No blue marlins
Let's find out whats going on with detective Johnson and the guy with no dick as I try to rid myself of the American demon by writing junk
Johnson wanted none of this. He'd done his twenty years on the force long ago, he had gotten nowhere and he was ready to retire, catch some blue marlins down in the Keys, drink rum by the gallons, smoke weed with other retired cops, maybe work some security for an extra buck. He had contacts, others who had come before him. Lemberg and Davidsen. That wouldn’t have been a problem. Not that. But when he was all ready to say thanks and goodbye his wife had found out about his mistress and they had divorced and then he had married his mistress and then they had also divorced but before any of that she got pregnant. So now he was done for, never to retire.. And the kid probably wasn't his. The kid looked like a spic, his mother was a spic, so that could possibly partially explain that thing, but the kid looked like a full spic, not half a spic and if he was the father the kid would undeniably look like half a spic, since Johnson was not some dago but a blue eyed son of a son of an immigrant from Scandinavia somewhere. He didn't even like the kid.. Nice enough but stupid and fat and lazy. Johnson loved his real children but they hated him. That’s how it goes. Anyway, everyone wanted money from him and the Keys were out of the question. Just as well, he would probably get some Cuban bitch knocked up down there too.. Dig himself even deeper into the shit..
Such were his thoughts..
"So what you're saying is that the man ran in that direction?" Johnson pointed in that direction.
"and as he ran over there, pantsless, bleeding, with his hands between his legs, he yelled god damn n-word whore.. Is that right?"
"No, sir, that's not true, that ain’t what i’m saying." said the neighbor who had witnessed how a now dead man with his genitals cut off ended up on that vacant lot over there, or parts of how it had happened at least.
"What's not right ma’am?" Johnson asked.
“He didn't shout he screamed, he screamed like a wild animal and he didn't scream the n-word. He screamed YOU FUCKING NIGGER WHORE AAAAAH NIGGGEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRR just like that. Not like some white boy from the hood, not like that, but NIGGER like he was some good ol' boy from down south, like a klansman, NIGGER, just like that.”
"Ok, the n-word with an e and an r at the end, not an a. Noted , it's good with details, good." said Johnson without actually giving a damn. Fuck that dead guy.
“He said NIGGER” said the neighbor “or he didn't say anything he screamed NIGGER. He didn't say n-ah or n-er. He screamed NIGGER. FUCKING NIGGER WHORE. Just like that.”
Johnson didn't like where this was going. The woman was black and agitated and these were sensitive times they lived in. His hands were tied. It didn't matter if he was quoting a dead man with no dick, it didn't matter at all if the words weren't his. As a white detective, he absolutely could not write NIGGER in a report. WHORE would be ok but under no circumstances could he write NIGGER.
“I understand Mrs. Jackson, Mrs right?, I understand exactly what you are saying. And in so many words, I will write it down. The distinction you mention is important and will be noted.”
Mrs. Jackson looked at him with a look that said I don't like cops, I don't trust cops and most of all I don't like you and defiantly said:
"he didn't say the n-word, he screamed NIGGER at the top of his lungs.. I want you to write it down and I want you to read it back just like that.”
"Mrs. Jackson, I can't, it's just not possible."
Johnson was tired even before this, the job was a pain for him. An absolute pain. He was already tired before but now he was dead tired, he just wanted to go home and have a drink, watch TV, jerk off and sleep.. He didn't even want to eat, just drink, jerk off and sleep.. And this was what he got. This was what god sent his way. A rowdy ghetto bitch from a long line of rowdy bitches. A nasty bitch who hated cops and who had witnessed something terrible, a man running down the street in wild panic with his dick cut off and two bullet holes in his head and yet he still lived a little, enough to run down to a deserted lot and die and to scream NIGGER WHORE for all he was worth as he was dying. And now Mrs Jackson had to tell him what she had seen and he had to take notes..
“Are you afraid of black folk sir? Afraid of black folk is that it?”
"Ms. Jackson, I could get my African-American colleague over here, would you rather speak to him?"
“Sir, I don't want to talk to any of you, I want the report to be correct. You think I only want to talk to black folk? Is that how you want it? That only black cops take care of the black crimes down here? Say NIGGER.”
“Ms. Jackson, don't tell me what to say.”
Johnson was getting impatient, how could this damn monkey stand there and say what he can or can't say. He is the one in charge of the talking. If only Williams had been first to respond. God damn it.
"Say it sir, say n-i-g-g-e-r.”
Johnson was trying to hold his growing rage back.
"That's enough. Not another word about this. One more word and I'll book you.”
“Uhuh, i know my rights sir. Say NIGGER NIGGER NIGGER NIGGER.” She was now jumping and hollering and was being overly dramatic like some guest on Jerry Springer.
"NIGGGEEERRRR NIGGGEGGRRRE NIGGEGR.. SAY IT!"
"Ms. Jackson, that's enough, enough cussing, you're under arrest, I'm arresting you for contempt of an officer, for disorderly conduct, all that. That's enough!"
"Say it.. NIGGER.. NIGGER.. NIGGER"
"I'M NOT GOING TO IT SAY YOU DUMB NIGG..." he stopped himself. Damn, close call he thought.
"Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit."
“Johnson, I'll take over from here.”
Williams, finally, that was really about time you black son of a bitch Johnson thought and quickly got his ass out of there, towards the lot and towards the poor dickless guy.. He lit a cigarette with trembling hands. Close call, jeez.
´.
were you able to rid yourself of the american demon?
Good shit, you're really entertaining