A Fistful of Tannenbaum Chapter 3: Danger Cabin!

Editor's Note: Millionaire raconteur Jed Foster was dragged back into a life of adventure by an old acquaintance, Hans "Two-Bit" Reilly, who may never be referred to as "Two-Bit" again, outside the Editor's Note. They climbed a mountain, there was some reference to a girl named Audreybell and a free backrub coupon, and a lot of horseshit about a lockbox.

They had started to open the door to the cabin when Jed grabbed Reilly's arm, stopping him.

"Careful, the door's wired," said Jed.

Reilly pulled his gun dramatically. "So, the door's been working for the cops the whole time."

"No, not that kind of wire—explosives. One wrong move and the whole cabin could go up like a cigar smoker in a Tennessee fireworks stand."

"First the door's stooling for the cops, now he's strapped up with TNT. He's out of his fucking mind."

Jed ignored his temporary partner and unrigged the door, snipping the wire carefully with his bomb-neutralizing scissors, $500 from the L.L. Bean catalogue. He nudged the door open with his foot, shielding himself behind Reilly just in case, and nodded. The smell of old wood and Ben Gay wafted from the cabin.

"It looks like they actually left it empty," said Reilly with a smile.

Jed shook his head. "You know what they say about appearances?"

"They're worth two-thousand words."

"No, you just made that up. They say they're deceiving," clarified Jed. He told Reilly to search the corners and not let his gun drop at all. Jed took a folding shovel from his backpack and pried up the floorboards, until he was sure the cabin was unoccupied.

"The lockbox!" reminded Reilly. "We've got to find the lockbox."

"Look in the wall safe, behind that picture."

Reilly took down a handsome portrait of Audreybell, who had once been the love of Jed's life. The picture stared back at him, flat, oily, a pale shadowy image of a real person—just like Audreybell had been. While Jed was lost in his thoughts, refusing to ask for directions, Reilly chipped into the wood behind the portrait. Wood gathered in pieces at his feet, until he broke through the wall and the cold breeze blew in and chilled them.

"It's gone!" shouted Reilly. "The wall safe has been stolen!"

"Oh, that's right. We didn't have a wall safe. It's under the bed."

From under a thin mattress on rusty springs, Reilly pulled up the famous gray steel lockbox. He shook it with excitement.

"We got it, Jed! I can't believe it was this easy!" he stated prophetically.

Before Jed had a chance to make a statement soon proven ironic, two men burst out from behind the door with their guns drawn.

"Damn!" cursed Jed. "Behind the door! I always forget about behind the door."

"Do you recognize me, Foster?" wheezed the more muscular of the two villains. He pointed at a black eye patch with his gloved finger. "You gave me this!"

"Yes, I felt sorry for you after you shot your eye out with that B.B. gun," said Jed solemnly. "But just because we exchanged a few gifts doesn't mean I'm going to let you take the lockbox, Fango."

"Too bad, Jed," said Fango, cocking his gun, as his associate gunned his cock. "I had hoped our old friendship might help us avoid some bloodshed. But it's for the best. After all, I love bloodshed! Almost as much as I love candy."



Next Chapter: Different Day, Same Bullets

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