Monday, November 29, 2010

Tales of a Drunken Degenerate, Chapter 27, Copyright 2010, Robert J. Day



“So can somebody tell me what the fuck happened? I mean, I know my side of the story, but how did we all end up here?” The three of you are sitting around Oscar’s kitchen table, cold bottles of Heineken in front of you, and the awkward and emotional moment from before safely behind you.
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Oscar tells you about how he became suspicious when you never returned to the house and how, in desperation, he finally approached Detective Blake for help. “I guess I felt bad about hitting you, and about what happened to car, even though like I told ya before it wasn’t me that did it. Oscar here told me that you were a decent guy, deep down, and that you were in the process of getting your shit together.” The detective smiled. “Eventually he made me believe him. Anyway, how could I pass up the chance to finally nail those fucking scumbags?”
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“Did you nail them?” asks Oscar. Leaning back in his chair he lights a join he’s pulled from his cigarette pack. He inhales deeply, then to your surprise he offers the joint to the cop. What’s even more surprising is that Blake takes an even bigger hit than Oscar had and then passes the joint to you before saying, “You bet your sawed-off ass I did. Nailed ‘em to the fucking wall, every last one of ‘em. Kidnapping, attempted murder, plus drug trafficking and a shitload of gun charges. It turns out that the safe in the bike shop was chock full of crystal meth and stolen firearms. Of course, I’m going to need you to testify amigo… Can I count on you?”
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Normally, what the cop is asking you would go against all that you hold dear, but those biker thugs took great pleasure in torturing you and would surely have killed you over what amounted to nothing more than a stupid accident. “Yes sir,” you say, looking him dead in the eye, “completely.”
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Oscar fills you in on the rest of the story while you smoke the rest of the joint. He tells you about how Detective Blake was able to lead most of the gang away, disguised as an Aztec Warrior, and how he was then able to take out Roach and Crowbar, using a flash bang grenade Blake had “borrowed” from the local SWAT team, and his own taser.
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“I been dying to try that thing out on some poor bastard ever since I bought it” he said, pulling out and brandishing it at an invisible foe, “strongest one on the market, guaranteed to knock a Rhino flat on it’s ass!”
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“What was up with the dude with the video camera in the car out front?” you ask. “Oh, he was just one of the cameramen from work, I paid him to stake out the place. Figured they might hold off on killing you if they thought there was an investigator or reporter snooping around. Cameras have a tendency to make people nervous.”
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“Probably kept me from taking a bullet or two” said Detective Blake, “good call on having him follow me. You should have seen the way those bastards scattered when I pulled into the lot at the station. Between me and your camera guy, we were able to tell enough lies to finally get a warrant. I rounded up a few of the men from SWAT and we went back to the clubhouse and took ’em down. It was fucking beautiful I’m telling ya!”
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“So what happens now?” you ask. “Now you heal up as best ya can and when it comes time for those jokers to go to trial I’ll let you know. If you have any problems before then, anyone tries to persuade you not to testify, you let me know. In the meantime, I have got to find the sick son of a bitch that’s running around killing kids. Business as usual.”
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He finishes his beer in one long swallow. He’s clearly stoned, looking less like a hard ass now and more like a bear that’s recently awakened from hibernation. “Damn, that is some Primo shit Oscar. I’ll be calling you for a bag of that real soon. On the house of course. “Of course officer” says Oscar. He flips the cop a bird, grinning widely.
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“Be seeing ya” says Detective Randy Blake, saver of your ass and your new buddy. He shakes hands with you both and then he’s out the door.
TO BE CONTINUED...

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