Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Lonely
No update on Discovering Ashes just yet. Really, I'm just typing this out to maybe make me feel better. Truth is, I'm depressed at the moment. I've been single since 05 with an on-again-off-again thing now and then. But it's not the same. I miss the companionship more than anything. I just wish I could find me a girl sooner rather than later. It's just so.... boring to go through life single. I don't care what anyone says. I'm not even looking for a gal who only wants to sleep with me, I want an honest to God relationship with someone. Heh... who'm I kidding? I'll probably go through all of college having dated all of zilch girls, made five friends, and not gotten a damn thing published.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Discovering Ashes (part 5)
The drive to the call went faster than I expected – helps that there wasn't any traffic. Winter kinda does that sometimes. People hate getting out on icy roads and all, y'know? Dex stayed quiet, which was weird for him. Normally he was always talking about some city down south that he wanted to retire to, or how much of a jaggoff the mayor is, or some bullshit like that. It was nice to hear him shut up for a change, but that whole talk we had about him being a cigar or something kept running through my mind.
"Alright," I said, turning the wheel to the left. Through the windshield I could see the woman who'd made the call. Mrs. Winnefrod was a nice old bat, but crazier than Chuck Manson sometimes. She always wore this... nightgown thing. I dunno what the hell it was, but it was always some shade of blue whenever we showed up. I think the woman bathed in it, for chrissakes! Today wasn't any different, either. She stood on her porch, snow everywhere, in her blue nightgown, tapping her foot on the ice. God, she was even barefoot! What the hell was wrong with this woman?!
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Discovering Ashes (part 4)
Smelling Dex's cigars was good and all, but after having sat in front of the local bar waiting for some jackass to storm out, drunk as hell, for the past three hours, I was starting to get bored. You can't really do much in the way of free time as a cop. Not while you're on duty. Some cops go grab a bite to eat whenever they feel like it, sure, but not me. I stick to my own ideas about patrol; you don't eat unless you have to, and you don't go wandering around without any idea of where you're going to. Everything's got a purpose, and I ain't no different. But dammit, I hated the cat and mouse game we always played. It was always "Go there and sit and wait, bust anyone we can" or "Let's head over to Joe's and see if we can catch anyone speeding". Important work, but I'd rather catch some douchenozzle trying to rape some schoolgirl than just sit on my ass and wait for some arrogant pisshead of a teenager to come flying by in mommy's SUV.
"Hey Dex," I asked. He answered with a puff of smoke. "If you hate this job so much, why don't you retire?"
Dex just laughed for a second before taking his cigar from his mouth and holding it up in front of his face. After having worked with Dex so long, you'd think I'd have seen just about every expression the guy has to offer. Not this time. This time, the look on his face scared me a bit. Well, not so much scared, so much as it worried me. The way he stared at that cigar, watching it slowly turn to ashes in his hand was just... unnatural for him.
"Y'see, Jack," He said, twisting the cigar to get a better look at it's side. "I'm like this here cigar, y'know? I got a slow burn until someone comes and starts suckin' the life outta me. The way I see it, a Cigar's best little moment is that last puff, y'know? That one, last flash of light and fire before some fucker goes and puts it out for good."
"Dex," I paused. "What the fuck does that even mean?"
"It means that I wanna go out like a cigar! I wanna have that one last flash a fire. Way I see it, bein' a cop's the best way for me to do that."
I looked at my partner, trying to figure him out for the first time in two years. Was he honestly saying he wanted to go down in some stupid blaze-of-fuckin'-glory? The hell kinda way was that to go? Dex was a good guy, a damn good cop when he wanted to be, and my friend most of all. So why the hell would he want to go looking for his own OK Corral?
"Alright, Butch if you wanna go out like that, maybe I can call up a few jackasses in Harbor Pen and see if they're up to having it out with an old Blue Boy like yourself."
It was a joke, of course, but Dex looked over to me with a sad smile on his face. The ashes from his cigar fell onto his lap, but he didn't notice.
"Would you?" he asked. Chills went up my spine. Did Dex want me to call in a few favors I'd racked up and get him his last wish? His stupid smile disappeared into a childish laugh and I had to take a few figurative steps back to get in touch with whatever reality I'd just stepped in.
"You shoulda seen the look on your face!" He giggled. I could only laugh lightly. I could feel the blood rush to my face as I got embarrassed and pissed at the same time. I felt like punching Dex for his stupid little prank, but I still couldn't fight the nagging little voice that kept saying 'He ain't bluffing, Jack' over and over again.
"Ah, you're a fuckin' asshole, Dex," I punched his arm for being such a jackass, smiling the whole time. Despite the little voice, Dex was always a joker and I should've expected that from him. Just as he started brushing off the ashes into the floor of our car, our radio crackled into the air with a report of a possible burglary a few blocks away. Dex took a long drag on his cigar, waving his hand at the radio.
"Fuck it, Jack. That's the crazy bitch from last week. Y'know, the one that thought a black gorilla was trying to steal her car?"
"The one with the cats?"
"Very same."
"You're right. Fuck it. I'll let 'em know we're on our way, but I think we might be having some car trouble. What do you think?"
"Fuckin' thing won't even start"
I shared a laugh with Dex before picking up the radio and pressing the button on the side. The radio came to a sudden halt as I took a breath to calm myself and tell the entire force that we were on the call.
"Car 44's on it. Just let the caller know we'll be a bit late. Having some car issues. Nothing we Can't handle. Should take all of ten minutes."
"Car 44," the woman's voice on the other end said at first. "What's your ETA to the call?"
"We're about five minutes away, so about fifteen minutes in all. Car 44 out."
I put the radio back down in it's little holster and smiled. Dex finished his Cigar, stuffing it into the ashtray of our patrol car. the last remnants of it's smell rose into the air, hitting my nose. I took a deep whiff of it, loving each second of it. I felt great, sitting, relaxing, smelling cigar smoke. Nothing would ruin this day, Partner Suicide comments aside. Before I knew it, though, our ten minutes were up. Dex was kind enough to let me know that. Like I said; he might've hated the job now and then, but he was a good cop. We said 15 minutes, and we'd be there right on time by God.
I took a few extra moments to pull out my cigarettes and lighter. Putting the cigarette between my lips, I instantly tasted the minty flavor. The lighter in my free hand felt so natural as I flipped it open in a quick motion. I put the pack of cigarettes back in my pocket before I flicked the light on. The flames felt warmer than usual when I pulled the lighter close to my face to light the cigarette.
"Hey Dex," I asked. He answered with a puff of smoke. "If you hate this job so much, why don't you retire?"
Dex just laughed for a second before taking his cigar from his mouth and holding it up in front of his face. After having worked with Dex so long, you'd think I'd have seen just about every expression the guy has to offer. Not this time. This time, the look on his face scared me a bit. Well, not so much scared, so much as it worried me. The way he stared at that cigar, watching it slowly turn to ashes in his hand was just... unnatural for him.
"Y'see, Jack," He said, twisting the cigar to get a better look at it's side. "I'm like this here cigar, y'know? I got a slow burn until someone comes and starts suckin' the life outta me. The way I see it, a Cigar's best little moment is that last puff, y'know? That one, last flash of light and fire before some fucker goes and puts it out for good."
"Dex," I paused. "What the fuck does that even mean?"
"It means that I wanna go out like a cigar! I wanna have that one last flash a fire. Way I see it, bein' a cop's the best way for me to do that."
I looked at my partner, trying to figure him out for the first time in two years. Was he honestly saying he wanted to go down in some stupid blaze-of-fuckin'-glory? The hell kinda way was that to go? Dex was a good guy, a damn good cop when he wanted to be, and my friend most of all. So why the hell would he want to go looking for his own OK Corral?
"Alright, Butch if you wanna go out like that, maybe I can call up a few jackasses in Harbor Pen and see if they're up to having it out with an old Blue Boy like yourself."
It was a joke, of course, but Dex looked over to me with a sad smile on his face. The ashes from his cigar fell onto his lap, but he didn't notice.
"Would you?" he asked. Chills went up my spine. Did Dex want me to call in a few favors I'd racked up and get him his last wish? His stupid smile disappeared into a childish laugh and I had to take a few figurative steps back to get in touch with whatever reality I'd just stepped in.
"You shoulda seen the look on your face!" He giggled. I could only laugh lightly. I could feel the blood rush to my face as I got embarrassed and pissed at the same time. I felt like punching Dex for his stupid little prank, but I still couldn't fight the nagging little voice that kept saying 'He ain't bluffing, Jack' over and over again.
"Ah, you're a fuckin' asshole, Dex," I punched his arm for being such a jackass, smiling the whole time. Despite the little voice, Dex was always a joker and I should've expected that from him. Just as he started brushing off the ashes into the floor of our car, our radio crackled into the air with a report of a possible burglary a few blocks away. Dex took a long drag on his cigar, waving his hand at the radio.
"Fuck it, Jack. That's the crazy bitch from last week. Y'know, the one that thought a black gorilla was trying to steal her car?"
"The one with the cats?"
"Very same."
"You're right. Fuck it. I'll let 'em know we're on our way, but I think we might be having some car trouble. What do you think?"
"Fuckin' thing won't even start"
I shared a laugh with Dex before picking up the radio and pressing the button on the side. The radio came to a sudden halt as I took a breath to calm myself and tell the entire force that we were on the call.
"Car 44's on it. Just let the caller know we'll be a bit late. Having some car issues. Nothing we Can't handle. Should take all of ten minutes."
"Car 44," the woman's voice on the other end said at first. "What's your ETA to the call?"
"We're about five minutes away, so about fifteen minutes in all. Car 44 out."
I put the radio back down in it's little holster and smiled. Dex finished his Cigar, stuffing it into the ashtray of our patrol car. the last remnants of it's smell rose into the air, hitting my nose. I took a deep whiff of it, loving each second of it. I felt great, sitting, relaxing, smelling cigar smoke. Nothing would ruin this day, Partner Suicide comments aside. Before I knew it, though, our ten minutes were up. Dex was kind enough to let me know that. Like I said; he might've hated the job now and then, but he was a good cop. We said 15 minutes, and we'd be there right on time by God.
I took a few extra moments to pull out my cigarettes and lighter. Putting the cigarette between my lips, I instantly tasted the minty flavor. The lighter in my free hand felt so natural as I flipped it open in a quick motion. I put the pack of cigarettes back in my pocket before I flicked the light on. The flames felt warmer than usual when I pulled the lighter close to my face to light the cigarette.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
