Just Thought...

In case anyone was wondering what I was writing these days, here's a sample:

Harvey Kopelson was sitting in the break room at his funereal home. He was reading the paper when he heard a slow, loud trudge up the flight of stairs from the embalming room. The heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway and he sighed right before Everett Gibson entered the room.
“Hey, uh, Mr. Kopelson. How’s it going?” Gibson said, his eyes looking at the wall behind Kopelson, then the clock above, coming to rest on the table in front of the man who signed his paychecks.
“Fine,” Kopelson said.
“I’m going to lunch. Do you, uh, want me to get you anything? Like, maybe a salad, or something, not that you’re uh, fat, but I’ll get you something if you really, uh, want me to. It’s no trouble.”
“I’m fine Gibson. I’m just reading the paper and getting ready to start arrangements with the Collins family.”
“Really? Do you want me to, uh, help?”
Kopelson closed his eyes exhaled loudly.
“No, Gibson, I’m fine. Go to lunch.”
“Because, I’ll help if you, uh, want me to. I have a lot to offer like…um…”
“Just go to lunch, okay.”
“Well, uh, okay. I’ll be back in an hour. Are you sure you don’t want anything?”
“I’m sure. Just go.”
Gibson walked over and shook Kopelson’s hand. The insincere handshake was quick and weak. Gibson’s hand felt like egg salad.
Tom Menke was going on break too. He walked into the room and almost ran into Gibson.
“Hey, uh, Tom. What’s going on?”
Tom was caught off guard. He looked over at Kopelson, who was wiping his hands with a napkin. He left his office late specifically to avoid Gibson.
“I’m good. Just going to lunch. I’ve been going over numbers all day and need some food.”
“Do you want me to, uh, get you something? I’m going to Wendy’s. Do you like Wendy’s?”
“I’m fine. I brought my lunch from home today. See you in an hour.”
“Okay, uh, well I’m going now.”
Gibson extended his clammy hand. Menke took it apprehensively and shook it briefly; a mild wince came to the face Gibson wasn’t looking at.
“So, I’ll, uh, see you guys in an hour.”
“Bye Gibson,” they both said-- a tinge of excitement in their voices. He plodded out of the room and Menke put a can of soup in a bowl, then the microwave. He sat down by his boss.
“Tom, I don’t like that guy,” Kopelson said.
“I know. He creeps me out a little,” Menke said.
“He creeps me out a lot. He looks like Orson Welles on crack.”
Menke smiled, falling into the familiar topic.
“And not the good Orson Welles,” Kopelson continued, “the fat-ass money whore Welles that died endorsing frozen peas.”
Menke laughed.
“He keeps offering to buy me stuff, it’s really irritating. One of these days I’m going to take him up on the offers, I swear,” Kopelson said.
“Did he try the lunch buying line on you too?” Menke asked.
“Yeah, I think it’s a misguided attempt to buy our love.”
“Or our asses,” Menke said.
Both men cracked up.
“You know, Harvey, we should tell him to shower,” Menke said, “He keeps coming into my office and I don’t like it. He came in yesterday and I think he kept asking about my family, but I have no idea exactly what he said because the stench was so bad.”
“He smells like B.O. and failure.”
“Why don’t you fire him?” Menke said.
“I hate to admit this, but he does damn good work. I like how he prepares the bodies; I just wouldn’t let him talk to the families if my business depended on it.”
There was a brief silence between the men. Menke got up and took his food out of the microwave. It had gotten cold. He put it in again and sat back down.
“This one time, it was after I setup the Stone family, I walked into the basement and saw him leaning over a cadaver. I don’t think he was expecting me. He gave me this look. It scared me. He looked like a kid who was making out and had the father walk in. Frightened, but angry. You know?” Menke said.
“Yeah, I know. The sick fuck.”
“Maybe we should go down there every half hour or so. We don’t know what he’s up to,” Menke said.
“No, I’d rather have him fucking corpses than fucking up my head seeing his pasty, white ass ramming some car crash victim,” Kopelson said.
“True.”
The microwave beeped.
Menke went over to the microwave and brought his soup to the table. He began eating.
“Do you ever check to see if he’s fooling around with the cadavers?” Menke said.
Then the door opened and both mouths closed. The same crawling thud entered the house, but was broken up by a stumbling thump. After a few seconds, it continued.
Gibson lumbered into the room.
“Hey, uh, guys. I was gassing up my car and I bought you guys some Snicker’s. Do you like Snicker’s?”
Gibson handed them the candy. Nobody made eye contact. Menke continued to eat his soup, Kopelson picked up his paper.