The Hitchhiker's Dilemma

He was walking along a lonely stretch of highway when the truck pulled over. His thumb had won him another ride. The passenger side window was down and the door was unlocked. He approached the truck and scrutinized the driver.

“Want a ride?”

He nodded yes and got in.

“Thanks for the lift. I was beginning to think nobody would pick me up.”

“No problem,” the man answered, “where ya goin.”

“Nowhere in particular,” he answered.

The man nodded and pulled back onto the highway. They drove in silence for a while. The whole time he was thinking to himself.

“Do I do it? He doesn’t look like it would be a problem. What’s one more,” he thought, “I’ve killed before and I’m sure I’ll kill again.”

In his backpack was his knife. It would be easy to grab when he needed it. He could ditch the body and get away easily. Down the road a was he could get rid of the truck. He decided then that he was going to do it. It excited him. He couldn’t help it. The demon inside him controlled him. Sizing the man up, he boldly asked.

“Don’t you ever get scared picking up hitchhikers? There are lots of crazies on the road. I hear most of them are mentally impaired.”

The driver glanced at him, nodded, and drove on.

Taking a chance, he spoke.

“Have you ever considered I might be a serial killer? I could take your miserable life. It means nothing to me.”

A demonic laugh erupted from the driver’s mouth, and he knew he was in trouble.

The man grinned and said, “What are the odds of two serial killers in a truck?”

May 20, 2021

Photo courtesy of Pixabay