I hear shoveling outside. I'm too drunk to lift my
head from the pillow, but the digging is growing louder.
I trudge across my room and peek through the blinds.
I see a pot-bellied, gray-haired man driving
a shovel into the earth with a lantern overhead,
hanging off a crooked tree branch.
The man plunges into the hole, feet first; a
loud thud echoes (I assume he hit the casket).
Several minutes later he resurfaces holding several
rings gleaming under the lantern and a pearl necklace.
I continue to watch him inspect his
spoils while I sip a half-empty, warm beer.
I turn back to go to bed, thinking, "I should
apply for his job. I might make my rent on time."
-- Tom Huck