A Cop

A Cop


shit

shit,

He's gotta be lookin' for somebody else. Come on, copper, don't turn on your lights, ain't no donuts over here. Just keep on driving, copper, just keep on driving, nobody else has got to die tonight. You don't want me....SHIT!

That's what you get for bein' sloppy. Gettin' old. Speedin', god damn.

Alright, Jimmie Rae, just pull over nice and slow. Be cool, boy, be cool. Ease it in like a virgin girl's first fuck. Don't hit that curb, now. Put her in park and cut the engine. He don't need to know nothin' and he ain't gonna know. Now roll down that window. Shit, he ain't out yet. Must be runnin' a check. Hope ol' Terry had a clean record. No, no, now Jimmie Rae, YOU'RE Terry now, and don't you forget that. You're a fat old dead fuck thinks he's better'n ever'body else. Just reach over real nice and casual like and get that insurance and registration and everything outta that there glove box like it was the whole world's fault you're so fat and dumb. Then sit there like some big city pussy and wait. Alright, here he comes, now. Wait for it... okay, now;

“Good evenin', officer, is there a problem?”

“Well sir, you were going a little fast, there, you know this is a 30 mile per hour zone. I clocked you doing 43.Lemme see your license and registration.”

Jimmie Rae had been staring at the cop's throat like it was ice cream and he was a fat man in the desert. Be cool, now Jimmie Rae. You already got one in the trunk. Now hand him them papers, and give it a little heavy breathin' like ol' Terry always done, like you just finished beatin' your meat.

The cop watched him with an air of detached suspicion. Probably looks at pussy like that, wonderin' where the smell's comin’from. Jimmie Rae handed the papers to him blankly, adding an, “Everythin's in order, I do believe, officer.”

The cop stared at Jimmie Rae, comparing him to the driver's license. Jimmie Rae searched the cop’s face obliviously. Guess I don't look dumb enough to be Terry, huh, cop?

“That's a old picture. I been on a diet since they made that. Lost near fifty pounds.

Been meaning to get my license renewed.”

The cop continued to stare at Jimmie Rae.

Shit, boy, I'm sweatin'like a Tijuana whore during the pope’s visit. My shirt's damn near soaked through. 'At fat fucker was heavy. What you want, cop? You wanna search my car? Think I'm on the mary-jew-wanna?

Is that all you need?” Jimmie Rae broke the silence with a grin. Don't be cocky, now, Jimmie Rae. A cop's like a woman -- long as they think they're callin' the shots, they'll do anything you want.

The cop sneered back at him, then turned and walked back to his car, not even answering Jimmie Rae's question. Jimmie Rae watched the cop in the rearview mirror. Hell I look like death. Took too long this time. Gettin' sloppy, that's what it is, that's all it is. Terry was on to mepure and simple. Loosing my damn edge. Getting old and fat. It's all them carbs,like they talk about on TV. Hell, if I hadn't drugged him, ol' Terry'd got away, too. It's time to give it up.Here I am begging, just begging the feds to put me out of business.

He absently combed his hair down with his fingers, and wiped the sweat off of his face. Hell I'm all stove up and give out just from carryin' that bastard. Time was, I could carry a body six, seven miles on foot, totin' a shovel and a bag of lime. These days I can barely get them in the trunk. Old habits. I'm gettin' cocky. Hell, here I am about to get a ticket, maybe get shut down for good. Never woulda happened ten years ago. Hell, five. I been runnin' from this for too long. I'm just gettin' too old. Time to retire. Shit, he's comin' back.

The cop walked slowly back up to Jimmie Rae's window, with his clipboard and something Jimmie Rae didn't recognize in hand.

"You had anything to drink, tonight, Mr. Wilkins?"

"No officer. I haven't."

"Why don't you step out of the car, Mr. Wilkins."

Jimmie Rae exited the car slowly.

"Now what I'm going to have you do, is blow into this so we can measure your blood alcohol level." The cop handed Jimmie Rae the nozzle. He searched the cop's face and blew hesitantly.

"You can do better than that, Mr. Wilkins. I need you to blow for me. Keep blowing until I say to stop."

Jimmie Rae felt doubt pass over his face like clouds in a clear sky.

"Pucker up real good," the cop said. He was wearing the biggest grin Jimmie Rae had ever seen anyone else wear.

Jimmie Rae glared at the cop for a second, then put his lips on the nozzle and blew.

"That's good, that's real good," the cop said. He studied the apparatus then moved his eyes up to Jimmie Rae and watched him blow for several seconds. Jimmie Rae felt his face redden.

"You can stop now. Looks like you're clean." The cop winked at him. “Sign here,” he said, turning the clip-board to Jimmie Rae and offering him a pen. He handed the ticket over. “Try to slow it down in the future,” he said and started to walk back to his car.

Jimmie Rae nodded, shaking with rage, then he opened the car door, laid the ticket on the seat beside him, pulled his gun out from under the seat, and shot the bastard in the back of the head.

"Give me a fuckin' ticket!" He roared. He shot the cop three more times quick. "Blow that you asshole bastard! You winkin' bastard!" Before the cop's body hit the ground, Jimmie Rae was to the cop's car. The camera stuck up in between the front seats like an alien head. Jimmie Rae reached in through the driver's side window and point blank shot the camera. Lucky I got on my elvis shoes, make me look tall, and my brown-headed wig, so's they won't recognize me. No, it ain't luck a'tall. It's skill, pure and simple. He went back to Terry's car, popped the trunk and bulldogged the cop's body in, on top of the other one. "Roomy trunk, you got there, Terry. They don't make 'em like that anymore. You too fellers just rest awhile. Watch out, Terry, this one prob'ly wants to cuddle."

He got the keys and rummaged in the cop's trunk till he found a flare, which he lit and stuck in the cruiser's gas tank. He walked back to Terry's car quickly, cranked it, and put on his signal, as the cruiser exploded behind him, and pulled into traffic, with a smile on his face and feeling a youthful exuberance he thought had died some cold death, years and years ago.




C.L. Bledsoe

Posted over on Ascent Aspirations