Sprayed Stiff

Chapter One I got on my knees, held my breath, and extended my fingers.It was sleek and firm, but it sprang slightly at my touch. I kept my eyes closed and continued my exploration.Suddenly, the surface gave way. My fingers sank through, diving into a wet, gooey pit."Ugh," I groaned, and squeezed my eyes more tightly shut as I extracted my hand."Gnarly nuns and timid terriers, Reyn. Whatareyou doing?"I really didn't want to look at what was hanging off my fingers, and I really didn't need to open my eyes to see who was standing over me. Instead, I eased to my feet, trusted that my guest would stay out of the way, and did the blind-man's grope to the sink. I cranked the handle up and slid my hand under the stream of water."Ow, damn!" My eyes flew open and took in the kaleidoscope of neon that was my best friend, Trudy, as I danced around the kitchen shaking my seared hand in the air. I'd forgotten that, just minutes before, I'd cranked the water as hot as it could go, which felt like somewhere around eighteen million degrees. That's what I got for being forgetful."I hate to repeat myself," Trudy said as she handed me a dish towel, "but I will anyway. What the hell are you doing, Reyn?""I'm cleaning out my refrigerator.""Dun, dun-dun-dun," Trudy sang out a dirge. "Dun, dun-dun-dun.""Very funny.""From the looks of what was hanging off your fingers a second ago, it's not too funny. What was that, anyway?"I peeked into the half-open hydrator. "Rotten eggplant. If I left it a little longer, maybe it could ooze out of there on its own." I looked a little more closely at the gray-green fuzz near the semblance of a stem."I'm not going to ask why you are cleaning your refrigerator. Obviously, it's needed to be cleaned almost since you bought it. However, I will ask, why are you cleaning it now?""It's one of my if-I-live-through-this resolutions to myself.""Wouldn't those be madeafteryou survived the refrigerator cleaning?"I glared. "I made three resolutions to myself while that maniac was trying to erase me.""That was a long time ago, Reyn. You're just now getting around to it?" Trudy pointed out with irritating accuracy. Why couldn't I have a best friend who thought I was brave and brilliant, who never pointed out my faults and always praised my virtues? Because I'd never buy that load of crap, that's why. Trudy was shaking her head. "What about the other two resolutions?""Well," I began as I replaced the dish towel on its peg, "one of them I can't do yet -- or, hopefully, ever.""Why not?" Trude cocked her hip and put a fist on it. Her rayon minidress looked like something straight out ofThat '70s Show(or, of course, the actual '70s) with its psychedelic wiggly bull's-eye business and the clash of electric green, traffic-cone orange, and spastic yellow. Its hem hit three inches below the crotch of her Victoria's Secret undies (I didn't have to look, she just didn't own anything else). People would be thrown into peals of laughter had I worn anything like this. The same people were paralyzed by awestruck ogling when Trudy wore it. Her legs were that good. Even better now, after a summer out in the sun. The thing is, summer in San Antonio lasts until November, so she'd still be tan for Christmas. Now, me, I never tan. I just get freckles."I can't do it because the resolution is that I will hide all the knives and other sharp, potentially homicidal objects in my house the next time I go poking around in a murdered friend's life."Trudy rolled her eyes. "You're right. What are the odds of that ever happening again? I mean, how many people have friends who are murdered -- and then, of course, even if that did happen again, by some bizarre twist of fate, you've learned your lesson on not messing around with murder investigations because you nearly got killed. Right?"Uh-oh. I really wasn't sorry for what I'd dBradley, Laura is the author of 'Sprayed Stiff ', published 2005 under ISBN 9780743471121 and ISBN 0743471121.