Write a story with two buddies, Dean and Jerry. It can be any genre you want, it can go any direction you want. But Dean has to be the straight, suave guy and Jerry the bungling buddy.
Word Count: 1000 words
Deadline: Thursday, June 23th, 2011, 6:30 pm EST
THE BEST LAID PLANS
Veronica Marie Lewis-Shaw
Mr. Harry Winston probably thought that he was being clever, sending shipments of loose diamonds through FedEx, instead of the customary… and very expensive… courier service. Unfortunately, Mr. Harry Winston had not counted on two things…
One… that somebody might “get to” the pert, young blonde in Purchasing and Procurements, and find out his little plan.
As Mr. Harry Winston was soon to find out; life can be a cruel teacher.
Oh… and the other thing…
Mr. Dean Martin could charm the fur off a mink.
The full moon slid behind the clouds; shrouding the east side of the building in darkness, save for a small light over a side door. The two men climbed out of the nondescript sedan, stolen a few hours earlier from the long-term parking at Lambert-St Louis International Airport. Dean, without appearing to, quickly scanned the area.
The men quietly approached the small pass-gate set in the twelve-foot high chain link fence surrounding the FedEx warehouse. Dean pulled the pick set from his jacket pocket and set to work on the padlock. Jerry stood beside him… flashlight jiggling in his hands.
(whispering) “Come on, Jerry… hold the light still.”
(loud whisper) “I gotta go pee, Dean!”
“Just a minute, Jer… I almost have it.”
A few seconds later… the last tumbler clicked into place…
(very loud) “Dean! I gotta pee! NOW!”
“Shhh…quiet… you’re gonna bring…”
Suddenly… the sound of metallic jingling and running feet… paws, actually… broke the quiet of the still night. A moment later…two sleek, black Dobermans appeared on the other side of the security fence… growling menacingly.
“Great! Now, see what you’ve done?”
“I’m sorry, Dean. But, I gotta pee… real bad!”
“Okay, okay… give me the meat, Jerry.”
Jerry handed Dean the backpack with the doctored beef in it. Dean slipped the chain from the padlock and stood back from the fence… the dogs growling the whole time.
“Okay, Jerry… as soon as I throw the backpack over the fence, we run for that door… got it?”
(whining) “But… but… the mean doggies, Dean… I’m sca…”
“Its okay, little buddy… there’s nothing to be scared of. The sleeping powder in the meat is gonna put those “mean doggies” to sleep… just like that!” Dean snapped his fingers. He took the backpack in hand and rubbed it up against the fence, so the dogs would get a good scent of the meat.
“But, Dean… I…”
Dean threw the backpack over the fence… a long, high arc… the pack landing a hundred feet away, between two parked FedEx vans. The Dobermans took off in hot pursuit.
Dean grabbed Jerry’s arm… “Come on… let’s go!” The two ran full tilt for the side door, with Jerry looking back over his shoulder as they ran.
Pausing at the door, Dean fished in his jacket pockets. Jerry looked out nervously across the lot. A moment later, Dean tapped him on the shoulder, beckoning Jerry through the open door.
“Hey… how’d you do that?”
Dean held up a purple and green keycard and adjusted his silk necktie, a satisfied expression on his face.
“A little gift from a lady friend.” Dean replied, with a slow wink.
“A little gift…” wasn’t quite the truth. Dean had had to “wine and dine” the homely-looking warehouse supervisor for a week, before she invited him back to her condo, for “coffee”. To Dean’s pleasant surprise, what Maggie may have lacked in looks, she more than made up for between the sheets. Dean had been with Hollywood actresses and New York models that paled in comparison to Maggie, when it came to “boudoir skills”.
Slipping quietly out of the condo early the next morning, Dean “borrowed” Maggie’s security keycard, hoping that she wouldn’t miss it until Monday, by which time; he planned for him and Jerry to be 1500 miles away.
After finding a restroom for Jerry, who was now doing a serious “potty dance”, the two went in search of the section for the Los Angeles transfer parcels. Twenty minutes later, Dean located the package they had come for.
The two men then headed back the way they had come in, planning to just slip out quietly into the night and make their get-away.
Unfortunately, the Dobermans had other ideas. Looking out the door-window to make sure the street and sidewalk were empty, Dean spotted the two dogs… standing like sentries, twenty feet from the door. Turning to Jerry…
“Jerry… why aren’t the dogs asleep?”
“Maybe chocolate takes longer?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I couldn’t find the sleeping stuff like you said, so I put some chocolate in the meat. Chocolate makes me sleepy, so….”
“Chocolate? We have chocolate?”
“Yeah… in the medicine cupboard. Dean, why is…”
“Oh no!” Dean covered his eyes, shaking his head… muttering… he looked through his fingers…
“Jerry… pal… that was laxative!”
The two looked out the window. The dogs stared back. Dean looked at his watch.
Time seemed to drag out… humans and dogs watching another. And then, the dogs started to whine… looking at Dean and Jerry… then over to the far corner of the lot… back to the men… whining… back to the lot…
As if on cue, the dogs suddenly bolted! Dean looked at Jerry… and smiled.
“It’s working! Let’s get out of here!”
Some time later, after switching the stolen car for their own, Dean was exiting the “44” for home, when he spotted a white patrol car of the St. Louis Police Department in the rear-view mirror, its “red and blues” flashing. He slowed the Caddy and steered it to the curb. Turning to Jerry…
“Okay, little buddy… let me do the talk…what is that?”
Jerry held up the small black disc with flashing red and white lights, for Dean to see.
“This? I found it in the bag with all those diamonds. Isn’t it neato, Dean?” Big toothy grin.
As Dean looked closer… he read the words on the disc… “Anti-theft GPS”.