This was done for a challenge. One shot as far as I can see. I don't know if it will even make sense to anyone else. It was just something that I wrote while I was trying to work on something more serious. I suppose I've spent to much time working on cars with guys. I take reviews so feel free...

Nevermind! I probably don't want to Know Anyway

I sighed as I leaned against the wall. I was tired, I had chased Grandma Mazur all around the Funeral parlor trying my level best to keep her from jimmying the casket open. I mean I assume she jimmy's them? I've never caught her with a key. But she certainly goes through those metal nail files.

Ranger was sending me death glares as I escorted her back out of Georgia "Thumbs" Marco viewing room. Yeah go figure, how many guys you know named after a state. Essh. Tank gave grandma a wide berth, as did I noticed Hal and Lester. Hmm, what had she done now?

Morelli strolled in and gave me a kiss no the cheek, "Cupcake." Must be nice not to have to worry about your grandma causing a scene, damn I'd like to just stroll in. No I'd rather just stroll out. I am still not sure how or why I let Ranger talk me into helping guard a corpse what the heck was I thinking.

"Hey Morelli, if you were going to put a hit on them wouldn't you get them when they were alive?"

Morelli shrugged. "Who knows what makes the retired gangsters tick. Shit I'm having enough trouble figuring out why you let ranger talk you into guarding the dead anyway."

"Have you seen what I am reduced to driving?"

"Reduced, crap I thought you had moved up in the world. A Pontiac GTO is nothing to sneeze about."

"It's a '68 smart ass. And I can't find the damn heater. And Ludwing told me it had AC."

Ranger stifled a snort. "Yeah, babe. 4/65."

"See now what the heck is that?"

Morelli coughed in an attempt to kill the laughter about to bubble out.

Morelli threw arm around my neck. "Nevermind."

"What is that the engine size. What block size, or ahm the bore size, how about barrel size. What?" I screeched. Damn I hated when Ranger and Morelli ganged up on me.

"Stroke size then." Shit I should have known something that might suggest sexual in another usage was best left alone, otherwise things were going to heck in a hand basket.

Morelli busted out snickering. He left me and Ranger. Hollering back only to tell me that 4/65 was all four windows open and me doing at least 65.

Ranger actually turned a couple shades red in his laughter.

"Babe." He waited a few beats, trying to collect his composure. "It's not." He snickered "Stroke size. It's strokes.."

And he would probably have finished the lesson on engines, I assume had I not walked away, to see what Tank and Morelli talking about.

"That was sealed to keep the morbidly curious from disturbing him." Tank said. He let his eyes float over the top of Grandma Mazur.

"Yeah." Morelli sighed. "And speaking of which, someone had better get her home before.. Well before something else grim happens."

"Like?" Tank jerked his thumb in the direction of where Grand ma Mazur was pulling her 45 long barrel out of her purse.

"Shit." Morelli muttered.

"Damn." Ranger groaned.

"How the hell does she get that big gun in such a little bitty handbag?" Tank wondered aloud.

'It's a patent leather handbag." Morelli replied.

"Yeah you could pull a fucking Sherman tank out of there if you wanted. Those things are bigger on the inside than they look on the outside." Ranger replied already making his way toward her.

"Damn." Tank, Hal, and Lester mouthed simultaneously.

"Gentleman, this means war." She waved the gun around before aiming at the sealed casket.

"Shit hit the deck, its all down hill from here."

end