A place to read humorous stories
I don’t expect to find the hotel clerk dead sitting on a chair and stuffed halfway into a closet. Family vacations bring many surprises and many adventures. Let’s do a head count: One tired dad who’s been on the road for eight solid hours, one wife who is pleading for relief from our three kids and their constant farting, one mother-in-law that can not stop correcting my grammar every single second of those eight hours, and one dead hotel clerk named Kevin.
Kevin’s chin rests on his chest, spittle glistens in fluorescent light, and his right arm hangs limply to his side. The chair sits halfway out of a closet in a staff-restricted hallway. The smell here reminds me of a Tom Petty concert I went to in college. But maybe I’m wrong, maybe Kevin is just tired. I take two fast steps and shake him by the shoulder. I get nothing. His name tag jingles. This was not on the itinerary for the first stop of our family vacation. But you know what, I got you, Kevin. I’m a man of subpar grammar and action.