Great News

I was at the cardboard baler when Frank drove up on the Reach.

"Great news," he said.

"What's that?"

"The weightlifter is dead."

I stopped wrapping wire around the cube of compacted cardboard I had just expelled from the baler. I remembered this weightlifter Frank vowed to kill by crushing his head from either temple with a pair of dumbells. Frank had hoped to catch him while he was on the bench press. Frank had also said he would bite off this weightlifter's cheek or his nose so that he would always remember him.

"You mean the weightlifter you thought your wife was seeing?"

"Yes," said Frank, grinning broadly.

"How did he die, Frank?"

"Does it matter?" Frank laughed. "He's dead. The weightlifter is dead."

Frank laughed again and drove off. The great news had made him supremely happy.