Friday the thirteenth. We used to think it was a day of bad
luck. Some stayed in bed so as not to tempt the fates. My dad's birthday was
the 13th and every 6 years it fell on a Friday. He used to comment that the day
would probably be a double whammy for him. I don't remember any such.
We used to be careful of black cats crossing the road on Friday the thriteenth or broken mirrors or ladders leaning against walls along the sidewalk. Weird how we fall into superstitious nonsense. Oh gees, I just knocked over the salt shaker. Need to toss a bit over my shoulder here. Pardon me for a sec. There you....oooh...pulled a muscle in my back.
I'll get back to this in a minute. This back pain requires some advil.
I'm typing with one finger now. Remember when I went for advil? Well, I was out of it and had to drive to the store to buy some. Got there, got in line with the bottle, pulled out my wallet and had no money. In frustration I got out of line and walked out to my car. As I was getting in my car the cop who stands inside the store to thwart would be robbers came running out of the door waving his gun yelling freeze! I looked behind me to see who he was addressing and at that moment he reached me and slammed me into my car yelling spread 'em.
"What's going on officer?" I asked.
"Shut up and keep still."
He frisked me and pulled the bottle of advil out of my pocket.
"Gees, I'm sorry officer. I didn't realize I'd kept that bottle. I was going home to get the money to pay for it. I thought I'd left it on the counter."
"Tell 'em down town. I'm sending you to the station to explain this one."
"Wait. Can't we settle this now? Surely someone inside knows me and can vouch for me."
Sorry, buddy. You lifted the bottle and you gotta deal with the consequences. The governor has been specific on this matter and we have to uphold the law to the letter this month. Elections you know."
So I was loaded into the back seat of a patrol car--they really do put their hands on the top of your head to push it down so you don't bump it on the roof--and taken to the station. That's where they took off the hand cuffs. The right one had been too tight and left what will probably be a scar for life. I was pushed into a room and told to extend my hands. They inked my fingertips and rolled my prints into the squares labeled for each finger--thumb, index, etc. I was given a rag to wipe the ink off but not before I'd smeared the black stuff on my new pair of pants, now ruined for good.
"Come on, buddy, into this room."
It was a stark and bare room with a naked light bulb hanging from a single electrical cord in the center. Under it was a square table that had seen better days. On one side was a chair into which I was shoved and told to wait there. On the other side was two chairs, I figured for the proverbial good cop bad cop scenario. A small table sat over in one dark corner piled with various indistinguishable things presumably for frightening hardened criminals into quick confessions so the wheels of justice could move along smoothly. Visions of rubber hoses and red piss danced through my mind.
I began to sweat a bit as the time slowly ticked on. There was a clock on the wall behind me. The minute hand jumped one minute each time the second hand swept passed 12. Opposite this wall was a full view mirror which stretched from one side to the other. I saw myself in a sweat soaked shirt and wrinkled brow staring back at me. It seemed as if eyes were on me that I could not see. Just jumpy I thought to myself. Who wouldn't be?
Finally a key rattled in the door and it opened admitting two men in shirt sleeves, ties askew. The first one had a smile on his face that registered mirth. The second one, a smile of cruelty. My shirt took on a heavier load of sweat as they sat across from me still smiling in silence.
"Hello, buddy. How you feeling?" Said mustache face of the mirthless grin.
"Uh, OK, I guess. This is all a mistake and..."
" Shut it! We'll decide all that. Now, whatcha doin' walking outta the store with unpurchased goods, huh? Advil, was it? Thought you had a headache then, huh, pal?"
"Well, you see..."
"What we see is a perp who lifted an item off the shelf and promptly walked out with it. We call them shoplifters. But let's call a spade a spade right now and tell you point blank that that makes you a THIEF! Know what we do to thieves? We lock 'em up and enjoy doing it."
At that moment I seemed to jump forward in a vision--I was standing in a room with multi shower heads pouring out the heated water which sent steam clouds throughout the room. There were several of us, each with a bar of soap washing off the dirt from the "yard" when all of a sudden my soap leapt from my hand and landed on the wet tiled floor. My automatic reaction was to bend over to pick it up.
"Don't bend over in the shower!!' came a shout. And all at once....
"What's the matter with you, fella. You listening to us?" It was the clean-shaven one speaking now.
"Yeah. I'm listening." I shifted in my chair to relieve the pressure on my hemorrhoid.
"You were caught red-handed. Bottle of advil and no receipt of purchase. We got you cold, buddy. Whatcha got to say?'
"It was a mistake. I didn't mean to take it with me. I was going home to get the money to pay for it. I just forgot to put it down. It could happen to anybody."
"You know you look kinda familiar. There's been a lot of Advil lifted lately. You maybe involved in some kinda scam?"
"Don't be ridiculous. What kind of idiot would try to make money off stolen Advil?"
"Oh, I don't know," said mustache as he meandered over to the small table in the dark corner. He picked up a tubular thing in his right hand and began to pound it into the palm of his left hand. Slowly he came into the light of the 50 watt bulb. I noticed his shoe lace was untied at the same time he tripped over it. He slammed his head into the corner of the table and fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
"What did you do to him?" mustacheless cried out. "You're going to do a lot of time. I'll see to it."
He knelt by his partner placing his fingertips at his throat. At the same moment the door burst open and two uniformed officers came in guns drawn and aimed at me still sitting in my chair.
"Is he all right?" one of them asked.
"Yeah. He's got a pulse."
"We saw the whole thing. You're in a lot o' trouble, boy. You'll do real time for trying to kill a police.”
"Wait a minute. I didn't do anything. I've just been sitting here. This man can tell you that. Tell them."
He just looked at me and smiled. "Gottcha now, boy. You're in deep and you won't be out of prison for a long, long time. Hold out your hands."
As he cuffed me I saw that the fingerprinting ink had spread. My skin seemed to have taken on a darker hue than the pale skin of my forebears. I looked up into the mirror on the far wall and saw a black man staring back at me. Astonished I started to cry out...
"Shut up! Get him out of my sight before I hurt him bad!"
The officer shoved me out into the hall and pushed me toward the back where the jail cells awaited criminals.
"I...I....I....What's happening?" I shouted.
Wha... Someone outside just shouted. Whoa...I have to stop falling asleep at this keyboard.
Happy 13th all. Now where did I put that Advil? Is that a police siren outside my window? Did they say give it up the place is surrounded? Is that the front door splintering open? What the...
We used to be careful of black cats crossing the road on Friday the thriteenth or broken mirrors or ladders leaning against walls along the sidewalk. Weird how we fall into superstitious nonsense. Oh gees, I just knocked over the salt shaker. Need to toss a bit over my shoulder here. Pardon me for a sec. There you....oooh...pulled a muscle in my back.
I'll get back to this in a minute. This back pain requires some advil.
I'm typing with one finger now. Remember when I went for advil? Well, I was out of it and had to drive to the store to buy some. Got there, got in line with the bottle, pulled out my wallet and had no money. In frustration I got out of line and walked out to my car. As I was getting in my car the cop who stands inside the store to thwart would be robbers came running out of the door waving his gun yelling freeze! I looked behind me to see who he was addressing and at that moment he reached me and slammed me into my car yelling spread 'em.
"What's going on officer?" I asked.
"Shut up and keep still."
He frisked me and pulled the bottle of advil out of my pocket.
"Gees, I'm sorry officer. I didn't realize I'd kept that bottle. I was going home to get the money to pay for it. I thought I'd left it on the counter."
"Tell 'em down town. I'm sending you to the station to explain this one."
"Wait. Can't we settle this now? Surely someone inside knows me and can vouch for me."
Sorry, buddy. You lifted the bottle and you gotta deal with the consequences. The governor has been specific on this matter and we have to uphold the law to the letter this month. Elections you know."
So I was loaded into the back seat of a patrol car--they really do put their hands on the top of your head to push it down so you don't bump it on the roof--and taken to the station. That's where they took off the hand cuffs. The right one had been too tight and left what will probably be a scar for life. I was pushed into a room and told to extend my hands. They inked my fingertips and rolled my prints into the squares labeled for each finger--thumb, index, etc. I was given a rag to wipe the ink off but not before I'd smeared the black stuff on my new pair of pants, now ruined for good.
"Come on, buddy, into this room."
It was a stark and bare room with a naked light bulb hanging from a single electrical cord in the center. Under it was a square table that had seen better days. On one side was a chair into which I was shoved and told to wait there. On the other side was two chairs, I figured for the proverbial good cop bad cop scenario. A small table sat over in one dark corner piled with various indistinguishable things presumably for frightening hardened criminals into quick confessions so the wheels of justice could move along smoothly. Visions of rubber hoses and red piss danced through my mind.
I began to sweat a bit as the time slowly ticked on. There was a clock on the wall behind me. The minute hand jumped one minute each time the second hand swept passed 12. Opposite this wall was a full view mirror which stretched from one side to the other. I saw myself in a sweat soaked shirt and wrinkled brow staring back at me. It seemed as if eyes were on me that I could not see. Just jumpy I thought to myself. Who wouldn't be?
Finally a key rattled in the door and it opened admitting two men in shirt sleeves, ties askew. The first one had a smile on his face that registered mirth. The second one, a smile of cruelty. My shirt took on a heavier load of sweat as they sat across from me still smiling in silence.
"Hello, buddy. How you feeling?" Said mustache face of the mirthless grin.
"Uh, OK, I guess. This is all a mistake and..."
" Shut it! We'll decide all that. Now, whatcha doin' walking outta the store with unpurchased goods, huh? Advil, was it? Thought you had a headache then, huh, pal?"
"Well, you see..."
"What we see is a perp who lifted an item off the shelf and promptly walked out with it. We call them shoplifters. But let's call a spade a spade right now and tell you point blank that that makes you a THIEF! Know what we do to thieves? We lock 'em up and enjoy doing it."
At that moment I seemed to jump forward in a vision--I was standing in a room with multi shower heads pouring out the heated water which sent steam clouds throughout the room. There were several of us, each with a bar of soap washing off the dirt from the "yard" when all of a sudden my soap leapt from my hand and landed on the wet tiled floor. My automatic reaction was to bend over to pick it up.
"Don't bend over in the shower!!' came a shout. And all at once....
"What's the matter with you, fella. You listening to us?" It was the clean-shaven one speaking now.
"Yeah. I'm listening." I shifted in my chair to relieve the pressure on my hemorrhoid.
"You were caught red-handed. Bottle of advil and no receipt of purchase. We got you cold, buddy. Whatcha got to say?'
"It was a mistake. I didn't mean to take it with me. I was going home to get the money to pay for it. I just forgot to put it down. It could happen to anybody."
"You know you look kinda familiar. There's been a lot of Advil lifted lately. You maybe involved in some kinda scam?"
"Don't be ridiculous. What kind of idiot would try to make money off stolen Advil?"
"Oh, I don't know," said mustache as he meandered over to the small table in the dark corner. He picked up a tubular thing in his right hand and began to pound it into the palm of his left hand. Slowly he came into the light of the 50 watt bulb. I noticed his shoe lace was untied at the same time he tripped over it. He slammed his head into the corner of the table and fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
"What did you do to him?" mustacheless cried out. "You're going to do a lot of time. I'll see to it."
He knelt by his partner placing his fingertips at his throat. At the same moment the door burst open and two uniformed officers came in guns drawn and aimed at me still sitting in my chair.
"Is he all right?" one of them asked.
"Yeah. He's got a pulse."
"We saw the whole thing. You're in a lot o' trouble, boy. You'll do real time for trying to kill a police.”
"Wait a minute. I didn't do anything. I've just been sitting here. This man can tell you that. Tell them."
He just looked at me and smiled. "Gottcha now, boy. You're in deep and you won't be out of prison for a long, long time. Hold out your hands."
As he cuffed me I saw that the fingerprinting ink had spread. My skin seemed to have taken on a darker hue than the pale skin of my forebears. I looked up into the mirror on the far wall and saw a black man staring back at me. Astonished I started to cry out...
"Shut up! Get him out of my sight before I hurt him bad!"
The officer shoved me out into the hall and pushed me toward the back where the jail cells awaited criminals.
"I...I....I....What's happening?" I shouted.
Wha... Someone outside just shouted. Whoa...I have to stop falling asleep at this keyboard.
Happy 13th all. Now where did I put that Advil? Is that a police siren outside my window? Did they say give it up the place is surrounded? Is that the front door splintering open? What the...
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