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“You slimy sack of fish shit!” Deputy Ploggard slammed his hairy fist
down onto the grey metal table which separated the two men. His hand landed with such force that it left a fist-shaped
dent in the middle of the table. The noise which followed echoed off the flimsy steel like a thunder effect from
old time radio, reverberating off the tiled walls of the interrogation room. “I'm onto yer game, you.”
Jerry Duke, startled by this sudden outburst, jumped backward, jangling the handcuff chain which kept him fixed
to a kindergarten-sized green plastic chair. “Excuse me? I, I uh... ahh...” Duke stammered incoherently, uncertain
what it was the officer was getting at. He immediately commenced an internal cataloging of his various sins.
“You think yer foolin' me?” Ploggard struck a match against the tarnished badge pinned to the chest of his blue
uniform and lit a long menthol cigaret. “Well, you aint foolin' shit!” He exhaled a plume of bluish smoke into
Jerry's face. “I already know you done it cuz you hate Abe Lincoln. It so much as said so right on the warrant
issued for your arrest. Yer all kinda wrong, you no-good pinko pipsqueak sumbitch!”
“Ahhmmm, I uh...” Duke stared up from his tiny chair dumbfounded. He was looking directly at his own right eye
which was swollen shut by a tremendous hematoma exactly the color of gay pride. He winced at the sight of his injury
which emanated back at him from the deputy's mirrored sunglasses. A trickle of nervous urine seeped from his shriveled
urethra.
“Whatsuh mattuh boy?” the deputy smiled, tracing his dirty index finger around Jerry's thin pink lips. “Aint tawkin',
eh?”
“Arrcckkk, what the... ugh...”
Ploggard plopped himself down on Duke's lap so that they were chest to chest and proceeded to grab him round the
neck with both hands. “Oh well then tough guy, howzabout this?” Keeping a grip on his prisoner's throat, deputy
Ploggard stuck his spit-wetted finger into Duke's swollen face, pushing clear down to the eyesocket beneath.
“C'mon, goddammit, what the hell are you doin'?” Jerry could feel all the blood and pus being forced out of the
injured area.
“Kyee-ououaahhh,” the deputy hissed and spit into Jerry's face.
A fountain of foul, blackened blood erupted from beneath Duke's eyelid. The blood washed up, blinding the eye which
burned even more when he tried in vain to open it in an effort to vent the blood flow.
Behind him Jerry heard the room's single door open on its rusty hinges, then it suddenly fell with a dull metallic
thud against the bare concrete floor.
“Aahhh shit,” Ploggard moaned, looking up sheepishly from his position perched on his prisoner's lap, gently misted
by a fine sheen of sprayed blood droplets.
The gentleman who entered walked around the room to the far side of the table. Jerry could see the man was wearing
a black velour suit, and the star he had pinned to it had six points, as opposed to the Deputy whose peeling silver
star only had five.
“I hope you're my lawyer,” Jerry managed to say, looking the deputy in one eye. “Because we've got one helluva
false imprisonment, police brutality suit.”
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