Steven Porter writes

Grave Robber

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