. Or even a suicide. That way Dana wouldn't be a suspect.

  Dana looked over at Dead Kimmy as her floppy head rattled against the window.

  Dead Kimmy has to die. Well, okay, she's already dead. Dead Kimmy has to die again.

  A red stoplight interrupted Dana's thoughts and forced her to slam on the brakes. Dead Kimmy's body jerked forward against the seatbelt, then slammed back into the seat. Her head conked against the glass window.

  "Whoops," Dana said. "Sorry 'bout that."

  Dana forced a smile across her worried face while she sat through the light. It wasn't easy to look nonchalant while dressed as Wonder Woman and driving an ice cream truck bellowing Sunday School muzak and a dead woman in the passenger seat.

  Dana caught a few people throwing her sidelong glances. Or was it her imagination? She thought if she were seen talking to Dead Kimmy people might think Dead Kimmy was really Live Kimmy and their suspicions wouldn't be aroused. So she struck up a conversation. "I'm hungry. Are you?"

  Dead Kimmy didn't answer.

  "We could swing through McDonald's and get one of those McMuffin things. You wanna?"

  Dead Kimmy didn't answer.

  "Yeah, they're really fattening, but they're tasty, don't you think?"

  Dead Kimmy ignored her.

  "Well, okay, you don't have to get all upset. We won't eat a fatty McMuffin, then."

  Dead Kimmy gave her the silent treatment.

  Dana sighed. "I really need to go on a diet anyway. But every time I do, I end up getting so hungry that I eat more and gain weight. I'm the only person in the world who gains weight by going on a diet."

  The light changed to green and Dana eased the truck through the intersection. By this time she was so caught up in her conversation with Dead Kimmy, it was only natural for her to assume both speaking roles for the sake of continuity. Dana attempted to do the ventriloquist thing and throw Dead Kimmy's voice without moving her lips. She made Dead Kimmy's voice higher pitched. "You don't need to go on a diet," Dana said as Dead Kimmy pretending to be Live Kimmy. "You are beautiful and sexy."

  "Why, thank you, Kimmy," Dana said in a baritone voice. She tossed in a few exaggerated gestures. "But I can barely fit in my Wonder Woman costume anymore. I'd like to lose forty or thirty pounds. Or sixty would be even better."

  "You're full of horsefeathers," said Dead Kimmy. "You are gorgeous and sexy and talented and I want to make love to you right now. Pull over."

  Dana laughed as herself. "You sure know how to make a girl feel good. And, no, we can't make love right here in an ice cream truck on Main Street. We'd get arrested. And, besides, you're dead and that's gross."

  "Well, if I were alive, I'd ravage you right here and now," said Dead Kimmy.

  Dana braked at another stoplight and said, "Seriously though, I'm thinking of a new diet. I could only eat Pop Tarts. Nothing but Pop Tarts. Or maybe I'll only eat foods that begin with a ‘P.’ Like popcorn. And peas."

  "And peanut butter," Dead Kimmy said as Dana in a voice that sounded like Live Kimmy imitating Dana.

  Wait a minute. I'm getting confused. She said that as me? I was saying things as myself and as her and now I'm saying things as her saying them as me? Who am I again?

  Before Dana could answer herself, a lawn mower pulled up in the lane beside Dead Kimmy's window. Dana looked over and saw Hank standing up on his lawnmower and looking back at her. Dana smiled tightly. Hank grinned and tipped his hat. Then he looked right into Dead Kimmy's face, grinned and tipped his ball cap at her.

  Dead Kimmy ignored him.

  Hank frowned. He rapped on her window with his knuckles. Dead Kimmy didn't even flinch.

  Hank looked back at Dana. He pointed at Dead Kimmy as if to say "What the hell's wrong with her?"

  Dana smiled and playfully socked Kimmy in the arm, mouthing the words, "Hey, Kimmy, look, it's Hank. Wave at Hank." She reached over and grabbed Dead Kimmy's limp arm. She held on to her elbow below Hank's line of vision and raised Dead Kimmy's arm in the air. By turning her elbow back and forth, she made Dead Kimmy's hand do a twisting-in-the-lightbulb wave at Hank. Her hand was jiggly and floppy, but Hank didn't notice.

  He grinned and flopped his hand back at her.

  The light turned green and Dana floored the truck, leaving Hank sitting on his lawnmower, still waving.

  ***

  Dana had made so many turns down gravel roads that she was lost. She pulled the truck to the side. While driving, she had been thinking up a course of action. She hadn't seen any marks—blood, bruises or cuts—on Dead Kimmy's body. Dead Kimmy's head was a little floppy, but she didn't think her neck was broken. That meant when Dana staged Dead Kimmy's fake death, she needed to make sure the body looked like that was how she really died. In other words, if Dana staged a hit and run, she better run over the body for real or the lack of bruises and broken bones would be a dead giveaway that it didn't really happen that way.

  That was Dana's plan. Lay Dead Kimmy in the middle of the road and run over her with the ice cream truck. It was a sound plan, a foolproof plan.

  Dana got out of the truck and opened Dead Kimmy's door. She unbuckled her seatbelt, and took her sunglasses off and put them on her own face. She turned around so her back was facing Dead Kimmy and draped her limp arms over her shoulders. She carried her like a sack of potatoes thrown over her shoulders. A really heavy sack.

  Light as a feather. Light as a feather.

  Kimmy was several inches taller than Dana, which meant Kimmy's bare feet drug in the gravel behind her as she stumbled down the road. After about thirty yards, Dead Kimmy slipped out of her grip and crumpled to the gravel. Dana squatted down beside Dead Kimmy and counted by threes until she caught her breath.

  Dana listened to the song playing on the ice cream truck's speaker. Why hadn’t she turne
d off the engine? That song was going to be stuck in her head all day.

  “Jesus loves me—”

  Dana rolled Dead Kimmy out of her bathrobe-cape.

  “This I know—”

  She tied the bathrobe-cape back around her own neck.

  “For the Bible—”

  She grabbed Dead Kimmy by the ankles and scooted her around until she was perpendicular to the road.

  “Tells me so.”

  Dana looked back at the truck, then down at Kimmy, then back at the truck like she was lining up her pool stick to sink the eight ball in the corner pocket. She moved the body a little more to her left. A few more inches and the truck's tires should hit her straight on and she wouldn't even have to aim with the steering wheel.

  Dana looked back to the truck, double checking to see if—

  Oh my God!

  The truck was rolling straight for her! Dana had left the engine running and forgot to put on the parking brake!

  The truck gained momentum as it rolled down the hill, headed straight for Dana and Dead Kimmy. Dana performed an acrobatic forward diving roll into the rain ditch. She jumped back up in time to witness the truck's right tire just as it was about to—

  Ew, yucky. I can't look.

  She put her hands over her eyes and cringed as she heard a grotesque, squishy noise that sounded like somebody stepping on wet bubble wrap.

  Dana peeked through her fingers and saw the ice cream truck was picking up speed and barreling down the road. Dana fixed her eyes on the driver’s side door and hauled ass. It took her a good fifty yards to catch up to the truck and another twenty to be able to grip the door handle. She was gasping for breath and felt like she was breathing fire as she threw open the door and heaved herself inside. She threw the truck into second gear, and a few moments later, she was driving down the road like nothing had happened.

  Thumpity-thump, thumpity-thump, thumpity-thump.

  "Oh no," Dana mumbled, "not a flat tire. Not now." She craned her neck to look in the right side view mirror, but she couldn't see a thing.

  She pulled over to the side of the road and this time turned off the engine and put on the parking brake. She got out and walked around the front of the truck, checking the two front tires. They looked okay. She headed for the back and—

  Holy Moly!

  That noise wasn't a flat tire. It was Dead Kimmy. Her dead arm had got caught in the rear bumper and the truck had drug her all the way down the hill. How the hell had she missed that?

  Dana didn't have much time to deliberate on what to do next because she saw a cloud of dust about a mile back up the road. There was a car coming. And from the looks of it, it was headed her way at a pretty good clip.

  Dana quickly opened the back doors of the truck, untangled Dead Kimmy from the bumper and threw her body inside. She jumped inside the truck and closed the doors behind her. She drug Dead Kimmy over to the freezer and lifted her body inside with the other dead animals. She had to curl Dead Kimmy's head down between her knees to get her to fit. That would keep her from stinking the place up while Dana decided what to do. She should've thought of that earlier.

  She jumped into the driver's seat just as CeCe White's purple Gremlin slowly passed by. Dana smiled and waved. What CeCe was doing out here, Dana had no idea. And she didn't want to find out either.

  Two minutes later, Dana pulled out onto the highway and was formulating Plan B.

  ***

  Dana drove up and down a maze of country roads until her nerves were somewhat calm and Plan B was concocted. She stopped the truck alongside a cow pasture and opened up the deep freeze. Getting Dead Kimmy into the freezer was a lot easier than getting her out. She was like one of Maw Maw's frozen roadkills except bigger. Dana had to knock a lot of ice off Dead Kimmy 's extremities (extremi-titties) to pry her out of the freezer.

  She laid Dead Kimmy out on the floor to inspect the damage. There was a tire track across her boobs (fake boobs must make good bubble wrap because she didn’t appear to be crushed at all), gravel embedded in her butt, freezer burn on her nose, nipples and toes, but surprisingly enough, that was all.

  A clap of thunder and a burst of lightning made Dana jump. She looked out the front windshield and saw a barrage of big, fat raindrops. Another clap of thunder sent Dana flying into the driver's seat. She was going to have to hurry with Plan B before she got rained out.

  Dana turned the truck into the next left, bumping over a cattle guard and aiming for a lone tree in the middle of the pasture. She flipped a U-ey and backed up to the tree.

  It took her about two minutes to find a long rope in back of the truck and about three more minutes to tie it around Dead Kimmy's neck in a respectable noose. Thank God for those Girl Scout badges she'd had to earn.

  Dana threw open the back doors and hopped out into pasture, splattering mud and cow poop all over her Wonder Woman boots. She rolled Dead Kimmy out of the back of the truck, and let her plop into the mud. She drug her by wrists through the pouring rain and situated her under a limb of the big oak tree. It took Dana four tries to throw the end of the rope over the limb.

  Where's a golden lasso when you need one?

  Dana pulled on the end of the rope and, using her body weight, jerked Dead Kimmy into a sitting position. The more Dana pulled, the more Dead Kimmy flopped around like a Raggedy Ann who was missing all her stuffing. Dana pulled as hard as she could but only managed to get Dead Kimmy's butt about six inches off the ground.

  Dana wiped her wet hair out of her eyes, gritted her teeth, held her breath and leaned all her weight into the rope and then pulled again. That got Dead Kimmy about a foot higher in the air. Now she looked more like a puppet with some broken strings.

  Dana peered through the rain and saw a herd of curious cows had come up to inspect the commotion. The cows formed a loose circle around Dana and Dead Kimmy, eyeing them suspiciously.

  I wonder if I could get one of the cows to pull for me?

  Dana held on to the rope with one hand and stretched out her other to the friendliest-looking cow. "C'mere, cow. C'mere cow-cow."

  The cow looked at her like she'd gone mad. Dana clucked her tongue. "Sooey. Soo, cow, sooey."

  The cow rolled her eyes.

  "Okay, then, don't help me. Just for that, I'm having a hamburger for dinner."

  Then an idea hit her. It was so simple. She could use the truck to pull Kimmy. She tied the rope to the bumper of the truck. The bravest of the cows plodded over and sniffed Dead Kimmy. Dana jumped back into the truck and put it in gear. She figured if she drove about ten feet or so, that would be enough to lift Dead Kimmy into the air and hang her. Then all she had to do was turn the truck around and make a pass under the limb, then park, climb up on the roof and tie the rope into a knot around the limb.

  Dana pressed on the accelerator. The truck's wheels spun. And spun. And spun.

  Crapola! I'm stuck!

  Dana floored it. The engine vroomed, the tires spun madly, then the back of the truck fishtailed, whipping about in the soft earth. Mud splattered high in the air and rained down on the front windshield.

  A second later, the back tires caught hold and the truck lurched forward. The steering wheel whipped out of her hands and when she tried to wrestle it back into control, the truck ended up doing a donut in the middle of the pasture, spinning round and round and round…

  Dana grabbed the wheel, braced her right foot on the dash and pulled the wheel the other way. The truck leaned on two wheels, threatened to topple, then thudded back onto all four wheels. During all the whoopty-do, Dana must've kicked something on the dashboard because now the music was playing triple time—

  “JesuslovesmethisIknowfortheBibletellsmeso…”

  —and sounded like Alvin the Chipmunk on helium.

  Dana quickly put the truck into neutral and rolled down her window. She stuck her head outside and tried to see behind her through the sheet of rain. She could make out the tree, but not Dead Kimmy.

  Oh
my God, I don't even see the limb she was hanging from.

  Dana jumped out, ran to the back of the truck and skidded to a halt when she saw Dead Kimmy stretched out beside the tree limb, covered in mud. The limb had broken and she'd drug both it and Dead Kimmy through the mud.

  Dead Kimmy looks like a chocolate éclair.

  Dana's stomach growled.

  A cow appeared out of the rain and walked slowly toward Dead Kimmy. Another cow appeared. And then another. Until the whole herd had Dead Kimmy surrounded. They stared at Dead Kimmy with a wild, feral look in their eyes.

  Dana was no expert on cows or cow diets, but she figured if she thought Dead Kimmy looked like a dessert, then they might too.

  She hurried back to the truck, jumped inside and peeled out. She drove for the gate as fast as the wheels would go, dragging Dead Kimmy behind her, bouncing over ruts and cow trails, plowing through a bale of hay, slip-sliding in the mud, and when she got to the gate—it wasn't there.

  Where's the effing gate?

  Dana wiped the condensation off the front windshield and squinted through the driving rain. She jerked the wheel to the left and circled the perimeter of the pasture, looking for the gate.

  She looked in the side mirror and saw—

  Holy cow!

  —the herd of cows were chasing her. Or rather, they were chasing Dead Kimmy as she bounced through the muck behind the truck.

  Dana sped up, zig-zagging around the pasture, but every time she zigged, the cows zagged. She couldn't shake them off her tail. She whipped Dead Kimmy around the muddy pasture three times before she found the gate.

  Dana blasted the truck out the gate, over the cow guard and onto the dirt road. She stopped the truck and jumped out, running to the back.

  The cow guard had stopped the cows from leaving the pasture, but they were lined up along the barbwire fence staring, daring her to come back inside.

  Dana walked back to where Dead Kimmy was laying in the road with the noose around her neck. She looked like she'd been tarred and feathered with mud and hay and maybe even cow poop. Her neck looked fine except for an Indian burn on her skin. The branch must've broken before she could hang too long.