15
Jun
09

Defiance in the face of inevitability

The back of the cruiser was cramped, so focused on safety that I could barely fit inside. The screen that separates the back from front seat extends from the roof to the floor, completely blocking off the underside of the driver’s seat. My feet were pressed hard against the barrier, curled up and stretched. The handcuffs dug into my wrists, slicing as I tried to adjust my position.

The deputy groaned loudly as he sat in the driver’s seat, almost lounging across the cab. He tapped away at the keys of his on board computer and laughed to himself. I tried to stretch my neck to catch a glimpse of the screen, the cuffs catching the upholstery and tearing out a seam with a “pop”.

The deputy glanced back and swung the table the laptop rested on to a greater angle. “Whatever you’re doing back there, quit it.” He seemed annoyed at my presence. He smiled as he tapped away, laughing to himself. “You’re fucked, kiddo.”

I stretched me neck, cracking it as I turned. I felt annoyed, frustrated that it was going to end with this. Picked up walking home from a random girl’s house simply by looking drunk and undesirable. My beard itched, and my wrists hurt. I simmered slowly, and could feel the heat build in my face.

“Oh yeah? Fucked?”

“Oh yeah. Fucked.”

He straightened in his seat and reached for his radio. He mumbled something that most likely only made sense to cops. There was a response over the line, it was short and made little more sense then what he had said. “Do you know what happens to people like you?”

He turned back to me and grinned wide. His face was craggy and old. The cleft in his chin was so severe that there were hairs caught in the crevice that could never be shaved by conventional means. “Really? Do you have any idea?”

He laughed again, a wheezing laugh full of phlegm. His voice cracked, and the sound of a trillion Camels like steel wool scraping the inside of his lungs.

I grinned back, smarmy and toothless. Wearing my disdain as a mask. I pictured the most punchable face I’d ever seen and slipped it on. “No, sir, not at all. I’ve never yelled ‘Fire!’ in a crowded theater before.”

He turned back to the wheel and shut the door to the cruiser with authority. He glanced back at me through the rear-view mirror, his eyes narrowing. “Enjoy it. I hope you can speak Arabic.”

Without hesitation. “Your mom taught me. While I fucked her in the ass last night.” Couldn’t help myself.

He dropped the car into drive and pulled out onto the road. I settled again in the seat, stretching my legs across the whole of the cab. “Nice and roomy back here. It’s nice.”

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Mike Black is…

A writer, reader, commentator, music lover, art lover, futurist, tech lover, pragmatist, romantic, DepDecoist, and a bastard. Hopefully you enjoy.

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