"ELIZABETH! GODDAMMIT! GET BACK HERE!" Whined Mark.. This wasn't ANYTHING like James Bond.. It wasn't even Mission Impossible or even Get Smart.. This sucked. He sighed, "Green... Mark Green!" dropped his end of the rug, and swivelled on his heel, cocking an imaginary gun struck a pose. "Come and get me you bastards!" He sneered under his breath.
"Mark.. What are you doing?!" Abby was standing in the doorway, fully dressed, but it gaped in all the right places.
Mark blushed. "Uhh.. Waiting for Elizabeth. She was.. going inside for.. something.." He had found one of these perfect gaping spots and couldn't take his eyes off it.
"Mark?! Heyyyyy... Mark?!" Abby waved her hand in front of Mark's glazed expression. He had been dreaming of Abby and Elizabeth wrestling in a vat of rice pudding. His mother used to make the most wonderful rice pudding. Mark had started to drool.
Abby yelled back in the house. "Hey! Elizabeth!? Does Mark have any medications he should be on?!"
"Mark!? Oh screw it.." While Mark stared dreamily off into space, thinking of Abby and Elizabeth making out on top of his mother's warm fresh baked cookies and apple pie, Abby had grabbed the rug and flung it into the trunk. "Seeya later Larry." She muttered.
"His name is Lawrence..." Replied Elizabeth, as she returned from the kitchen. She hadn't phoned the police, although the thought had been very tempting, but how was she going to explain a body in her rug?! And a body in duck boxers no less..
Luka had followed Elizabeth out of the kitchen and was nodding readily, his arms folded across his chest. Elizabeth blushed and cast sideways glances at Luka. God.. He was certainly well.. attired... If only Mark had something like that, she mightn't have cared so much when Mark went for his daily naked 'I can't find any of my damn clothes!' runs through the house.
"Yes.. We should call him his proper name Le.. La... Lu.. Lar... Loo.. Aww screw it.. Fred." Muttered Luka irritably. He was thoroughly fed up, all he had planned on was a quiet dinner and he ended up implicated in a murder. "What do we do now that we have.. Fred in the trunk?"
"Take him to the morgue!" Replied Abby, as if Luka was the most stupid person on the planet, thankfully she hadn't finished off the sentence with 'Well DUH!' but it had been very tempting.
"Oh. Well.. They can do that.. It's their car.. Their rug.. Hence.. Their body.." Luka took Abby's hand. "Come.. Show me more of your strange American phrases.. What is a Cun-"
Abby snickered and shoved her hand over his mouth. "Not HERE!" She hissed, laughing. Abby dragged Luka inside while Mark and Elizabeth stared at each other wistfully.
"How come you don't teach me strange American phrases Mark?!" said Elizabeth, woefully.
"Because I'm afraid that even in the afterlife, my mother is going to come after me with a giant bar of soap and wash my mouth out.. That's why! I can't wrap my tongue around 'Cun-' Finished or otherwise.. Do you want your husband to have nightmares of having his mouth washed out with soap? Do you?" Mark looked at her sternly.
Elizabeth shook her head and sighed. "No... I guess not. But it doesn't mean *I* can't say them does it! CUN-" Mark clapped his hand over her mouth.
"STOP THAT! Do you want the neighbours to think we're filthy mouthed heathens?!" Squealed Mark.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Mark. You haven't been in a church since your father's funeral, and you seem to have no problem with sneaking around with dead bodies in the trunk, you just can't stand me saying cu-" Mark's eyes widened and Elizabeth sighed. "Okay.. I won't say it.. Doesn't mean I won't scream it in bed later at 3 am. Just to keep life interesting."
Mark paled. "You wouldn't dare!"
"Try me.."
He sighed and looked towards Lawrence's feet which were sticking out of the trunk. "Help me with this will you.. Help me get Larry's feet in there so we can close it.." Elizabeth gave Larry a good shove and Mark slammed it shut.
"Okay.. Let's get this bastard out of here.. How did phoning your old boyfriends go?!" Mark asked curiously, as he walked to the driver's side and got in.
She cocked an eyebrow and sighed. "What?! Old boyfriends?! Abby's right.. Have you been taking your medications?!"
"YES!! OKAY! YES! Let's get going!"
The gears squealed and grinded noisily as Mark angrily took it out of park and put it into reverse.
"I still think we should bury it in the backyard."
"Mark!"
"What! We could dig Larry a little grave.. Say a few words.. Plant a walnut tree over top.. Or tomato plants.. Ever see that weird movie with Ben Stiller in it?! These people start burying bodies in their back yard and plant tomato plants over top.."
"Mark! I'm not eating death tomatoes!"
"They won't be dead.. Larry will be fertilizer.. Think of your flowers!" Mark smiled and patted her hand as they drove down the street.
"Eww. Mark. The more and more we talk about this.. The more I want a wood chipper!"
His eyes widened and he slammed on the brakes. "WHAT! Okay.. That's it.. No more Farrelly Brothers movies for you!"
"Oh.. Mark.. Don'cha know..." Elizabeth mocked, butchering the Wisconsin accent. "So, I guess that was your accomplice in the, ah, wood chipper?"
Mark ignored her, covering his ears and bonking his head on the steering wheel. "Stop it.. Stop it.. Stop it.. Enough.. No more Fargo for you.. and NO we are NOT seeing Oh Brother Where Art Thou.. I can NOT stand George Clooney.." Each 'stop it', was excentuated by a sharp beep from Mark's bald head striking the wheel. He was getting a fierce headache, but it didn't compare to the headache he had gotten from Elizabeth watching that movie ad-nauseum when it came out on DVD.. She had some sick thing about woodchippers that he didn't, and didn't want to understand.
He stopped banging his head and slowly looked up at her. "NO! We are NOT putting Larry in the woodchipper."
Elizabeth pouted. "Oh. So it's okay that we can bury him in the back yard like common waste, but we can't have a little fun?! Mark!" Elizabeth was sick of Mark. She didn't really think that sticking Lawrence in a woodchipper would be fun, but Mark had been so stuffy lately.. He wouldn't even let her say cuneate.. Of course.. That hadn't been the word on her mind.. But she had a feeling that Mark could sense these things. She wasn't certain what cuneate meant anymore.. It'd been years since her college exams.. It had to be a shape or something as far as she could recollect.. but it seemed she didn't even have to finish her sentences lately for Mark to bristle up and get nervous.
Mark's eyes rounded to the size of large marbles. The sort of marbles, he'd played with as a child and lost early. "FUN! Obliterating somebody in a woodchipper is fun!? Oh boy!"
"Not Fun, Mark.. But a damn sight more interesting than sticking the poor bastard in the morgue, besides wasn't Abby supposed to come with us?!"
"Abby's baby sitting Tony."
"Blast! She is not! She's baby sitting Luka's penis!"
"ELIZABETH!"
"Well.. She is.. and I saw the way you were staring at her. Her.. wearing your robe like that.. Don't think that I didn't see. That dreamy look on your face, like when you think about pudding."
"I did NOT have a dreamy look on my face!" Grumbled Mark as he pulled into the County parking lot.
They sat in the gates as Mark drummed his fingers on the wheel and sighed. "So.. Do you go in and steal a body bag or do we just dump the sucker in the trash bin out back?" He was getting thoroughly sick of this. His friends were back doing unmentionable things on his bed and he was starving. Mark's stomach cursed him aloud and growled.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Mark... I think your stomach just swore at me.. Mark what did you eat today?" Her eyes narrowed and she glared at her husband.
"Nothing.. Fruit... a tuna sandwich on wholewheat.." He replied confidently.
"Mark!"
His world was shattered.. His cover was blown. Mark was in hot water.. Mark was in deep deep crap. "Well.. I.."
"Mark....." Elizabeth licked her lips and pursed them angrily. "If you've been eating that garbage again. You know it's not good for you.. What did you eat!!??? Mark.."
"Two... Foot-long hoagies... and some Kielbasa sausage bake that Haleh brought..." He replied nervously.
Elizabeth's eyebrows went up and she swatted him hard on the arm. "MARK!"
He jumped back in pain and rubbed his arm. "OW!!" Mark laughed nervously, and rubbed his arm. "Ow...." he whined. "I was hungry.."
"My husband is NOT going to have a heartattack at 50... All that red meat.. Christ, Mark.."
Mark snickered and then erupted into gales of laughter. "You think... Maybe.. That's what killed Larry?? Too much red meat!!!!????" Choking on his giggles, he wiped away tears and sighed happily. Mark dodged another swat from Elizabeth and grinned.. "Or maybe he had an overbearing wife!"
She glared at him and clocked him soundly with her purse. "Come on.
We have to get Lawrence out of the trunk."
"I want to go home and watch the Munsters and eat a tv dinner and go to bed.." Mark complained bitterly as he got out of the truck. He was getting thoroughly sick of this.. This was all Elizabeth's fault. That stupid rug. No! It wasn't Elizabeth's fault! It was Larry's for being IN the rug. Yes, that was it. It was Larry's fault for having the rug as his final resting place. Mark sighed. No.. This was all his fault, his little garbage picking sprees. If he hadn't convinced Elizabeth to come along. If he'd gone by himself.... He groaned. If he'd gone by himself, he probably would have seen the rug anyway and gotten it for his wife and they'd be going through this anyway.
"MARK!"
He yawned and sighed, walking to the trunk and helped Elizabeth pull the body out and marched across the parking lot carrying the rug and Larry.
Elizabeth grunted and shifted her weight, getting a better grip on the rug. This was stupid, walking out in the open like this carrying a body like it was the most normal thing on the planet. What they needed was Eddie from transport. He'd know what to do. Either that or a wood chipper. A wood chipper would have come in handy.. But Mark didn't know anything about getting rid of bodies. Neither did she, Elizabeth reasoned to herself, but a woodchipper would have been exciting.
She furrowed her brow and sighed. Perhaps Robert would know.. He was a horrible man. He probably killed people and hid their bodies all the time. People leaving mysteriously like that.. P-places... Phoenix... Philadelphia.. Romano probably had their bodies fertilizing his lawn. "Maybe we should tell Robert, Mark.. He'd know what to do.."
"ROMANO!? No Fucking way!" Screamed Mark.. The words echoing loudly into the late night. Okay.. Maybe he shouldn't have yelled.. Okay... Maybe he shouldn't have swore.. But Romano!? What was Elizabeth thinking??? He was the last person, Mark would tell about ANYTHING, especially finding a dead body in his rug.
"MARK! You swore!" Elizabeth said with delight. Now maybe she could get away with saying cuneate without having to scream the other word at the top of her lungs at three AM.
They were halfway across the parkinglot towards the backdoors of the morgue, when suddenly night became day and the happy couple were blinded by a large spotlight.
"May I ask what you're doing?!" A disembodied voice boomed.
Elizabeth screamed and Mark yelped, dropping his end of the carpet, and wetting his pants(Later on at office parties, Mark would claim this never happened, but Elizabeth swears by it and apparently the SUV never has lost that 'smell')
They grabbed Larry and ran like mad, tripping in potholes, splashing in puddles and making a general mess of themselves.
Elizabeth, Mark and Larry made it to the trunk, as Kurt Jones finally tottered out with his flashlight and nightstick. "Hey you kiddies better not be doing anything illegal out here!" He threatened feebly, shaking a liverspotted, veined fist at the ink black night. Then limping arthritically back to his post, Cook County General's oldest security guard, finished his nap.
With Larry safely stowed in Elizabeth carpet and Elizabeth's carpet safely locked in the trunk, Mark sped out and away. He squeezed his legs together, the skin hot, sticky and itching as the miles crept up on the spedometer.
As it got warmer up front, Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. "You smell that, Mark?"
Mark shook his head, "No.. I don't think so.. No I don't think I do.." He said nervously.
Mark put one hand on the wheel and rested his head in his hand, setting his elbow on the edge of the driver's side window. He sighed heavily and yawned, turning the wheel and driving onto the highway. This isn't how he'd planned to spend his days off, burying dead bodies and spending his nights driving all over hell's half acre. There wasn't any glamour in being a secret agent, he'd surmised. There was no Pussy Galore, no Q.. No gadgets and no fancy suits.. Mark glanced down at his filthy scrubs, caked with grime and what he could only guess was either ketchup or Larry's blood. He hoped it was ketchup.
Elizabeth fiddled with the radio as they drove out into what she had discovered was obviously the middle of nowhere as the stations grew fewer and fewer.. Soon the only thing on the band was static and lots of it. She sighed heavily and looked up. "Mark?! Where in the hell are we?!"