Short story - My Other Car is a Ford

From WritersDigest.com: While driving to pick up lunch, you accidentally bump into the car in front of you—a light fender bender—that pops open the other car’s trunk. When you get out to assess the damage, you notice that the driver of the other car is none other than your favorite actor. More important, you notice a dead body in the trunk. Who is the actor and what elaborate excuse does he give you to explain the dead body in his trunk? (500 words or fewer).

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It was a rainy day - no, really; and like every time we have bad weather, the traffic was horrendous. There's no avoiding it - I was going to be late for work again. My stomach growled. I had skipped breakfast so I could get to the office early, but the traffic was going to wreck that plan. Skipped breakfast, and didn't make my lunch. This is looking like the beginning of a bad day.

Since I was going to be late anyway, I decided to get off the highway, pick up some grub to appease my stomach.

The line up at the drive-through was moving slowly also. My mind must have wandered off because next thing I know, I heard a loud crash and the whole car jolted. I first thought the guy behind me had rear-ended me, but then realized it was I who had rear-ended the guy in front of me. Oh, crap.

I got out of my car to check out the damage and the driver of the car I hit got out as well. A few curses come to mind, a few curses to throw at him, but I hold my tongue. I have learned, many times over, the wisdom of not hurling the first words that come to me in a situation like this. The consequences have never made up for the momentary satisfaction that it brings.

It was bad. The bumpers were - well, to say bumped is an understatement. They should be called smashers, or collapsers, or something like that. The lid of my victim's trunk had popped open with the impact, and a bad smell came from within. Like the smell of rotting meat. A couple thousand dollars worth of damage. Oh crap, oh crap.

"Okay, look, the damage is not too bad, there's no need to get the police or the insurance companies involved," said the other driver.

His voice sounded familiar. Hey wait a minute - this is Harrison Ford! Like, no way, man!

His eyes darted to the lid of his trunk quickly then darted back to me. He looked, excuse the pun, frantic. "Yeah," he said. He sounded like he was trying to think of something to say. "Look, son…" He pushed down on the lid of his trunk. "I need to get this meat to the banquet hall before it thaws out." He took out his wallet, fumbled with it, and handed me, get this – a one thousand dollar bill. "This should cover the damage to your car, right? Just take this, I'll pretend none of this has happened."

I was flabbergasted as I reached out and took the bill. The situation seemed so unreal. Then it hit me, what was going on here. I handed the bill back to him.

"Would you autograph this for me, Mr. Ford?"