The Skinny Man
He slowed to a halt and peered out the window as he asked the fateful question: “Need a ride?”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” said the skinny hitchhiker with the large case. “I’m heading south.”
“So am I,” said the driver. “I can cut a lot of time out of your trip.”
“You’re sure it’s not too far out of your way?” said the skinny man, clutching his case and looking back and forth.
“Actually, I’m not making any turns anytime soon,” said the driver.
“Okay,” said the skinny man. He patted the bulge on the side of his coat—the bulge that seemed to have a handle and barrel.
********
“Thanks for stopping,” said the skinny passenger. “I’ve been out there a long time.” He looked out the back window again.
“Something wrong?” said the driver.
“No! No, no, everything’s just fine.” The skinny man patted the bulge on the side of his coat.
The driver noticed. “So…I guess you don’t want to hear a lot of questions?”
The skinny man began to sweat.
The driver shrugged. “Fine by me; I’ve never been the curious type.”
The skinny man nodded, but now he looked at the driver.
“So…where are you headed?” said the skinny man.
“Hey, I don’t ask questions, you don’t ask questions,” said the driver, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
The skinny man opened his mouth, then closed it. “Fair enough,” he said, patting the bulge on the side of his coat.
********
The sun reached its peak. The car had been the only vehicle on the lonely stretch of highway all morning.
But now an exit was coming up. The driver changed lanes, as though meaning to get off.
“Uh, you sure this is your exit?” said the skinny man. “Because I’ve really been enjoying the scenery, and I don’t mind traveling a bit longer.”
“I’m sure,” said the driver. “Just need to make a pit stop.”
“NO!” said the skinny man. “No, please, just…keep going.”
The driver turned onto the exit.
“Okay, you asked for it!”
The skinny man pulled his handgun out of his holster and thrust it against the driver’s head.
“Drive on!”
“What are you doing?!”
“Stay on the freeway or else!”
“All right! All right! You’re gonna make me swerve and we’ll crash! Do you want that?!”
“Just…keep going….”
The driver missed his exit.
********
“Look, pal, I didn’t offer you a ride so you could point guns at me,” said the driver when the exit behind them was well out of sight.
“I didn’t want to, but you made me do it,” said the skinny man, still holding the driver at gunpoint.
“I’ve been a nice guy, haven’t I?” said the driver. “I offered you a ride. I didn’t ask any questions.”
“Just…don’t try anything funny.”
“All right, all right, just please put the gun down.”
The skinny man’s hand trembled. He lowered the gun, but did not put it back in his holster.
“What did you think I was going to do, turn you in?”
The skinny man pursed his lips, but said nothing.
“Do you think I’m that type?”
The skinny man raised an eyebrow.
“We’ve all had our run-ins with the law, you know.”
The skinny man clutched his gun more tightly. “Who said anything about that?”
The driver looked at his passenger through the rear-view mirror. “This is your first time, right? You’re doing a lousy job of hiding it. If I hadn’t found you, the cops would follow you out of sheer suspicion.”
“…Are you trying to trick me?”
The driver shrugged. “I really don’t care what you did. That’s not my business. But do you really want to threaten your best ticket to freedom?”
The skinny man clutched his case. “…What’s in this for you?”
“What’s in the case?”
The skinny man trembled.
“That’s what I thought,” said the driver. “You don’t ask questions, I don’t ask questions.”
The skinny man clutched his gun more tightly.
********
The sun had set.
“Okay, you can stop the car now,” said the skinny man.
The driver did not stop.
“I said this is as far as I go!”
The driver looked at his passenger. “You think so?”
The skinny man put his gun to the driver’s head. “Stop or you get it!”
The driver did not stop.
********
The police could not explain how a car got on the freeway with no driver, and a dead skinny man in the backseat.