Life Stories/Rants

On a cool night, a breeze sent a series of chills up and down my spine. My body impulsively shivered to warm my body up, and I tried to suppress the shakes to prevent myself from looking like a wimp and a fool to my “friends”. Ironically, I was seen as a fool for another reason.

I stumbled up from my seat by the window and paid the man behind the counter.

“That it, John?” he asked.

“I’m good fer the rest. You know I am,” I said.

“Sure,” he said, “and ‘this year is our year’. Can I count on seeing yer tomorrow?”

“I don’t plan to come back. Although, I never plan to,” I said.

“Good fer me, eh John?” he joked.

“Shut yer trap or I’ll shut it fer yeh,” I said.

“Whatever yeh say, John. Want me to call up a cab fer yeh?” he asked.

“What, yeh don’t think I can drive? I’ll manage,” I said.

I cautiously grabbed the counter and chairs as I made my way for the door. I seemed to be unable to keep my balance, but I would manage; I always manage.

I practically had to throw myself through the door to get out as my body was not very cooperative with my brain. Oh well, at least I left on my own free will, not on that of the big goons that waited in the bar for men like me.

I fumbled around in my pockets for a set of keys and finally found them. I pressed the keys into the lock on the side of the door, but they didn’t seem to quite fit. I had to shift the keys several times before I located the correct key and got in my old, beat-up 280 Z. I put the keys in the ignition and turned, the car sputtering to life. Once I was on the road, I could tell that something was wrong.

“Something is always wrong, John,” I said.

I slowly swerved down the roads to get to my house. Is it a house? Maybe it’s an apartment. No, isn’t it a trailer? Yes, that’s what it is, a trailer.

I looked in the rearview mirrors, something irregular for me to do on my nighttime drives. It took my drugged brain a moment to catch onto what was happening.

“John,” it said, “you’re being followed. See those red and blue lights flashing behind you? Pull over John. What are you doing? Why aren’t you pulling over, John?”

Oh my God, have I gone insane? Why won’t I friggen pull over? John, turn the wheel. Turn the wheel, John.

“Turn the wheel, you idiot,” I said.

I pressed the brakes hard and swerved the wheel violently to the right, my rusted Z careening as I made the spontaneous turn. I felt the transfer of the rubber of my wheels go from asphalt to gravel, and from the bumpy gravel to pure earth. I turned the wheel in the opposite direction and completely lost whatever control of the car I had had, just as I lost control of my life. I instinctively let go of the wheel, I mistake I knew from that moment. The car luckily righted itself, but it was facing the highway with the rear bumper literally scraping the dirt below. I started to calm myself down just as my heart jumped at the sight of a little man in black, his face obscured because of the flashlight he held in front of my face. I actually thought that he had blinded me.

“Do you mind?” I said. Strike number one.

“You alright sir?” he said. He still did not move the light from my face. I had to squint my eyes when I answered.

“Of course I’m not ‘alright’. What kind of dumb—question is that?” I said. Strike two.

“Calm down, ‘buddy’. License and registration [I handed them over]. Alright, Mr…. uh, Smith, would you mind getting out of your, er, vehicle?” he said.

“Yes, actually, I do mind. And, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get home. So if you’d please…,” I said. I started to roll up the window. And that was strike three.

“Alright, get out of the car. C’mon, out,” he said.

I reluctantly rose from the seat of my Datsun and slammed the door forcefully behind me. It made the back of the car quiver for a moment, and then it balanced itself again.

“Put your hands behind your head,” he said.

I decided that I was already in enough trouble and that I had better not make it any worse than it already was. I angrily obliged.

“Were you drinking at all tonight, sir. You know, at a bar, a family party, anything along those lines?” he asked.

“Yeah, a little I guess. One, maybe two, glasses,” I said.

“I’m gonna have to have you do a breathalyzer for me,” he said.

“Fine,” I said.

After the “deed was done”, the cop went back to his car to radio in about his “catch-of-the-day”. When he had finished, he approached me and handed back my license along with some papers.

“Here is your ticket and the date of your hearing. It’s on the thirteenth. I’m also gonna have to drive you home, we’ll have a truck bring your ‘car’ home as soon as we can,” he said.

He brought me to his squad car and opened up the door to the backseat. That was a place that I had never been without handcuffs, and smiled at the idea that there’s a “first for everything”. We drove home in silence, his radio only occasionally breaking it. Finally, I gave him directions on where I live.

“Take this left. Okay, now turn right. See that house? Two down from it is me,” I said.

When we arrived, I got out of the car and shut the door behind me.

“Stay here tonight, Mr. Smith. We’ll see you on the thirteenth,” he said.

I didn’t even wait to see that man off, I just sulked as I walked back to my trailer. Once inside, I went straight to my bedroom. There, I instantly feel asleep.

I awoke the next morning to realize that I was still wearing the clothes that I had worn the previous night. I slowly rubbed my eyes so I could see better, and looked up even more slowly.



The cops came on the fourteenth to find out why I had not returned their calls or shown up at the hearing. They walked around my small trailer and searched first my bedroom. There, they found me dead. In front of my body, on the wall, they discovered a plaque with all the medals I had received for my service in the war: a Purple Heart, a medal showing how I was a captain, and a whole series of different medals, even a Silver Star. The men shook their heads at the sight and solemnly walked out. It was reported that one of the officers, the one that had given me the ticket, had said something rather influential to another officer. It would be famous for the week and used in many protests to come.

“He fought to save us,” he said, “and yet, we couldn’t save him.”