The shed in the back yard was the very last remotely possible hiding place. I went down the hall bathed in red light of the sunset. A few minutes later I was standing in the shed under the glare of the electric light bulb, watching the lid rise on a crate that should have been empty.
A pudgy hand, followed by a large, rounded arm appeared in the gap and pushed the lid up. The rest of the man followed it, raising the lid until it rested against the wall. He sat up, still coughing, as I watched, frozen in shock.
For more surprises and fun in six-sentence doses, check out the many other writers at Six Sentence Sunday