Streets: Love Stories Rerun

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
Professional, career, street cops are well aware of the scenarios depicted in these vignettes. They are short stories of true love gone astray and the trespassing spouse, green with envy and poisonous with jealousy, that comes between the street cop and his or her true love—the streets. True, these are all tragedies that fall far short of Greek, and they might remind some of painful episodes in their life and career, but the stories begged mightily to be told. Those told here are just a few and mercifully short.

Submitted: April 07, 2016

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Submitted: April 07, 2016

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Scene I

“The streets!  The streets!  That’s all you think about.  It’s all you talk about.  If we go to a dinner party, you tell everyone cop stories.  If we go to a church social, you tell everyone cop stories.”

“And, you can’t remember normal people you meet.  People who go to bed at a reasonable hour, get up early and go to a real job.  But you remember every fucking thug you’ve ever arrested, and they walk up to you in public and call you by your name, and you call them by their first names!  We can’t go anywhere in this fucking city where people don’t know you.  Even the whores call you by your name.”

“Okay.  I’ll apply for another position in the department.  Maybe, I’ll transfer to day watch.  I’ll be at home more that way.  We can do more things together.”

“No you won’t, and if you do, they’ll be calling you at home.  Oh, we have this emergency or we have that emergency, California is sliding into the ocean and we need for you to come in a save us.  And what about that little whore, what’s her name.  The one who always pops up if we go to the boardwalk for tacos?  What’s her name?  You always buy her tacos or a sub.  What’s her name.”

“Zenaida.  I’ve know her since she was twelve.  She was a junky.  You know that.  I think she was fourteen the first time I arrested her.  She was high on PCP.”

“So how old is that little toothless beauty.”

She would be nineteen.

“So those people are more important to you than your family?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being kind to people.”

“Especially the whores.  Does she give you freebies on the side?  You son of a bitch.”

“She’s dead.  Somebody gave her a hotshot.They stuffed her body in the dumpster behind the Monte Carlo.  Joe Lopez, the old wino, found her when he was taking out the trash from the Monte Carlo.”

 

Scene II

“You and your fucking job.  They call and you go.  Like a fucking dog.  Here boy, here boy.  Fetch Fido!  How the fuck does it feel, Fido?

“All you think about is that fucking job.  That and things to do with the boys.  And trips to the beach with the boys.And, fishing trips with the boys.  And, wiener roasts with the boys.  You don’t give a flying fuck about me.”

“You’re always welcome to come with us.  We don’t do anything that you’re not welcome to come along on.”

“What makes you think that I want to go places with you and the boys?  I want some time alone.  I want some time with my husband without two little bastards hanging around like flies.”

“They’re our sons.  You gave birth to them.”

Scene III

Sunday morning.  The couple is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading the morning paper.

“Are you fucking him?”

“What?”

“Are you fucking him?”

“Fucking who?”

“Him.”

“Who the fuck is ‘him?’”

“Your partner.”  He drags out the word “partner.”

“Estrada?”

“The Mexican.  Is he your partner?”  Again he drags out the word “partner” and wiggles when he says it.

“He is my patrol partner.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Are you fucking him?”

“No.  What is going on?”  She puts down her paper.

“You tell me.”

“Well, he’s a handsome man.  Hell of a cop.  He and Leticia have been married for over 35 years.  Their youngest child is almost ten years older than either of us.  He takes blood thinners from some sort of heart problem.  He is a lay man in the church.”

“And?”

“Do you ever suck his dick in that police car?  You know, at 3 or 4 in the dark hours of the morning while the city sleeps?  You know, just reaching over and unzipping his pants and pulling it out and just going to town on it the way you used to do me on long trips?  Do you ever give him hand jobs?”

“No.”


 


© Copyright 2017 Eddie C Morton. All rights reserved.

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