Dating : Drowning in the Desert

How does a man drown in the desert? The answer is surprisingly simple: hair gel.

Hair gel wasn’t made to withstand 42 degrees of Arizona heat and, on this particularly hot night, Tony Lorano was drowning. A congealed mess of sweat and hair gel soaked into his collar. These coppers were getting on his nerves.

Two cops entered the bar through the unmarked door. Only Lorano knew they were cops, of course.

“Ok Chuck, we go up to Lorano, we tape the conversation, we take the money, and we scram. We’ll have all the evidence we need to put him away for good.”

“Sure Bob, but what if he doesn’t buy it?”

“They always buy it. It never fails.”

As they sidled up to the booth, Chuck got the impression that it might fail.

He could feel the hair gel sliding down his neck, grabbing him with a clammy grasp. He took a moment to wipe some off with a napkin and adjust his collar. His vision blurred as he shuddered.

Bob, however, was right at home. He had long since accustomed himself to the stench of sweat and hair gel. If this job went well, he’d put Lorano away and make a sweet buck.

The sound of denim on leather as they slid into the booth marked their arrival. Tony Lorano opened a pair of red eyes and blew some friendly smoke at them as a greeting.

“Take the money and get out of here” came a voice, thick with alcohol.

Bob’s had moved eagerly towards the money. Chuck’s angry look stopped him.

Click

“What do we need to do in order to get the money?” Chuck asked. Oh god, the click of the tape recorder was really loud, he was sure Lorano had heard it.

Lorano hadn’t heard it.

“Stop peeping in on my warehouses. It’s my business, not yours.”

“Done.”

As Bob’s hand reached for the money a second time, Chuck realised.

The room had been slowly filling up.

Thick, translucent liquid.

Hair gel.

Chuck was up to his knees, sticky with the grease and the sleaze. The crimes stuck to him like honey.

His head spun wildly to Bob, but he was too far gone; Bob was in over his head in the stuff, suffocating, choking, thriving.

Chuck was right, things had failed.

Bob shot Tony. Chuck shot Bob.

When the real police arrived, they found two bodies and Chuck.

“What happened” one officer asked.

Chuck thought for a moment, and answered as honestly as he could:

“They drowned.”