The Dead Man Story by Marty Conley

The Dead Man Story by Marty Conley

Author:Marty Conley [Marty Conley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: -
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2016-01-22T05:00:00+00:00


Kat’s condo complex is a gold mine and not just because we sell a bunch of raffle tickets, but also because I learn some new things. Although most people aren’t home when we ring the bell, the times that someone has come to the door they’re usually friendly and generous. Or old and lonely.

Kat’s neighbor, Mrs. Hennessey is delighted to see three kids at her door all wearing hockey jerseys. After she feeds us big bowls of ice cream we learn that her son played hockey when he was younger. Back then kids played hockey with no helmets and no mouthpieces. Also, instead of using plexiglass to go around the top of the boards, they used chain link fence. The only time I ever see chain link fence is at the zoo to keep the animals in their cages. The way she describes old-time hockey it must have been like survival-of-the-fittest. Of course she’s a Bruins fan so she buys five raffle tickets from each of us.

Another lady, Mrs. Rivera, is ecstatic to see us and gets us hanging a bunch of old black and white photographs in dusty frames for her. She insists that the church has sent us to help her, even though we tell her that we’re not from any church but are hockey players. Instead of ice cream, she thanks us with a series of prayers that makes Brady and I giggle. We spend twenty minutes hanging pictures of the woman’s long dead relatives while she tells Kat all about her arthritis. At least she buys three tickets for our time and trouble.

We get two no-answers in a row and are having no luck with number three when the first door we rang finally opens. The man is wearing a shirt that looks like one of those paper napkins at a Thanksgiving table. He doesn’t seem too happy to see three hockey players standing in the hallway, but he invites us in, anyway. Huge wrap-around sunglasses hide his eyes and practically cover his whole face. His head is small and wrinkled like a dried-up prune. Stiff gray hair that’s combed-over covers his bald head. He’s stumped over and shuffles to the center of the room with the coordination of a three-legged dog. He falls into a big recliner chair and when he does, it pushes his shirt up, exposing a plastic bag underneath. One that has something brown inside it. I notice it, but don’t say anything. But Brady does.

“Hey mister, you got something stuck under your shirt.”

“It’s not stuck. So what do you kids want?”

“We’re selling raffle tickets. Our hockey team,” Kat points to her Bulldogs shirt, “is going to Lake Placid for a big tournament. Do you want to buy some tickets?”

“Is that bag supposed to be there?” Brady asks.

“When are you going to Lake Placid?” the man says, ignoring Brady.

“Thanksgiving weekend,” Kat replies.

“What’s that bag for?” Brady asks.

The man sighs. “It’s a colostomy bag. You ever seen one of these before?”

“No. What’s it for?”

The man lifts up his shirt and pulls the bag out some, so we can see it better.



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