Brachman Takes The Wheel - A Short Story

    First, I would just like to state, for the record, that it was not my idea to the dig up the body of the late, diminutive, actor, Herve Villachez. That was Brachman's idea. I was merely being a good friend. Before you judge me, I beg that you, for a second, try to imagine yourself in my place. A friend kindly gives you a lift from the airport, a few weeks later, that same friend appears on your doorstep at two o'clock in the morning, holding a case of beer under one arm and a shovel under the other, and asks your assistance with a small task. Would you say no? So, if being a good friend is a crime, than I stand convicted.

    Yes, I am aware that grave-robbery is, in fact, a crime. But it was never our intention to steal Mr. Villachez's corpse. We only wished to borrow it. Had not we been curtailed in our adventure, Mr. Villachez's body would be back in its grave and no one would be the wiser, and there'd be no bruised feeling, either.

    His arms? Well, yes, that was very unfortunate, but please rest assured that both Brachman and I planned to go back and look for the right arm, once there was sufficient light. I mean, how many tiny arms could there be just lying along interstate 5? As, I'm sure that you're well aware of, we have the left arm and to be quiet frank...

    How did his arms come off? Well, you see, when we tied the body to the grill of Brachman's Cadillac... OK, I can tell that I'd better back up a bit. You see, after we exhum...liberated Mr. Villachez, we discovered two things. The first was that he was stiff as a board. The second thing that we discovered was that Mr. Villachez had - how show a put this? - a very definite "bouquet". This should by no means be taken as a reflection on the late Mr. Villachez's personal hygiene. I'm sure that, despite being French, Mr. Villachez was quite fastidious in life. What you need to understand is that Brachman worked hard for that Cadillac, so he wasn't about to risk befouling its interior - or even its trunk. That's why we tied the body to the grill. I mean, what would you have done?

    OK, OK. I'm getting to the arms. Brachman tends to have a "heavy foot" if you know what I mean? You don't know what I mean? Well, he tends to drive just a tad too fast. Mind you, I've spoken to him about on several occasions and he has gotten better... Yes. The arms. We were going about 95 miles an hour down interstate 5 when Herve's arms started to move. I'm sure that you can image our surprise. When we tied him to the grill with jumper cables, those arms seemed like they were glued to his sides. I guess all that was needed was a little wind (and going 95 miles and hour, as I see in retrospect, will generate more than a little wind) to snap Mr. Villachez's shoulder bones.

    Why didn't we pull over, right away? I assure you that we would've, had not the song YMCA been playing on the radio at the time. I'm not making this up, I swear. Mr. Villachez's flapping arms were spelling out the letters YMCA. I couldn't believe it either. To be honest, they only spelled out the letters Y, M, and C before the right arm tore loose, smacked against the windshield, and was gone. Fortunately, my window was rolled down, so, a few seconds later, when the left are came off, it flew in my window and landed on the back seat. Oh, I can smile about it now, but at the time...Huh? I was getting to that.

    Well, the arms thing put the kibosh on our original plans which were to use Mr. Villachez's corpse to bring a little happiness and joy into this world. How? Well, we were planning on rigging him up like a ventriloquist's dummy - yes, which explains the wire through his cheeks - and visiting children's wards at various hospitals. Those kids could use a little cheering up, but once the his arms were gone we didn't think he's be appropriate entertainment for young people.

    Ricardo Montalban? Yes. I would just like to say that I feel terrible about that. That, too, was Brachman's idea. You see, once our plans to visit sick children were dashed, we drove around for about an hour trying to think of just what to do with Mr. Villachez. It seemed to early in the adventure to return him. I was about to suggest that we stop by Denny's, because they're always open and digging up a body is, honestly, hungry work, when Brachman asked me to fish around in the glove compartment for one of those "Maps to Movie Stars' Homes" that he'd bought about a year ago. When I asked him why, he said that it was a surprise. At the time, I had no idea that it wasn't me Brachman was planning to surprise.

    We pulled to the side of the road; Brachman studied the map for a few minutes, then clapped peeled out back onto the highway. About a half an hour later, I was sitting in the car as Brachman tossed Herve's body over a high wall. Then Brachman climbed over the wall. So, anyway, I'm just sitting there and then I hear a doorbell ring. About thirty seconds later I hear Brockman voice saying "Hey boss, da plane! Da Plane!" That was followed, almost immediately, by a horrible scream. Please tell Mr. Montalban that I'm terribly sorry about all that. Brachman's sense of humor can, from time-to-time, get a little out of hand.

    Well, I guess there's not much more to tell. Mr. Villachez came back over the wall, followed by Brachkman. Brachman tied Herve back to the grill and we sped off. We were only on the road about 15 minutes when we saw the flashing lights in the rear view mirror.

    Now, I'm not one to criticize the police, but the arresting officer asked us why we had a dead midget tied to the grill of the car. Please inform him that they prefer to be called "little people". I, for one, find that sort of insensitivity to be very offensive.