The investigators’ office at the precinct was just a large room with about a dozen desks crammed in it. It was like an antique store…with too much stuff on display. Piles of paper, lockers, computer cables…to the untrained eye, it was chaos. The place was a humming machine, a disaster in suspended animation. Suspects, witnesses, and other persons of interest sat in chairs near a few desks, talking with plainclothes police personnel. The constant background cacophony and the smell of body odor didn’t help me concentrate…neither did the fact that so many people in the room overloaded the air conditioner’s ability to cool the place. It had to be 85 degrees in there.
My desk was disheveled with papers and folders. A small picture of my son in a frame saying, “#1 Dad” sat next to my brass nameplate. On the other side of my desk, a dummy grenade said, “Take a Number”…with another #1, dangling from the pin.
A man dressed in a dark sweatshirt walked to my desk and handed me a file.
“This is the only copy there is. Don’t lose it.” He said, scanning his eyes from side to side.
“I won’t, Mr…”
“Mr. None of your business. Just, keep that safe. It should be all you need to convict that bastard.”
He pointed at the file now in my hands.
“I appreciate you coming forward with this. Internal affairs will probably want to see too. I dislike corruption just as much as you do. What do I tell…”
The man turned and walked out, quickly vanishing amongst the swarm of sweaty bodies. I sat the file on top of the others on my desk and turned to my computer.
I remember that crystal clear. I know I sat it there. What happened next can only be described as…well…I’ll let you decide. Just know, that I am NOT crazy. I know I placed that file there.
I scanned my emails, catching up on a few things. No more than five minutes had elapsed, when there was a subtle change in the background noise of the room. Everyone, including myself, seemed to instantly notice.
“Sir, SIR. You cannot—SIR!!”
At that very moment, a man, whom I shall call Mr. X, burst into the room like a party popper. He had a long mustache and beard, which could hardly disguise his beaming and elated smile. His body seemed to shimmer in the yellow light filtering through the windows. I bolted out of my chair, still holding my pop can, but was too much astonished to move any more. Two officers chased him into the room, as he waived his arms wildly in every direction and whooped and hollered as he did.
Sergeant Blaise next to me spewed his coffee all over his desk and nearly fell over backward. I couldn’t even blink, much less scoop my mouth up off the floor.
“Stop him!” Someone shouted.
He approached my desk at a gallop…as naked as the day he was born, not a stitch of clothing on him. Hank jumped up and tackled him, but Mr. X slipped right out of his grip. He wore nothing but a pair of Nikes, a smile, and…deep exhilaration. Hank crashed into a desk, sending papers everywhere in a cloud.
Mr. X turned towards me and I panicked.
I put my hands out and snatched his arm, but it slipped right out…leaving a greasy residue on my palms. He turned and rounded Sgt. Blaise’s desk, overturning a file cabinet and the water cooler in one motion. Now, Mr. X looked like he was showing off. His manhood swung with the same apparent joy as the joy that was slung across his face. I was still momentarily shocked, my eyes unblinking…my hands slippery with slime. Could this liberation of body cause such mirth? Perhaps he was a little nuts. I didn’t have time to think about it, as he turned back towards me.
Cops were diving and slipping everywhere. One would grab him, nearly bring him to the floor, only to lose him a moment later. They’d fall onto desks and knock over lamps and chairs, merely adding to the chaos. As I turned towards the man to grab him, I saw Jenkins pointing his taser at me.
He shouted something, I guess. All I know is that my entire body seized. I crushed the pop can in my hand and I shriveled up like a raisin. I thought my eyeballs would jump out of their sockets when my chin found the cold tile floor. I’m told it made a reverberating thwack.
“GGGjdhdhdhddSSSSS @#$ FFFFFFF!!!”
I convulsed. I retched. I felt all the death pangs of a cockroach, after being sprayed with poison. I tried to scream, but only stuttered. Somebody tripped over me and spilled lava-hot coffee on my crotch…or maybe, I wet myself. I’m not sure which.
When Hank let go of the trigger and I was allowed to resume breathing, I heard screams and shouts. The smell of burnt skin and hair filled my nostrils. I rolled over to see that three guys had brought him to the ground. I tried to get up, but was incapable of harnessing any of my strength. The taser had leeched it all away. Under the legs of my desk, I saw the man wriggle his way out of their hold like a worm, while the officers struggled to even slow him down.
Again, he made a circuit of the room, overturning chairs, flinging stacks of paper, and gyrating his manhood…his beef tips, his shame as he did so. Sgt. Blaise stood in front of the exit and dared the man to attempt an escape. Mr. X lowered his head like an angry bull, stampeded towards the door, and dove to the floor at Sgt. Blaise’s feet. He slid like a penguin across the Antarctic ice…right between Blaise’s legs. He tried to stop him, but only succeeded in giving the man a sensual rub down as he slithered past like a torpedo.
I thought about pursuing him, but couldn’t stop looking at Blaise. He was holding out his hands and looking upon them with horror, as he’d just done something terrible with them…perhaps he had. Several officers went to look for the man…he was nowhere to be found.
“What the–HMPHLLLLLGGGGH…” I never finished that sentence. I chose, instead, to vomit into the paper shredder.
Hank tried to get up, but he was slimed. His entire front was smeared with goo. Mr. X’s grease and funk was pasted everywhere. Blood and puke dripped from my face as I retched with laughter.
“I’m…I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to– “
“It’s ok, Jenkins. I know you didn’t mean to.”
Jenkins was looking at his taser with his eyes and mouth agape.
There was shattered glass and paper all over the room. Most of it was now coated with water, coffee, and…possibly urine. I sat at my desk a moment later, trying to decide what I should clean up first…having just purged my body out of nearly every orifice.
The lieutenant barged into the room with a hysterical look. “What the HELL was that? Where is the suspect now?”
We all looked from face to face. Blaise shrugged. The lieutenant threw his hands in the air and stormed out.
I got up and announced. “Sgt. Blaise, I’m going home to shower. I probably won’t be back until tomorrow. Can you—“
I reached for the file I’d received only minutes earlier, so I could give it to him for safe keeping…but it was gone. My desk was the only one not wrecked…and the file was undoubtedly absent.
By: Josh Hutchins