A cop car named redemption

The handcuffs hurt like hell.

For some reason, I feel that pain again today. The irritating as hell one which is an itch and a pain and a cramp and a steel-toed boot kick right in the nuts of your ego, all rolled up into one.

I remember scowling at people staring in through the thoughtlessly un-tinted rear window. I remember laughing at them… let them to get their money’s worth, I suppose. Sitting solemn wouldn’t do the part justice, so I put on the show as I remembered it from the movies, the good guys always won in the end, but the bad ones looked cooler. So I was the bad guy, my one shot at infamy and I claimed it. They stared in and I sneered out and in their minds ran fear, straight through their hearts to their toes… I could tell by the way their eyes widened and their mouths snapped shut and the gulp travelled down their shapely Caucasian throats. The prettier the woman, the more she lies… the ugly ones only lie to themselves. I’m pretty, they say, 43 EE isn’t obese… fuck you, fat ho, flaunt what you got, not what you wish you had… you’re nice, be nice, don’t scowl, don’t bite.

Guys are worse. They don’t even care. They’re guts hang down to their knees but they can chug a beer in 3 seconds flat. How come fat guys never end up with fat girls? Or vice versa? Ever seen a couple that was fat all around? Why do pretty people lie? They don’t even fucking need to… maybe its cuz they’re just nice, or maybe its just cuz they’re not. Pretty people are only good for fucking, it’s the ugly ones that are worth keeping. The cool ones die the earliest. The cooler you are, the earlier you’ll die… just think how cool a still born kid is. We should be bigger fans of still born kids than Kurt Cobain… but alas, we aren’t… we mourn them instead. We’re fucking idiots. The sooner you die, the less you suffer. The less you suffer the less you hurt… we should envy them.

These handcuffs hurt like hell. I can’t sit back, and my fat ass gut won’t let me hunch over in comfort.

“They ain’t built for comfort.” Said the motherfucking redneck cop, chomping on his beef jerky and driving with the sirens blaring, cutting through traffic like he wrote the script. My heart would be in my mouth if it wasn’t already hiding somewhere underneath my balls in shame. Fucking Texans, they think they’re so cool with their southern drawl and blonde haired, blue eyed, sumptuous assed and mouth wateringly bossomed women. Kris was such a hottie, I wish I’d fucked her when I had the chance. Sodomy my ass, Kris’s ass was worth a few thousand years in hell. My ass hurts when I breathe in this position, this is a funny thing to discover, the ass can actually fall asleep. Wish I could shake it up, but this fucking pose barely allows me to breathe… wrists feels like they’re swelling up, it hurts to even groan… but this fucking cop won’t slow down, I hope he chokes on his god damned teriyaki Jerky and dies and ploughs head on into the school bus which goes up in a huge ball of fire, consuming every car in a 100 foot radius causing the greatest tragedy in the history of the city with me at the center of it all, laughing, sneering, pissing on the flames… playing the part.

She’s nuts, I thought, and turned away. I didn’t want to believe that she actually wanted to be a stripper… what self respecting Muslim woman with a family’s honor to protect would want to be a stripper? I said you can strip for me, she didn’t reply. Now she’s stripping for a new guy every second week, and I’m left flipping my limp dick around like a white flag going okay okay, you can strip all you want… bitch. Nothing hurts more than expectation. The more you trust someone the more you expect from them and the higher the chances of them spitting your faith in your face and then pissing on it to seal the deal. Trust no one, especially not your fucking fat ass nigger of a dealer. Mother fucker set me up. But how could he, he didn’t know I would disobey the edict of the red octagon. Fuck him. It hurts like a bitch and a mother fucker at the same damn time cuz now I’m not gonna be able to make bail on my own and I’m gonna have to call dad up and he’s gonna have to sell the car or something cuz my American education has already bled him dry and what the fuck am I gonna tell him? No dad, this isn’t for tuition, I graduated last year and only lied about it being a 5 year course, and I was driving too fast once and got a ticket that I never paid and got a warrant out for my arrest, and I was way too stoned on the way to work from the hood and missed a stop sign and viola… yeah that would end his miseries in a hurry.

Shame hurts like hell. Guilt hurts even more. But I sneered and I laughed and I acted all tough for my audience all the same, and man… what a show I put on. I wish she’d seen me then, maybe she’d have been proud of me… the stripper and her convict lover fucking in the back seat of a cop car while the world whizzed by, staring in on them in fear and in awe and in envy cuz we’re so cool, all naked and handcuffed, fucking like contortionists in a circus… Cirque du Soleil le pornographique… them Texans would love it… they like everything big… Churchill said he was afraid to pee in public cuz the labors taxed every big thing they saw… cocky bastard. How would he act in this situation?… he’d prolly light up a cigar.. Churchill was cool, but he became cool late in life… that’s why he lived as long as he did…. Actually I haven’t known too many lame old people, they’re generally cool in their own way… maybe every one is… but how do you put a cool spin on such a humiliating situation? You follow the bad guy’s lead… evil is cool. That’s the trouble with evil, its so fucking sexy… it turns you on, it makes you go all tingly inside… I guess that’s why she wanted to be a stripper. Or maybe she was just messed up in the head. I hope she got to be a stripper… she did strip for me and she was good, she could make so much money… she could probably be my sugar momma, that’s how much money her body could be worth… man oh man did I ever fuck up! So what if she wanted to strip? Why won’t this motherfucker slow down?

Then they shifted me to this other cop car at Gessner and Tanglewilde. And then they drove me to the jail house and took my picture. I always thought I was 5’10… I was always overly ambitious by an inch… damnit, today’s been a disappointing day…

This has been a disappointing life. Expectations hurt more than handcuffs. Expectations hurt like shackles, shackles hurt more than handcuffs, especially when you put them on yourself. But you get used to the pain. You get used to being fucked in the head. You get used to everything. I suppose, you get used to being dead too.