Urns
A habitual bargain hunter proudly brings home a $500 SUV from an auction, a surprising "great deal." However, his wife discovers two funeral urns filled with ashes in the vehicle's trunk.
“Wow, Gina. You won’t believe the great deal I got on this car!” Anson Gross told his wife.
To say Gina Gross was unimpressed with this amazing revelation would be an understatement. She and Anson had been married for almost two decades, and if she had a dollar for every time Anson came home with an automotive “great deal,” she might not be rich, but she’d at least have a few bucks instead of the thousands her husband had lost over the years, buying pieces of junk that were “great deals.” She swore it was an illness or obsession with Anson, like his quest for the four-wheel Holy Grail.
Every time it happened, Anson would come home smiling from ear to ear, acting like he had just won the Lottery, explaining how he had just gotten one “fantastic deal” or another on a used vehicle. At first glance the car or truck usually did look like a good deal until the other shoe dropped, and Anson would say something like, “It only needs a new transmission,” or “It only needs breaks, rotors, and tires.” With Anson’s amazing deals, there was always an “It only needs” of one sort or another. You could be guaranteed that whatever that need happened to be, it would end up costing much more than the original “great deal.”
The worst part of the process was that Anson had absolutely no mechanical ability whatsoever. Despite his garage full of tools, he was worse than useless when it came to “fixing up” any car. That meant most of the time, Anson had to hire someone else to do the work. On those few occasions when he tried to do the job himself, he usually screwed up royally and had to pay someone to undo what he had done, then pay them again to do the actual initial repair. As far as Gina was concerned, his “great deals” dug a gaping pit in their driveway, where Anson threw what little extra money they managed to save.
Gina braced herself for Anson’s latest “It only needs …” but the words never came. She asked, “OK, Anson. How about you tell me all about this great deal. More importantly, tell me what else the piece of junk will need to make it road-worthy and what it’s going to cost us.”
“That’s the best part, Gina. It doesn’t need anything else. It’s good to go. Not only that, but it’s an SUV. I knew how much you wanted an SUV. I got this one at the car auction for a song.”
“How could you have gotten it for a song, Anson, when you can’t carry a tune in a bucket?”
“Haha. Very funny. Come outside and take a look, and be amazed at what $500 has bought us.”
“When the heck did you get $500? Never mind. I don’t think I want to know,” she said, knowing in Anson’s case, ignorance was always blissful. Instead, she followed her husband outside and saw his latest purchase sitting in the dirt driveway in front of their single-wide mobile home.
“She’s a beauty, ain’t she, Gina?” Anson said, pointing at the surprisingly pristine-looking 2001 Toyota 4-Runner.
Gina found herself somewhat speechless. If what Anson said was true and this baby really didn’t need anything else, he may have finally gotten the deal he had been trying to get for decades. She had been researching the cost of used SUVs for some time; it had been more of a fantasy than research, as Gina knew they could never afford the $8,000 – $20,000 price tag for such a vehicle. Yet somehow, Anson had managed to get this beauty for only $500.
“What’s the catch, Anson? There has to be a catch. There’s always a catch. You don’t get a vehicle this nice for $500. It just doesn’t happen.”
“No catch, Babe. I got this at Fred’s Abandoned Car Auction over in Simpson. It had been found abandoned on a roadside with no papers or identification of any kind. Fred got it from the police impound and drove it to the lot. He briefly checked it out, took care of making the necessary paperwork for it, and slapped a price tag of $800 on it.”
“But you said you got it for $500,” Gina questioned.
“I did, Gina Babe. Never doubt my negotiation skills.”
After more than two decades, not only did she doubt his negotiation skills, but she also sometimes doubted her own sanity for putting up with his nonsense for so long.
“So how do we know this SUV wasn’t used in some kind of robbery or murder or God knows what else?” she asked.
“Well, I suppose we don’t. But it already was checked out by the cops as well as Fred’s Auction folks, so I suppose that’s good enough for me.”
“Of course, it’s good enough for you, Anson. You never ask the important questions. You always take everyone at their word. That’s why we always end up getting screwed in all of your “great deals.” Well, I suppose we should check this gem out for ourselves.”
The pair walked around the SUV, opening all the doors and checking the condition of the interior. Gina was shocked at how well-maintained and clean the vehicle was.
“I can take you for a spin, and you can see how well it runs. I’m telling you, Gina, this was the find of the century.”
“In a bit, Anson. I want to check out the back first.”
Gina lifted the hatch and was amazed at how clean and unworn the carpeted interior of the back was. She saw there was a wooden crate sitting in the rear storage area.
“What’s with the wooden crate, Anson? Did they give you some spare parts or something?”
“What wooden crate? I didn’t notice that when I bought the car.”
“Of course you didn’t. That would have involved actually looking closely at the thing.”
“No need to get so snippy, Gina. I think you just can’t believe I got such a good deal.”
“You are absolutely correct about that, Anson. Your reputation precedes you. Let’s see what little treasure awaits us in this box of mystery.” Gina pulled the box forward and lifted the lid. She stepped back, gasped, and dropped the lid on the ground.
“What is it, Gina?”
She stammered, “I … I’m not sure. It looks like Urns.”
“Urns?”
“Yeah. Urns. Funeral urns. Two of them. The kinds of things you put dead people’s ashes in after you cremate them.”
“What the Hell are funeral urns doing in the back of our SUV?”
“Good question, Anson. What are funeral urns doing in the back of our SUV … that you bought and supposedly checked out, and which was such an amazing deal?”
“Hold on now, Gina. You can’t go blaming me for this. It was obviously some slight oversight on the part of Fred’s Auction. I had nothing to do with it. It’s not my fault.”
“Of course, it’s not your fault. It’s never your fault. It wasn’t your fault when you bought that car with the dead skunk in the trunk, either, was it? That dead skunk made the car unfit for human habitation. That was another great deal, as I recall. Now we have dead people in the back of our SUV.”
“Wait a minute, Gina. They ain’t exactly dead people. They are dead people’s ashes. That is, assuming the urns are actually full. Check to see if they are full.”
“What? I’m not checking for any such thing. First, you know how I hate anything to do with death, dead people, or dead things in general. Secondly, you bought this death mobile, this hearse, you come over here and check it out your own damn self. I don’t want no part of this disgusting business.”
“Fine, fine, fine. Let me look at these.” Anson lifted the lid on the first urn and saw it was full of ashes. He didn’t bother with the second urn; he just lifted it to see if it had any significant weight. “Yep. They are both filled with ashes.”
“That’s just disgusting! Jeezus, Anson. I feel like I wanna puke. What are we supposed to do with dead people’s ashes? We don’t even know who they are. Not that it matters. They’re freaking dead, Anson.”
“Well, let me see here. There’s probably some sort of tag or identifier on these urns.” Anson lifted one of the urns from the box and turned it around until he saw an inscription on the side. “This one says ‘Mabel T. Zeller, loving wife, mother. Brutally cut down in the prime of life.'”
“Oh my God, Anson. That’s a disturbing thing to write on someone’s final resting place, even if it is just an urn.”
“It sure is, yet also interesting. Let me check the other one. It says, “Joseph B. Zeller. May his soul rot in Hell for eternity.”
For a moment, both Gina and Anson were silent. Then Gina shook her head and shouted, “I knew it! There’s always a catch with you, Anson. If it isn’t a car that needs to be overhauled from top to bottom, it’s a good car with dead people’s ashes inside.”
“Now, hold on, Gina. This ain’t a big deal. We’ll just take these urns and dump the ashes somewhere, then we can throw the urns in the trash, and no one will ever be the wiser.”
“I’ll be the wiser, Anson. I’ll know that this stupid piece of crap SUV held the ashes of those people, and one of them is probably a murderer who killed the other. That means this car is probably haunted. How am I supposed to ride around town in a haunted SUV?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. There ain’t no such thing as ghosts or haunted cars. Look at this logically, Gina. We got a great SUV dirt cheap.”
“Bad choice of words, Anson.”
“Oops, sorry. Well, we got a great vehicle, and as soon as we dump these stupid urns and their contents, we can forget they were ever there.”
“There’s no ‘we’ in this, husband. I can’t forget, and I won’t forget. You made this mess, and you’re going to have to clean it up. And after you get rid of those urns, you can get rid of that SUV.”
“What? That’s a great car. I’ll never find another one like it for that price.”
“I don’t care, Anson. I want nothin’ more to do with that. I’ve said my piece, and that’s final.”
“Fine. It’s too late to do anything about it today. I’ll take care of it first thing tomorrow.”
“You bet you will.”
The couple walked into their house, leaving the car with its contents in the driveway. Anson was furious about having to get rid of the best deal he ever made but knew he had no choice. Gina would never relent and would make his life a living Hell until he did what she said. As he lay in his bed in the dark with his eyes closed, trying to fall asleep, he kept reviewing the past few hours, wondering how everything had gone so wrong. Those urns were an unfortunate discovery. He wished he had looked over the car more carefully. Had he found the urns earlier, Gina would have never known a thing about them, and none of this would have happened. But now it was too late.
“It’s not really too late,” a voice said inside his head.
“What? Who said that?” Anson thought.
“I did, Anson. It’s me, Joe Zeller.”
Anson had to think for a moment, “Joe Zeller? I don’t know anybody named Joe Zeller …” Then he recognized the name. Joseph Zeller was the name on one of the urns, the inscription that also suggested Joseph’s soul should rot in Hell for eternity.
“Ah, so I see you recognize me.”
“Hold your horses here for a minute. This just don’t seem possible. I’m lying in my bed, not moving my lips but having some sort of conversation with some dead guy whose ashes are sitting in a car in my driveway. I must have nodded off and am dreaming.”
“No, I assure you, Anson, you are not dreaming.”
“But how can …?”
“Don’t waste your time worrying about such trivial matters, Anson. The important thing is that you needed my help, and here I am.”
“Help? I don’t need anybody’s help, let alone from some dead ashes guy!”
“Actually, you did need my help. You love the new vehicle you bought; it was a fantastic deal. It was the kind of deal you dreamed about all your life.”
“Yes, it was. But because of your stupid ashes and your wife’s, Gina is making me get rid of my great deal.”
“I feel your pain, Anson. Sometimes, wives don’t understand and need to be taught a lesson, like I taught mine. That’s why I’m here to help you. As I’m sure you realized, I have an outstanding disciplinary track record.”
“Help me? What are you talking about? I’m pretty sure you murdered your wife. You must have been insane.”
“Well, one man’s discipline is another man’s insanity, I suppose. Po-tay-to, Po-tah-to, as I like to say.”
“Potato? Why the Hell are you talking about potatoes? More importantly, why the Hell am I dreaming about talking to a pile of ashes?”
“As I told you, Anson, you are not dreaming. You needed my help, and I came to you the only way I could. I came into your mind, and together we solved your problem.”
“Solved my problem? What are you talking about? I didn’t have any problem.” But there was no reply. The strange voice was gone.
Anson opened his eyes to find himself staring up at the barely visible ceiling in his dark bedroom. His body was coated in a film of cold sweat, and the smell of his own stench was nauseating. He also smelled a moist, coppery scent that caused every nerve ending in his body to be immediately on high alert. Anson reached over and turned on the bed lamp on a nearby end table. At first, he had trouble turning the stem on the rotary lamp switch, as his fingers felt wet and sticky. When the light finally came on, Anson saw a bloody knife lying on the end table, and his hands were dripping with blood. He wanted to scream with terror, but his voice caught in his throat.
He turned quickly and saw his wife, his beloved Gina, lying next to him, looking less like a woman than a bloody, butchered slab of meat. That was when he realized what he had done, or more precisely, what Joseph Zeller had made him do. His wife was gone, murdered by his own hand, but he hadn’t really done it. They may have argued over the years, but he would never have considered killing her.
“Joseph Zeller? Where are you? How could you have made me do something so unthinkable?” Anson thought, but there was no reply. He was trembling and weeping.
Anson was overwrought with grief at what he had done, also realizing there would be no way he would ever be able to convince anyone that a ghost of some dead murderer had entered his body, taken control, and done this horrible deed. He would spend the rest of his life in jail or in some insane asylum, and neither option was a good one. Plus, he knew he could never live with the guilt of killing Gina, even if he believed it was not directly his fault. As he lifted the knife slowly up to his throat, Anson did the only thing he still had the wherewithal to do. Through the searing pain and warm flowing of his precious lifeblood down his neck, soaking his shirt and joining Gina’s blood on their bed sheet, Anson felt satisfied that he had done what had to be done to atone for his sins. He neither knew nor cared what would become of the urns or his car. Instead, he felt a numbing relief as the room around him slowly darkened to a total, all-encompassing blackness.
