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