Vergil #7 (287 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.83 on 6 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by garudave <misterkick.at.gmail.com> (View user info) at 2007-03-05 00:36:06 EST
(Here's where I stop linking back.)
"This is more than a case of mistaken identity, Mr. Baker."
My head was throbbing, my hand was reminding me that it was broken, and this guy was trying to explain to me that I was suffering from some sort of super-schizophrenia. He was the sheriff, and the guy who arrested me, well, that was the deputy.
He cleared his throat, and adjusted his tie. I wasn't in any mood for his bullshit, so I pounded my good hand on his oak desk. "Listen, man, my name's Gary Ali," I yelled. In retrospect, it was a bad idea, and I think I spit on his face. "Don't you have some... fucking... computer or something you can look that up on?"
His hand had moved to his holster, and he looked at me almost fearfully. His small-town mentality probably wasn't used to such erratic behavior, but fuck... I was confused. I lifted my busted hand to my busted head. "Sheriff, can't you just look that name up? Ali, Gary. Come on, man." I was a mess, and nearly sobbing.
There was a rattling of keys, like loose change, and the sheriff stood. "I'm locking you up, Baker. I'll try to find information on this Ali, you get some rest... get your head straight, boy." His voice was calm, and he lead me out in a manner that matched it.
Home for the night was a cement cube with iron bars, and a cot that was no more than a piece of plywood chained to the wall. I laid on it, and stared at the rugged ceiling.
The whole thing was like a David Lynch movie. I was just hoping I wouldn't die at the end. The whole mystery was coiling around my brain and squeezing. I didn't sleep. So many thoughts and so much pain kept me from rest, and I cursed every moment I lay awake on that uncomfortable hunk of wood. It was shit, to be brief about it.
The hope that I wouldn't die soon turned to a willingness towards the inevitable. I didn't want to get lost in things, I just wanted to end the life I had and move into a shanty in hell. Escape, I guess.
My thoughts were interrupted by a clanging sound... wood on iron. The deputy stood behind the bars, slapping them with his nightstick. It was irritating to look at him, and difficult at that. One of my eyes had swollen. From what I could tell, he had a dopey shitface grin on his face. "I caught myself a murderer!" he shouted in sing-song glee.
"What the fuck?" I asked, puzzled and just as vulgar as always.
He sang the words again, like a mentally handicapped kid who had just passed his driving test. "I caught myself a murderer!"
The sheriff rap-tap-tapped in his heavy boots right up next to his apprentice, and held up some papers. The message soon became clear to me, even before the words escaped his mouth: "Grant Baker... you're wanted for murder." Who? I thought to myself. "Two little girls... you sick son of a bitch. You're stuck with us for three days. You keep quiet and maybe we'll give you the scraps off of our table."
As they walked back the way they came from, I swallowed a lump in my throat that just came right back up. I asked myself, What is this?
Looking back, I would have been happy if it had just been a nightmare.
User Reviews
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-03-05 22:43:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2007-03-05 14:34:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by DudeThatsBOSH (user info) at 2007-03-05 12:32:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
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Submitted by Zebra (user info) at 2007-03-05 12:26:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
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Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-03-05 07:11:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
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Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2007-03-05 03:54:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Consistently good. Please keep this going.