Tuesday, November 29, 2011

A Man, A Musket, And A Murder vol. 2

Pull his pants down and drive a mason drill up his ass, winding his guts up like so much spaghetti on a fat kid's fork.  That's what Vic Musket was planning on doing to whoever carved up that poor hooker and set him up.  Vic's eyes stung from the rising cigarette smoke, but he didn't even blink.  His eyes only broke from the road to stare up at the roof of the car as he pulled heavily from his leather-wrapped flask.  Some men think drinking and driving is dangerous.  To detective Vic Musket those men were cowards.

He was barreling down the highway at a speed he didn't care to keep track of.  He was having enough trouble staying in his lane as it was, closing one eye from time to time to reduce his lane options by half.  Vic didn't have the time to buy a car the normal way, or even to have his license renewed, so he bought the '97 Toyota sight unseen from a pimp named Swisha.  He was assured the beat up vehicle would make the trip to Texas just fine, but the only people who trust pimps are hoes, and Vic hadn't turned a trick in years.  

Then he saw it.  Red and blue lights in the rear view mirror.  Vic was hoping his week old body odor could cover up the whiskey, but he was now kicking himself for not shaking down the car before hitting the road.  There was no telling what kind of depraved rubbish was long forgotten in this car.  He pulled over, wishing the police car would continue past without incident.  No such luck.

The cop car pulled onto the shoulder behind him and waited for what seemed like an eternity.  A grossly overweight white cop stepped out of his cruiser, with the relieved shocks lifting the car back up to it's unburdened height.  

"Roll down the window" The cop asked politely.  "I can't.  This car is a piece of shit" Vic said as he opened the door.  He caught sight of the policeman's hand as it crept towards his gun holster.

"Where you headed in such a hurry, sir?"
"Texas.  How close am I?"  Vic asked sincerely.
"Shit, son.  This is Alabama!  You look like you got lost, boy!"  The cop leaned in and quickly reeled back in disgust.  "Good God, man.  You smell like a stray dog.  Step out of the car and we can talk in the fresh air."

Vic complied.  He knew better than to cause trouble while staggering drunk on the side of an unfamiliar highway.

"I'm just trying to make it to my brother's funeral.  I heard he died yesterday and I have been driving ever since.  Maybe I lost track of my speed back there..."  Vic lied through his teeth as the cop peered into the back seat of his newly acquired vehicle.

Suddenly the cop drew his weapon and stepped back.  "Get on the ground!  You are under arrest!"

*So much for talking my way out of this* Vic thought as he quickly dropped face down on the pavement.  Hopefully whatever the cop saw in the backseat could be easily explained...

To be continued...

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