The Dirty Cop (767 hits)
Category: Sound & MusicLabels: T&MM
Rating: 2 on 8 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Susie Derkins (View user info) at 2006-12-19 11:38:45 EST
The Boy Scout (pt 1) http://www.ubersite.com/m/94323
The Lowlife (pt 2) http://www.ubersite.com/m/94390
"Monkey Man's in trouble."
My idiot sister Jan is calling again. This girl has made the worst choices in life, especially when it came to men. And of course, it's always up to big brother to fix her little jams. I don't mind most of the time; she's my sister, right? But when she starts asking for favours for her lowlife friends, that's when I get pissed. What if I wasn't a cop? She and her friends would be SOL, that's what.
"What now?" I asked disinterestedly.
"His new partner is threatening to expose him." She replied, "He's blackmailing him for a bigger cut of the profits and you know that he has enough trouble making ends meet."
"Maybe if he didn't put his profits up his nose...."
"That's rather hypocritical of you, John."
"Shut up." I snarled, "You know full well that I don't put my...habit before my necessary expenses. That jerkoff blows all his money on his own habit and then comes running to you when he needs rent money or a quick lay."
"You are SUCH a judgmental, hypocritical asshole..."
"You're not making me want to help your friend by calling me names, Jan."
She sighed and I could hear a familiar chopping noise. I felt a twinge go through me and I fought to ignore it. I'd been trying to wean myself off of that shit; I didn't like having to kiss the Monkey Man's ass to get something I shouldn't need. I heard her snort a line and sniffle a few times before speaking again.
"Listen, John, you need him. I need him. So you need to help him."
"I don't need him and neither do you."
"Wake up!" she snapped, "Now listen, he's taking Tweeter to Jersey. He called me from a motel in Binghamton, New York about ten minutes ago. They're driving a brown Cadillac El Dorado. He wants to get rid of Tweeter, so make it look like a bust gone wrong, like he went after you with a gun or something and you had to defend yourself. And remember, Monkey Man was not involved, he wasn't even there."
"Yeah, yeah." I muttered as I heard her do another line.
"So you'll do this for me?" she sniffled.
"Fine."
"Thanks big brother."
"Fuck off." I growled and hung up. I stubbed out my cigarette and contemplated my situation.
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What am I doing out here? This is crazy, I hate this guy and I'm going out of my way to help him. I'm driving all the way to New Jersey to murder someone just to make his pathetic life easier? Fuck him. But Jan.... she was right. I do need him, I hate to admit it, but I do. I can't get off the drug. I should enter a treatment program, but then my secret would be out. I would be the dirty cop, the cokehead cop who's a slave to his dealer. Shunned by my own and shut out of the brotherhood. Sure there were other dirty cops on the force, but none of the straight cops associate with them. I'm not like them; my life doesn't completely revolve around my next fix. I don't steal "evidence" from the locker. The real dirty cops are in bed with entire gangs; I've only got one man I deal with. But if I were exposed, it wouldn't matter. I would be lumped in. This would be easier if I were an alcoholic rather than a friggin' drug addict.
I rolled into Binghamton and went to the motel Jan told me about. I spoke with the guy running the desk about the two men that had rented a room the night before. He went off on a tirade about how they didn't pay for their room and stole all his towels. Jesus.
"Buddy," I said impatiently, "I don't give a rat's ass about your towels. Did you see them leave?"
"I sure did, I chased them halfway down the road."
"Halfway?"
"I got tired of running. I want my money!" he was getting shrill now. I was getting more agitated with each word he spoke, his voice grating on my brain. I resisted the urge to smash his face off the fake wood grain counter.
"How long ago was this? And be brief."
"They left yesterday at around ten in the morning." He said, "Are you going to get my money?"
"It's fifteen dollars," I responded gruffly as I walked out the door, "Get over it."
I was a day behind them. If I drove through the night, I'd be able to catch up. I need some .... No! No fucking cocaine! I drove to a truck stop further down the highway to call Jan and see if she'd heard from Monkey Man again. She said they were on the Jersey border now, Bartonsville on Highway 80. He was going to grab a room just after it got dark, so I was to call her then to find out where. I bought some No-Doz, an extra large coffee and got on my way. Traded one chemical dependency for another.
At 9:30 the next morning, after driving like a maniac all night, I sat in my car across the street from the Lido Motel in Stroudsburg. Drinking my fourth cup of coffee of the night/morning, I waited for those losers to come out. Monkey Man exited the Motel room first, looking around him as he threw a bag into the trunk. He was swaying a bit as he walked, probably still drunk from the night before. What an asshole. Someone I assumed to be Tweeter emerged a minute later. No wonder Monkey Man wants to get rid of him; he looks too straight laced for his tastes. He wasn't staggering, he looked alert and even clean. Huh. I pulled into the lot and parked behind their car.
"Good morning gentlemen," I said as I exited my car and drew my gun. "Hands on the backs of your heads and turn to face me. Slowly."
Both Tweeter and the Monkey Man raised their hands in the air and turned my way. As Monkey Man's eyes met mine, I saw a flicker of a smile. That cocky fucking smile. That cocky fucking smile that screamed "I have you by the balls and there's nothing you can do about it." My face burned and my hands shook. NO!
"Wipe that fucking smile of your face, dickhead!" I bellowed. Monkey Man refused to comply, he kept grinning. I advanced on him and smashed him across the face with my gun. "Does that make it easier?"
Monkey Man fell into the dust and looked up at me in disbelief, blood trickling down the side of his face. I leaned in close to him, so close that I hoped he could smell the fetid coffee on my breath and the sweat on my shirt.
"That's right, Monkey Man," I whispered in his ear. "The game ends here."
User Reviews
Submitted by badglobe (user info) at 2007-07-27 11:48:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Haha! Yeah, I guess the piss stain should have been yellow on my first post. Cheers!
Submitted by HighVoltage900 (user info) at 2006-12-25 12:23:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Much to still being alive yes. Stop.
Sorry I haven't written I moved into a new house and I rarely use my computer anymore since I'm so busy. Stop. I will be contacting you using a direct line telegram. Stop.
Submitted by Wisher (user info) at 2006-12-19 23:49:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
like a script to a gritty sundance flick. Yea!
Submitted by swimmingbirdblue (user info) at 2006-12-19 20:52:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Each episode gets better. Gimme more!
Submitted by Sepsis (user info) at 2006-12-19 15:53:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by yhywstudios (user info) at 2006-12-19 14:50:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-12-19 13:21:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
"The game ends here."
Love that line!
Submitted by icarus1987 (user info) at 2006-12-19 12:42:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I KEEL YOU DEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!