This is one of several stories I wrote that was inspired by seeing several stuffed animals that had been dumped up next to a highway divider. My curiosity was sparked, and I wrote the stories to provide an explanation for why they were there.

Name’s Lance Rimshot.  My friends call me Lance.  I work for the Department of Toys and Services.  Its friends call it “DoTaS.”  

It was Wednesday night.  Wednesday’s the night that Mom goes over to Edna’s for cards.  Those ladies like to play late, so I stayed up until she came home, watching rented movies.  You don’t need to know what kind. 

Later I was asleep.  The phone rang and I was awake.  It was three AM on the clock next to the phone.  It was the old kind of clock with the white numbers that click when they flip.  But you don’t need to know that.   

It was the boss.  I did some quick calculations.  At this hour, it couldn’t be an intervention with some girl to explain why Barbie looked so much different from mommy.  Or some pale little hombre who had been spending so much time killing aliens in a game that he had told his father that he wanted to move to a different “mod” so he could get more “frags.”  No, this one was going to be different. 

“Lance,” the boss says.  “We need you on I-84 West between exits 29 and 30, where it slices through Hartford.  Pronto.” 

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