The police siren grows even louder and within moments we can
see the car coming down the street. Chris is laying face down on the sidewalk;
his ass is still in the air as the police car screeches to a halt in front of
the house. George steps back onto the front steps crossing his arms.
The police turn off the siren but not the lights. The lights
bathe over George and Chris and make them appear to flicker. A minute passes as
the police car sits there with it’s light’s flashing. I can see two policemen
reflected in the glass of the windshield, as they remain sitting in the front
seat.
Chris is barely awake and moaning once again. Bill and I
stand slightly back in the vestibule, just out of sight of the police. George still
stands at the top of the stairs; his arms still crossed as he slowly begins
shaking his head from side to side. It looks as if George is saying “No, no,
no,” in slow motion.
Chris is now moaning louder and begins to rock himself back
and forth. His body teeters and then falls on its side. He kicks his legs as if
he is running.
Chris looking like a beaten dog begins to piss himself. “Oh
for Christ Sakes!” Bill hisses to me. “What a goddamned drama queen!”
I don’t move. It’s too late to stop this, to take this back
and to make it stop. My heart begins to break as I realize that this is
something that I alone have caused. It was a simple ingenious plan that got out
of hand fast.
The passenger side of the police car flies open and a rather
large, well fed cop uses the doorframe to help him get out. After wiggling and
squeezing his body out of the car, he stands there red faced and breathing
hard. The driver stays inside the car.
“Afternoon Gentlemen,” the fat cop announces then giggles as
if reconsidering his “gentlemen” statement. The cop takes three steps forward. “What’s
going on?” The question is asked to no one in particular.
Chris spits out large amounts of blood from his mouth. The
cop looks at him, makes an “Ugh,” sound before looking up to George. “Does he
need an ambulance?”
“Oh no,” he’s fine responds George. Snot bubbles out of
Chris’ nose and mixes with the blood.
Loudly sighing, the cop walks back to the car, leans in and
grabs a pair of rubber gloves. The cop’s head pops up and looks at George “Does
he have AIDS?” the cop asks. “Because if he does, then we have to suit up.”
George shakes his head “yes.”
“Fuck me,” the cop snaps back at George. “Do all of you have
AIDS?” the cop asks.
Bill grabs my arm. “What the fuck?” “He’s not allowed to ask
that!”
“No, “ George responds with a sigh.
To be continued…
Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life/Down the Rabbit Hole". It cannot be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.
Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life/Down the Rabbit Hole". It cannot be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.
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