Cop a feel

AUDIO LINK FOR THE BLIND

Why am I so fat? I know why. I eat so much. I move so very little. I guess I should be asking why I let myself get like this. There is a reason I don’t have any full length mirrors on my house. More than once I have shown up at the station and one of the boys has to tell me to zip up. I can barely fit in my uniform much less see my own zipper. I try to blame genetics but genetics doesn’t put pizza in my gut 4 times a week or go on desert binges. Jenny leaving me certainly put the process into over drive but I was already a good 280lbs when she took off. Don’t get me wrong. She was no slouch herself but I had at least 90lbs on her. For a while I would get warnings about letting my weight get too high from the captain. After I added another hot hundo in 6 months I think I am now a combination of a lawsuit and liability. Everyone sues everyone for everything these days. I wish I could say I am self-conscious and that is why I grew my beard. You know, to hide my chins. The real reason is I just stopped caring. Jenny not only took my heart but also my soul. She was everything to me. No. That is also something I wish I could say. She was good enough and put up with my laziness for a while. God, I suck. I think this as I polish off a “big gulp”. I mix diet and normal Coke to make myself feel better. But then I add sugar. One of those strange behaviors that only the obese can understand. Some kind of weird rationalization that you are starting to change. You aren’t. You are fat.

I am not a good cop. Never was. I just wanted to feel powerful. I felt powerless against my appetite and laziness. It made me feel good to have power over people. I never understood “protect and serve”. Well, I guess I mean I never thought about it. That is until I was in court for tazing a kid for mouthing off to me. Like he knew the laws better than me? Like he could quote his rights better than me? I am a police officer. That is something that deserves respect. It turns out he DID know his rights and knew WAY more about the law than I did. Did you know there is such thing as a citizen’s arrest? I didn’t. When an angry mob arrest you for smacking the kid in the mouth with your stick you learn what it is real quick. The only reason I kept my job is because I think people felt sympathy for me as the local news played footage of me sobbing uncontrollably on the ground in my own cuffs as a little girl called me a cry baby. I claimed I was on anti-depressants and it had altered my mood and judgment. They quickly proved that this wasn’t due to a blood test but they did show my estrogen levels were sky high due to my obesity. After that I fell into the groove of just being your average lazy cop. I clock in and clock out. I try to turn the other way if I witness something that will require paperwork.

One thing I am really good at is chasing people down in my squad car. You see, a man of my stature doesn’t do much running. I even get kind of winded when driving fast so I am really good and knowing the shortest route between two points in this town. I am also really good and timing myself coming around a corner so that I will knock down a perpetrator with my car instead of having to chase him on foot. That way I can claim it was just and accident but I know what I am doing. One time a young punk snatched some lady’s purse. I actually saw it happen down the street as I was in my squad car. He ran right towards me. I looked the other way pretending I didn’t notice but people started knocking on my car and pointing at the kid. At this point the kid had seen me and changed directions down an alley. I took off after him. The Doritos I was eating spilled all over me. I wish I could say I stopped eating them during the chase but I didn’t. I came around the other side of the ally in time to see the kid climb a fence. I quickly backed out using only mirrors as I don’t/can’t turn around in my seat. I cut around the block and behind a 7-11. The kid landed on my car as he was coming over the other fence. He was stunned but only for a second. He dropped the purse and ran thinking I wouldn’t give chase which was a good bet but this day was different. I didn’t want to let this one go. Rounding the corner he I saw him jump onto a motorcycle. Some kind of Jap bike. He headed straight for the highway. I disengaged and headed east knowing that the highway simply arched around downtown and he wasn’t going to dare get off at the downtown exits. I crossed town with lights flashing and got on exit 14. I could see him as I headed up the ramp. I keep my spike strip in the passenger seat so I opened my window and hit a quick turn so the force of the turn would allow me to throw them out the window instead of getting out of the car. He hit them going well over 90mpg and that lucky son of a bitch crashed and rolled right into the lake. I threw a flare out the window so other drivers could see the strip and drove down to the lake. “Help! I can’t swim!” he shouted as he struggled to stay afloat. Dammit. What am I going to do? Maybe I could act like I don’t see him. I can’t believe I think like that. Let a man die instead of get out of a car. Jesus! Plus there were people on the bridge shouting at me to help him. I rocked out of the car and got my rope from the trunk. I threw it out into the water and tied the other end around my waist. Once he had the rope I began to pull him in. However, due to the Doritos grease on my hands and general lack of physical ability I found myself fatiguing fast. My solution was to just start spinning and act like a human cord reel. Sadly this worked great and soon he was on shore. He gasped for breath on the shore but recovered quickly. I on the other hand did not recover quickly and was gasping for breath as I had wrapped myself up with rope. He walked over as I yelled at him to stay where he was but both of my arms were clearly pinned. I tried to get my fat, greasy fingers around my gun but instead just pulled it out enough to finger the trigger and shot myself in the foot. This wasn’t the first time. I fell to the ground and flopped around like an out of shape walrus. He looked like he was going to make a run for it or steal my car. I couldn’t tell which. I looked him right in the eye.

“Kid. Don’t do this. Don’t throw this away. This is the precipice where a life filled with pain can only get worse or you can choose a second chance. A chance for change.” I saw his eyes start to water. I saw a young man without guidance, without discipline and who was for the first time hearing the words he had been waiting to hear. What he didn’t know was that I was referring to myself. I meant didn’t want him to steal my car and get me fired throwing my job away. But he didn’t know that as he helped me out of the rope and surrendered. He cried in the backseat of my car as I tried my best to think of a story of how the arrest went down. It turns out someone on the bridge had a video camera so I wouldn’t have to. Once again I was on the news flopping around all fat and sweaty in a knot of my own doing. There was no audio on the video but you could see me talking to the kid and he would for years tell the story of how I changed his life. I became a hero of non-violence. The headline read “Bumbling blob cop ties himself up to arrest street tough with just words.” I was the symbol in town of what a cop should be. This was when Rodney king was still fresh in everyone’s mind. I was invited to speak at schools and give seminars on how we can influence the teens of our community. I turned them all down of course as I wasn’t looking to get off my couch any more than I already do. I thought about how Jenny might see me and I could use her as motivation but as it turns out that really wasn’t motivating. Instead I rewarded myself with a cake. Actually telling myself “I deserve this”. I fail as a cop, get an arrest due to a misunderstanding and have the balls to convince myself I deserve a treat? Wow Frank. You are truly a piece of shit.

Sgt. Frank Molleni
June, 1994

It was a cold January night, but all the nights are cold in Howard, Wisconsin. It was a lonely night too, but all the nights are lonely for me ever since Jenny got sick of my shit. Maybe I wasn’t the best guy. Sure I have my flaws but I tried. Well, that’s not true. I tried to make it seem like I tried. I think that would be more accurate. Some women…they just can’t take “No” for an answer. “No we aren’t going to vacation near the beach.” “No, I I don’t want to meet your friends for dinner.” “No, I didn’t not screw your sister.”

I was working a night shift, and I was the only officer on patrol. I was hiding in the back of Merkle’s Supermarket and drinking piss warm coffee, trying not to mix it with the juiced up wad of Copenhagen that I had horseshoed around my lower lip. The coffee was warm enough where I couldn’t feel it as it dribbles down my chin catching in the wiry labyrinth of by beard, leaving that stale coffee smell that was always on my dad’s breath. I’ll never forget that smell. Or the look in his eyes as he bled out on the bakery floor. “Time to make the donuts!”, he’d always say…but it’s hard to make the donuts when a punk comes in at 4:00 am and slashes your father’s guts to ribbons in front of you for seven dollars in the tip jar. But he still said it. Literally as he bled out, he pulled me close and instead of telling me he was proud of me or that he knew I had fingered my sister he just whispered “Time to make the donuts:”

When Sally’s voice crackles over the dispatch and said that there was possible burglary in progress at Merkle’s it snaps me out of my reminiscing. I get the same feeling in the pit of my stomach as that day in the bakery. I slid the transmission of that hunk of shit Caprice into drive and slowly glide to the front of the building, I didn’t want that v-8 rumbling away and giving anyone the drop on me but I was way too lazy to simply get out and walk around the building. I am a big man. A real big man. I like to think I am the type of man that looks like he can take care of himself. But I can’t. I mean really. After Jenny left it was that much more apparent. I don’t even know how to work the dishwasher. Ok, I do but I just don’t do it. Bending over to unload that fucker is something a guy my size doesn’t do. I can’t even see my own dick.

I cut the engine and let it roll a little in neutral until it can’t go any further saving a few more steps. I got out and quietly pushed the door shut with a slight click, and pulled out my Mag-lite flashlight. That bastard was a foot long and weighed as much as lead pipe. It ended fights almost as fast as the six shot Colt revolver on my hip. Right away I could see a hole in the glass at the front of the building. Not too big, looked like someone punched it out with a rock or a hammer and slipped in. My big ass would probably slip and cut my neck trying to get into that hole. That’s what I tell myself so I don’t have to realize how far I am from fitting in it. I checked the glass door and it pulled right open, someone unlocked it after they got in through the window. I slipped into the building, but it was hard to see. There’s light coming in through the windows at front of the store, but the rest of store was pitch black. I heard a muffled voice coming from the back of the store in aisle three. I popped the snap on my holster and smiled, it reminds me of undoing the clasp on Jenny’s bra. I always took it off one handed, and she always looked at me and I would see her strain slightly as her giant floppy tits plopped out. I was starting to rub where I guessed my dick would be when WHAM! I hit the ground seeing stars.

I try to roll to my feet, but the young tough with a hammer swings again. His aim is off though and he hits me in the neck. Hurts like a mother fucker, but I’m still in the fight. I reach down for the .357 magnum I feel it and I tighten my fist. Too tight. It goes off and the bullet grazes my foot feeling like thousand fire ants. This surprised my assailant and I see I have an opening. It isn’t the first time I have shot myself in the foot so I am not that thrown off. I think about my boot knife. There is a reason I put it in my boot before I put them on, because I am not reaching all the way down there. I catch a glimpse of a Snickers near the checkout aisle and I think about how I want to eat it if I live through this. What the fuck is wrong with me? I carefully grab my gun again and pull it out. The crack head is on me before I can cock the hammer. We fight for the gun. He struggles on top of me. He has trouble as my beard keeps getting in his face. He is forced to keep his head up and out of my beard that smells like God knows what. He tries to use his weight to pull the gun to the side but that gives me the momentum I need to roll over on top of him. Now it’s a waiting game. He’s already dead, but doesn’t know it yet. I just lay there and after a while he stops struggling. I stay for an extra few minutes to make sure he is out. I holster my gun and it accidently goes off again but luckily doesn’t hit me. I really should be more surprised when that happens. I climb to my feet knocking over 2 displays and a cash register in the 10 minute process. It would have been only 5 but I stayed on the ground to eat a snickers. I very slowly and carefully take my gun out and put a bullet in his chest. Really can’t bring myself to admit to the boys I layed on him to death.

I limp outside to use the radio in my car, we didn’t have any of those portable radio’s yet. I am still breathing hard but partly because I won’t stop eating the chips I grabbed on the way out. I feel sick. Not because of the situation, but because I swallowed that fat horseshoe of Cope. I looked into the passenger side of my glass and could hardly recognize myself. Then I realize it is because I have to stand so far away from the car because of my gut. God, I really need to do something about myself. I know what will happen. I will be disgusted with myself and use my foot injury as an excuse to put off exercise. I will use Jenny leaving me as an excuse to eat. I don’t know how I do my job. I stumble into success and lie my way out of situations. Can’t believe I was surprised when Jenny said she was leaving. I let a good woman go because I am a lazy fuck. The only woman who loved me. I just killed a man and I am still thinking of my failed relationship. I just killed a man and I am already trying to think of how to get out of doing the paper work so I can grab a pizza on the way home. A long, slow fart escapes and I snap out of it. I still have my gun in my hand and I go to holster it. It goes off and I lose another toe. Fuck me.

Sgt. Frank Molleni
January, 1982

Submitted by J.S

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