I've got to tell you, the last thing I expected to see when I opened my coat closet was a dead hobo. You know what they say- expect the unexpected. This one, unfortunately, caught me totally off guard.

"Hello, mortuary?" I said into the phone. "Yeah, I've got a dead guy in my closet." "He's lying perfectly still. What else WOULD he be doing, the Charleston!?" "No, I didn't put him in there." "No, I've no clue who he is. He looks homeless. You'd really think they would have the common decency not to break into someone's house and die in their coat closet!" "Just, please, pick him up as quickly as possible." "Tomarrow!? But he's already starting to stink up the place! I think there's half a submarine sandwich rotting in his pocket!" "Fine, fine, I'll wait, but I am NOT paying for anything." "Yeah yeah, you're telling me to have a nice day. You're not the one with a dead stranger in your closet. Blow it out your ass." I slammed down the phone.

The stench was making its way across the apartment- I opened a window, despite the fact that it was near freezing outside. Just as I was searching my drawers for an air freshener, there was a knock at my door. Holding my nose, I hurried over to the door and opened it up.

On the other side stood Paul, with a six pack in his hands. "Hey man. God, it smells like dead raccoons and farts in here. That your new cologne?"

"No, my new cologne doesn't have the farts. The smell is coming from the closet."

"Dude, if you're coming out-"

"Not a metaphorical closet! There's a dead guy in my coat closet!"

"And by dead guy in your coat closet, you mean. . .?"

"I mean there is literally a corpse in my coat closet!"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. No clue who it is."

Throwing down his beer, Paul sped to the closet and flung the door open. "Dude! Sick!"

"Tell me about it."

"You sure he's dead?"

"Yeah, I took a pulse."

"Ew, you touched it!?"

"What else was I gonna do!?"

"Poke it with a stick, man!"

"That's your answer for everything."

"Can I?"

"Knock yourself out."

Paul leaned over the cadaver and grabbed an umbrella. A grin creeping over his face, he thrust the end of it into the corpse's rib cage.

"Happy?" I asked cryptically.

"Hell yeah! This is like my lifelong dream!"

"A life well spent."

After a few more moments of pointless poking, Paul returned the umbrella to its rightful place and shut the closet door.

"So," I grabbed one of his beers and popped it open, "What game we got tonight?"

"It's gonna get called."

"What? Why?"

"Cuz of the rain. You're gonna wanna shut that window."

"Dammit!" I slammed the window shut, the wet carpet beside it squishing under my feet. "It's really gonna smell in here now."

"What, you have beans again?"

"No! The dead body in my closet!"

"Right. That."

"Or maybe a combination of the two."

We both plopped down on my couch, beers in hand. I switched on the TV, and found the game had indeed been called because of rain.

"So what're we gonna watch?"

Paul flipped through my copy of TV Guide. "This thing on Lifetime looks pretty good."

"Lifetime? Entertainment for women?"

"What, it's not like anyone's ever gonna know."

"Good point. Let's give it a shot."

A few minutes later, we were absorbed in some corageous story or another. That's when another knock resounded. Snapping out of my trance, I quickly grabbed the remote and flipped the channel.

"Come on in!" I called.

The door opened, and in stepped Lyle, drops of rain falling from his long overcoat. "Are you guys watching a documentary on baboon mating?"

". . . yes."

"I've already seen this one." Lyle shed his coat and opened the closet door to hang it. He froze. "What the hell is that!?"

"Dead hobo."

"What's he doin' in your closet man!?"

"Lying perfectly still. He really doesn't bother me too much, so I let him stay."

"There has GOT to be some kinda law against that."

"Probably. Want some nachos?"

"Do I!?"