. . .Parked my truck in my garage, ok?
I'm not saying my garage is the safest place in
the world or anything. I'm just saying it's mine. My property. OK?
Do you usually leave things in your garage?
What do you mean, things?
Look, I went back for it. I went back for it fifteen
minutes later. And it was gone. Fifteen minutes. Max.
Max. In my own truck in my own garage.
You went back for it.
I did. Right then.
So you knew you shouldn't of left it there.
Maybe I shouldn't of.
Maybe? Why'd you go back?
No, not OK What you did, you placed a departmental
firearm in the hands of a criminal, OK? You as good as put it there yourself.
Someone stole the goddamn gun.
Yeah, some bad person. This reprimand goes in
your fucken file. So where were you for those fifteen minutes?
Where was I?
Don't repeat the question; answer it.
Talking to a neighbor.
Your nextdoor neighbor?
You're gonna have to state her name for the record.
. . .I'm just telling you. Then what? You come back fifteen minutes later your
piece is gone. What else?
Your belt. Your whole belt?
Cuffs. . . .
My friend, welcome to the twilight of your career.
. . .
the kid who steals the gun sells the gun, and the buyer is going to use it in
the commission of a crime, but fate intervenes in the form of his girlfriend,
(the cuffs could be fun) with whom the buyer proceeds to have a falling out.
They are discussing the matter when he puts the gun to his head. She tries to
talk him out of it. . . .
Billy? Billy, please don't, Billy, please!
But it doesn't do any good. He wants Death to
release him from his pain. Right away. She is damn lucky she doesn't get killed
herself. She's grazed by the bullet and splattered with his brains. Everything
he ever knew.
Now it's my problem? Come on. It aint like the
cop who beat the sucker to death while he was handcuffed. Now that was bad.
You had to take that cop's badge. Had to. He had administered him some beating.
It's a good beating when: crushed his throat,
broke six ribs, tore his heart, and, incidentally, hemorrhaged his testicles,
aint that nice? This is officially known as Excessive Force, meaning you probably
could of killed him with a lot less effort.
Bottom Line? Chief says: No one can state with
any degree of certainty that this death would not have occurred anyway if the
gun had not been stolen.
it's on my head.
But what about this? You want a distraction? What
had happened that day, the day my piece was stolen? You don't have to go looking
for trouble. It turns up in the emergency room along with the rest of the nation's
uninsured and it's hard for the doctors to ignore it, to say anything other
than what they see, which is a little baby's twat torn asunder. How did this
come to pass?
I question the mama, the family, the acquaintances
who had been with the infant between Wednesday and Friday when they "believe"
the incident took place during a (continuous) celebration of new life, except
for the vile motherfucker had to diddle the poor baby girl. Raped her. At one
month of age.
Excuse me? Somebody rips your baby's pussy apart
with his manly prick and depending on how stupid you are it takes you how many
days to figure it out?
Two or three. Many people, you see, have congregated
at the house over the last weeks,celebrating, some whiskey, some beer and wine,
smoke a little dope,crack's cheap, have a good time. Somebody had too good a
time. Ooh, it's so tight. Yeah. It's sexual battery, but the victim can't identify
the perpetrator. Instead she is having re-constructive surgery to try to put
her pussy back together.
that was just the first thing. Then there's this joker:
"I called my woman and asked her to come over
to the funeral home about 11:30 on Friday night. And the second she stepped
inside I started in on her with my fists. You ask me if I believe in beating
a woman and all I can tell you is: she asked for it. Maybe I got carried away.
Choking her with my belt was not strictly necessary, nor was it necessary to
pour the embalming fluid on her ass. But you don't know what she done to me.
Can't you see? Are you blind? The woman obviously hurt me to my soul to make
me lose my mind like that. The hurt she put on me was spiritual, and all I did
to her was physical. I could tell I was not getting to her soul but only to
Yes, sir. Step in the car, please, sir.
me a drink.
Sure, have a drink.
Look, I busted my ass to get here .. . .
You didn't bust your ass.
me. I did. I busted my ass to get here by five o'clock. You said Be Here by
Five O'clock, so I busted my ass. . . .
You see, it all turns around on you. Don't you
see that? You see what I'm doing?
You're taking your clothes off.
That's right. Drink
your drink. The better to fuck you.
Is that right?
I think so. Or
are you going to fuck me? What's the proper syntax here? Women can fuck men,
They most certainly can.
I mean just because you do the penetrating, just
because you come in me, that doesn't mean I don't fuck you just as much as you
fuck me. Let's be partners in this, shall we? What if, what if I got on top?
I might like that.
Got right up on
top of you. Sat there.
That might be nice.
To me, that would
be me fucking you.
So it would.
What's the matter?
It's just . . .