The Massacre of the Inflatables

Marcia is a crime buff. 300-word flash

The Massacre of the Inflatables

“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Marcia insisted.
“Then what’s that you’re holding behind your back,” her partner Delbert asked firmly.
“Just an old pump I found in the garage.”
Delbert made a gesture with his hand meaning he wanted to have it. Marcia obliged shame faced.

“What have you got against our neighbors?” he asked sharply.
“Nothing, I love our neighbors!”
“So, it’s their lawn décor you hate then, is it?”
“Not per se,” was her answer.
“Then what is it then?”
“I don’t like when they let the inflatable decorations go flat. It seems like they’ve all been murdered!”
“You watch too much true crime and read too many books about crime,” Delbert suggested.
“Well maybe, but the decorations look worse when they’re like that,”
“So, you’ve been going around pumping them up again? A bicycle pump is exhausting!”
“Tell me about it!”

“Did you ever consider just calling the neighbors when their inflatables go flat, to remind them?”
Marcia nodded. “I did once, I won’t tell you what kind of language I got in reply!”
“Really? I’ll get you one of those battery-operated pumps from my hardware store. It will be easier and you’ll sleep better at night, I’m sure.”
“Would you do that? That would be so nice,” Marcia exclaimed, reaching up to give her man a big kiss.
“Don’t say I never do anything for you! I’ll bring it home tonight after I close the store. Until then, you’ll just have to avoid looking at the dead inflatables. See what you’ve got me doing now!” Delbert sighed.

Marcia laughed and hugged him again. She made his lunch, then waved goodbye at the door.
“Maybe I need to watch more comedies, like ‘Only Murders in the Building,” she decided slyly.