Stepping over the mess in the yard, I open the front door.
"Honey?" I call.
"Here," I hear my wife say.
Crossing the entryway and turning the corner into the kitchen, I see Amanda boiling something, spaghetti maybe.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"Sure," she says, turning to plant a kiss on my cheek.
"There are...um..." I say, pointing back to the door.
"Hm?" she noises, looking vaguely in the direction I'm pointing.
"Bodies," I say. "Dead bodies on the front lawn."
"Halloween decoration?" she asks.
"No," I say. "You really don't know where they came from? Two men? One has a beard?"
I watch her think for a moment, and then her eyes brighten.
"Oh!" she says. "The spam!"
"The what?" I ask.
"Those guys," she says. "They came ringing the doorbell, interrupting me, not leaving me alone, trying to sell me something. It was annoying."
I walk back to the front door and peer at the bodies.
"I think one of them is Mr. Greenberg," I say.
"Really?" I hear my wife ask, padding across the floor to my side.
She stares with me for a moment. "He's wearing a hat," she says.
"That's true," I say.
She looks at me. "That's why I didn't recognize him," she says.
"So...do you know why they're...uh...there?" I ask.
"I imagine that's where they fell," she says, and turns to me. "Does Mr. Greenberg sell insurance?"
"I don't think so," I say. "I think he's retired. So to speak."
Amanda laughs.
"It's just that he seemed so alarmist when he came to the door," she says.
"Probably saw the body," I say.
"Ahhh," she says, pointing at me with an aren't-you-such-a-smartypants look.
"We should do something with them," I say.
We stare at the bodies for a moment, and then turn simultaneously to look at each other.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Amanda asks.
"I think so..." I say, and shout "Meat!" just as she yells "Puppets!"
"Oh," she says.
"I mean," I say, "it doesn't have to be meat."
"No, no," she says, "that's a good idea. It's just that I've already defrosted some chicken."
"Let's do puppets, then," I say.
"Are you sure?" she asks.
"Definitely," I say. "Puppets are fun."
"Honey?" I call.
"Here," I hear my wife say.
Crossing the entryway and turning the corner into the kitchen, I see Amanda boiling something, spaghetti maybe.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"Sure," she says, turning to plant a kiss on my cheek.
"There are...um..." I say, pointing back to the door.
"Hm?" she noises, looking vaguely in the direction I'm pointing.
"Bodies," I say. "Dead bodies on the front lawn."
"Halloween decoration?" she asks.
"No," I say. "You really don't know where they came from? Two men? One has a beard?"
I watch her think for a moment, and then her eyes brighten.
"Oh!" she says. "The spam!"
"The what?" I ask.
"Those guys," she says. "They came ringing the doorbell, interrupting me, not leaving me alone, trying to sell me something. It was annoying."
I walk back to the front door and peer at the bodies.
"I think one of them is Mr. Greenberg," I say.
"Really?" I hear my wife ask, padding across the floor to my side.
She stares with me for a moment. "He's wearing a hat," she says.
"That's true," I say.
She looks at me. "That's why I didn't recognize him," she says.
"So...do you know why they're...uh...there?" I ask.
"I imagine that's where they fell," she says, and turns to me. "Does Mr. Greenberg sell insurance?"
"I don't think so," I say. "I think he's retired. So to speak."
Amanda laughs.
"It's just that he seemed so alarmist when he came to the door," she says.
"Probably saw the body," I say.
"Ahhh," she says, pointing at me with an aren't-you-such-a-smartypants look.
"We should do something with them," I say.
We stare at the bodies for a moment, and then turn simultaneously to look at each other.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Amanda asks.
"I think so..." I say, and shout "Meat!" just as she yells "Puppets!"
"Oh," she says.
"I mean," I say, "it doesn't have to be meat."
"No, no," she says, "that's a good idea. It's just that I've already defrosted some chicken."
"Let's do puppets, then," I say.
"Are you sure?" she asks.
"Definitely," I say. "Puppets are fun."