When I saw the sirens and the golden car, I was fairly sure that I was going to be beaten and possibly killed.
The guy that got out of the car was completely supportive of my forseen idea of the future. He was tall and lean, huge watch on his wrist and sunglasses that completely obscured his eyes. His gun, obviously not a departmental issue weapon, was so heavy that his belt showed wear and tear on the side it was carried on.
The gas station were parked in was deserted and in shambles. Most of the broken glass had been swept away, but the frames of the windows were not pulled and replaced. It looked a lot like a scene from a post-apocalyptic film, and it was definitely the kind of movie where the black guy dies early...
"Mr. Chenault, could you step out of the car please?"
He hasn't even seen my license, so his knowledge of my name in advance can't mean good things.
"Is there a problem, officer?" I said as I got out of the rental.
He holds up a finger and gets on his radio. He was asking about the complaint from the house I had just been in. There was quite a bit of chatter, so I guess he decided he'd rather sit than stand. With a long scratch of the hair under his hat, he settled against the hood of his car and began writing down whatever was being said.
After about ten minutes of me standing there scared and him writing and scratching, he stood and turned off his radio.
"You been to Don's house today?"
"Yeah. His wife --"
"Right."
He walked a little closer to me, his mirrored glasses shining in the sun. The dust was starting to really make my nose itch. I scratched with one sweaty hand and used the other to shield my eyes from the sun.
Click
The radio stopped making the hissing sound I'd now grown used to tuning out. I was now terrified. My bladder instantly filled to capacity and forced my knees together. I was certain he was going to shoot me and leave me there.
"... Don's wife is a real bitch, ain't she?"
I was so shocked that I dropped my keys. I laughed sheepishly.. after all, what kind of response can you give to that?
"You just be sure you don't go over there no more. Otherwise I'll have to lock you up. You want that?"
"No sir."
"Right. Have a good day, man."
He left with tires spinning in the sand. I waited till I couldn't read his plates anymore and took a long, exasperated leak. Suddenly scared of the exposure, since I'd chosen to piss behind a dead pump, I tucked in and peeled out.
After that, I secretly carried a knife with me on every call. I got caught with it in the airport and lost it long after I left Mississippi, but I'll always remember buying it and giving the story as my reason. The guy I bought it from, Otis if I remember correctly pulled out a bowie knife from under his jean jacket and set it on the table. He told me I should buy a gun if I wanted to get away. I just laughed and said my chances of getting away were "slim to none" even with a gun, so why not "give them an injury to remind them of me." He laughed and just said:
"Make sure to twist it. Breaks the bone if you've hit a limb or gores and tears when you've hit the torso."
I raised an eyebrow and he just said "same reason you got yours, I got mine."
And that's my best cop story.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Monday, June 12, 2006
Requests - Number Eight With Cheese Grits - Part 1
The house was not on my hot list for the day. My targets were at least <<3>>s and this guy was no "fence rider." He and his brother had sat on the "Vote No" committee the last time there was an election, and voting no was usually the last thing on their agenda of ideas to implant in the heads of their fellow workers.
His house visit started with him telling me to get the hell off his lawn. He wasn't mad, he was just sure there wasn't anything that could change his mind. So we just started talking about his job now and how it was different from any other job he'd ever had. How it wasn't worth losing over nothing and how shitty his other jobs were. One job he had was for a shoe factory that was union. The plant closed after a month of fairly bitter infighting. The international signed a sweetheart deal, closed the plant, and raided the pensions. This was before the first real rounds of consolidation, so naturally the union he used to work for no longer exists.
I immediately smelled a rat. We're working too hard on this anti-union angle, and none of it is coming out of the woods clean. I move the conversation in a positive direction, and he brings up his wife. I try to ask him to repeat himself, he talks about his wife. So then I ask about his wife, and he doesn't want to talk about her. "She's not here to say anything, so why should I?" I'm starting to see why this guy was a <<4>>. It was like talking to the birds from Labyrinth...
The door on his porch swings open and out walks his wife, almost on cue. He turns green as a can of Mountain Dew and profusely apologizes. Obscenities fly from her mouth, and then the raving really starts. "All you people want to do is strike! Union sonsabitches! I know what you're trying to do! I've heard all about your nonsense! We're not getting firebombed."
Don (that was his name) was horrified. "I'm sorry, son."
Me: What? Firebomb?
Pissed Lady: Don't try to deny it! You all don't care about us! You're here for the money!
Me: What money?
Pissed Lady: And if you don't get it, you'll burn us out or worse!
Me: Maam, firebombings haven't occured in relation to a union action in 80 years.
Pissed Lady: You're gonna lie, regardless!
[slams the door and goes back into the house]
He tells me I should probably leave before she comes back. I tell him that although she's truly a bear, I'm not exactly talking about Amway here. He understands, but his marriage is more important to him than his job. I acknowledge this and return to my car. She apparently wasn't satisfied with my departure time and decided to expedite it with weapons and words... in short, a butcher knife in one hand and a baby in the other, she came out screaming.
I slide over the hood of my car like Bo Duke, starting the car before I close my door. Her other children apologize profusely using only lips, trying to restrain the mother before she slices my right front tire. I leave pretty fast, trying not to scream as Mom rushes my car, breaking free of her children's grip. The last I see of her is a shoe unsuccessfully tossed at my back window that lands in the middle of the gravel road.
My sweat stains the seat of the car, making my ride to the highway uncomfortable... but not as uncomfortable as I will be in the next five minutes as the sirens wail behind me. She didn't just call the police, but she called the sheriff. The deputy was right on time, catching me in front of an abandoned gas station.
The exciting conclusion in Part 2.
His house visit started with him telling me to get the hell off his lawn. He wasn't mad, he was just sure there wasn't anything that could change his mind. So we just started talking about his job now and how it was different from any other job he'd ever had. How it wasn't worth losing over nothing and how shitty his other jobs were. One job he had was for a shoe factory that was union. The plant closed after a month of fairly bitter infighting. The international signed a sweetheart deal, closed the plant, and raided the pensions. This was before the first real rounds of consolidation, so naturally the union he used to work for no longer exists.
I immediately smelled a rat. We're working too hard on this anti-union angle, and none of it is coming out of the woods clean. I move the conversation in a positive direction, and he brings up his wife. I try to ask him to repeat himself, he talks about his wife. So then I ask about his wife, and he doesn't want to talk about her. "She's not here to say anything, so why should I?" I'm starting to see why this guy was a <<4>>. It was like talking to the birds from Labyrinth...
The door on his porch swings open and out walks his wife, almost on cue. He turns green as a can of Mountain Dew and profusely apologizes. Obscenities fly from her mouth, and then the raving really starts. "All you people want to do is strike! Union sonsabitches! I know what you're trying to do! I've heard all about your nonsense! We're not getting firebombed."
Don (that was his name) was horrified. "I'm sorry, son."
Me: What? Firebomb?
Pissed Lady: Don't try to deny it! You all don't care about us! You're here for the money!
Me: What money?
Pissed Lady: And if you don't get it, you'll burn us out or worse!
Me: Maam, firebombings haven't occured in relation to a union action in 80 years.
Pissed Lady: You're gonna lie, regardless!
[slams the door and goes back into the house]
He tells me I should probably leave before she comes back. I tell him that although she's truly a bear, I'm not exactly talking about Amway here. He understands, but his marriage is more important to him than his job. I acknowledge this and return to my car. She apparently wasn't satisfied with my departure time and decided to expedite it with weapons and words... in short, a butcher knife in one hand and a baby in the other, she came out screaming.
I slide over the hood of my car like Bo Duke, starting the car before I close my door. Her other children apologize profusely using only lips, trying to restrain the mother before she slices my right front tire. I leave pretty fast, trying not to scream as Mom rushes my car, breaking free of her children's grip. The last I see of her is a shoe unsuccessfully tossed at my back window that lands in the middle of the gravel road.
My sweat stains the seat of the car, making my ride to the highway uncomfortable... but not as uncomfortable as I will be in the next five minutes as the sirens wail behind me. She didn't just call the police, but she called the sheriff. The deputy was right on time, catching me in front of an abandoned gas station.
The exciting conclusion in Part 2.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Requests: Number Five With A Bullet
Nine rolled around right as I hit my cell phone asterisk.
Nine usually means the weird people will begin to appear, and not because they meet in our shady backroom where all the nasty pornos are stored.
Seems to me that an hour before closing is exactly when those of us in society who wish to remain an interesting character in a story come out of our caves, seeking interaction. I used to do shit like that too... show up somewhere just to fuck with people because it was late and I had a hard day. But the combination of that kind of person and pornography morphs into something... outrageous.
The owner of the store refused to believe me, especially when I noted that the phenomenon always seems to be a combination of late-night-creep and desperation tactic.
The off chance that he would show up at 9:07 seemed unusual... he probably was investigating the phenomenon.
At 9:08 he got his wish.
In walks Kina (name changed of course) and her girlfriend Denise, dragging Delaney behind them, his hair in braids. All three are gay, living together (sorta) and dayplaying with a community group. Kina hasn't been to the store in months and is obviously trying to get out of her late fees... and in fact calls to me, trying to get me to change them. Denise looks for a movie, a little depressed and ready to go home. Delaney immediately starts up.
Me: What's up?
Kina: My fees! Gotta get rid of em for me...
Me: Uhhhhh...
Kina: Please?
Me: Meet the store owner.
(Boss waves her over)
Kina: How much do we owe?
Me: I dunno.
Boss: 34 dollars? And you haven't returned them!
Me: So that's why you've been gone.
Denise: So we can't get a movie? That's disappointing...
Delaney: I want a membership!
Me: Okay. I need your DLicense and Credit Card.
Delaney: I left my license at home.
Boss to Kina: I'll halve them... 16.
Kina: I don't have 16 bucks!
Boss: How much do you have?
Kina: Two dollars... and some change.
(Long Sigh)
Delaney: I want a membership!
Me: No license, no membership! Do you even have a credit card?
Delaney: Well... no. But you know me!
Me: True, but you still need ID.
Boss: Okay... how about 8 bucks?
Kina: I only have 2 dollars!
Boss: How were you going to pay for your movie? The one you picked was 3 dollars.
Kina: Please!?!
Denise: It's okay.. we'll just have to come back later.
Kina: I want my movie now though!
Delaney: I'll get a membership and then we can get a free one...
Me; That offer's been over for months.
Delaney: But you know me.! You guys are evil!
Me: Oh Lord...
And so it continued. Finally, convinced that we weren't budging, they left.
Boss: What the fuck?
Me: I know.
Boss: Is it always..?
Me: Yeah.
Boss: With them or in...?
Me: Yeah. Most of the 9PM customers are just like that.
Boss:...
He pays me a dollar more an hour now.
Nine usually means the weird people will begin to appear, and not because they meet in our shady backroom where all the nasty pornos are stored.
Seems to me that an hour before closing is exactly when those of us in society who wish to remain an interesting character in a story come out of our caves, seeking interaction. I used to do shit like that too... show up somewhere just to fuck with people because it was late and I had a hard day. But the combination of that kind of person and pornography morphs into something... outrageous.
The owner of the store refused to believe me, especially when I noted that the phenomenon always seems to be a combination of late-night-creep and desperation tactic.
The off chance that he would show up at 9:07 seemed unusual... he probably was investigating the phenomenon.
At 9:08 he got his wish.
In walks Kina (name changed of course) and her girlfriend Denise, dragging Delaney behind them, his hair in braids. All three are gay, living together (sorta) and dayplaying with a community group. Kina hasn't been to the store in months and is obviously trying to get out of her late fees... and in fact calls to me, trying to get me to change them. Denise looks for a movie, a little depressed and ready to go home. Delaney immediately starts up.
Me: What's up?
Kina: My fees! Gotta get rid of em for me...
Me: Uhhhhh...
Kina: Please?
Me: Meet the store owner.
(Boss waves her over)
Kina: How much do we owe?
Me: I dunno.
Boss: 34 dollars? And you haven't returned them!
Me: So that's why you've been gone.
Denise: So we can't get a movie? That's disappointing...
Delaney: I want a membership!
Me: Okay. I need your DLicense and Credit Card.
Delaney: I left my license at home.
Boss to Kina: I'll halve them... 16.
Kina: I don't have 16 bucks!
Boss: How much do you have?
Kina: Two dollars... and some change.
(Long Sigh)
Delaney: I want a membership!
Me: No license, no membership! Do you even have a credit card?
Delaney: Well... no. But you know me!
Me: True, but you still need ID.
Boss: Okay... how about 8 bucks?
Kina: I only have 2 dollars!
Boss: How were you going to pay for your movie? The one you picked was 3 dollars.
Kina: Please!?!
Denise: It's okay.. we'll just have to come back later.
Kina: I want my movie now though!
Delaney: I'll get a membership and then we can get a free one...
Me; That offer's been over for months.
Delaney: But you know me.! You guys are evil!
Me: Oh Lord...
And so it continued. Finally, convinced that we weren't budging, they left.
Boss: What the fuck?
Me: I know.
Boss: Is it always..?
Me: Yeah.
Boss: With them or in...?
Me: Yeah. Most of the 9PM customers are just like that.
Boss:...
He pays me a dollar more an hour now.
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