Dennis hauled himself out of the hole, stabbed the earth with his shovel and lit a cigarette.

“Why we diggin’ this hole again?” he said peeling off his sweat soaked t-shirt.

“Because T-Bone said so.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“T-Bone says dig a hole. We dig a hole. You don’t ask questions.”

“We?” Dennis said, “I’m the only one doin’ all the work, Marty.”

Marty sat in an Adirondack chair, smoking a cigar. An umbrella posted behind him blocking bird droppings and debris from the trees surrounding them. His cowboy hat tipped over his eyes. Ice tea in hand resting on his bulbous stomach. A hog in heaven.

“I’m supervising.” he said.

“Man, that’s fucked up.”

Dennis continued to smoke, wiping sweat from his head with a rag.

“Ya know Marty. I bet it’s for Wallace.” Dennis spit into the pile of dirt next to the hole.

“You don’t say.”

“Yeah, I heard he was messin’ around with T-Bone’s girl. Heard he had her in a motel room out on dixie highway givin’ it to her doggy-style.”

Dennis mimicked doggy-style. Hands in front of him, palms facing each other. He humped the empty space between them.

“That so?” Marty said sucking on his cigar.

Dennis leaned against his shovel and flicked ash from his cigarette.

“I don’t blame him though. I’d like a taste of that sweet ass myself. She is a fine piece of meat. Yes sir.” He stared into the hole as if daydreaming about that sweet ass. “I mean, that girl has got some tig ol’ bitties. Always comin’ around with that low cut shirt and shorty ass shorts. I bet that girl could suck the chrome off a doorknob.”

“That’s not what I heard.” Marty said and took a long swallow of tea.

“Um, what, what did you hear?”

“Heard it was somebody else. Heard that somebody beat the living dog shit out of her when she refused his advances.”

Marty heaved his girth out of the chair, sat his glass on the ground and lumbered over to Dennis. Dennis looked around nervously. He picked up the shovel and started poking at the ground.

“T-Bone said she’s pretty messed up. Might have to get plastic surgery on her face. She’s got broken ribs, broken arm, tons of bruises. Won’t be out of the hospital for a while.”

“I mean, who would treat the big man’s woman like that?” said Dennis sweating even harder now. “You think Wallace would do that?”  He turned toward the hole, ready to get back to work.

Marty pulled a snub nose .38 from his front pocket, leaned toward Dennis and whispered.

“You.”

“Now, Marty, wait a second.”

Marty touched the back of Dennis’ head with the pistol and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed off the surrounding trees as his lifeless body dropped into the hole.

He reached into his other pocket, pulled out a cellphone and dialed. He said, “It’s done,” then put it back. Marty picked up the shovel, scooped at the mound of dirt and began filling the hole.