Ficlets

Where Is He Now?

His hat ended up in Waukegan, still on his head, which is in a dumpster behind a Dairy Queen. Oh, one of his fingers is in his mouth.

His torso, I think, we put in the trunk of a junked Civic, in a Montana scrapyard. I don’t remember the name of the town, it starts with an “L.” His shirt ended up in Pittsburgh, atop a crate of rotting oranges behind a Chinese restaurant.

His left arm ended up in Cleveland. We thought about sending the torso there, as an inside joke, but it was maybe too obscure. The right arm was put in a FedEx mailer that was meant for London but I don’t know if it got there.

His right hand (except for one finger) is in Atlanta. His left hand is in Los Angeles.

His legs went to Seneca Falls and Atlantic City. The khakis went to Mrs. Mildred Amstead of Oil City, Caddo Parish, LA.

His left foot went to Toronto and his right to Maza City, ND. Well, except for the little toe of his right foot, which we sent to his mother. That little piggy went home.

No one knows where his shoes ended up.

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