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Spoiled Meat

by lrera 

Posted: 15 November 2006
Word Count: 647
Summary: A disgruntled loner needs to deal with the police in the dawn of an unfortunate morning.


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The train ripped through the countryside as the dawn crawled its way into my room. The Doppler sounds of coming and going, ricocheting off the walls. I mulled-over my life while my stomach burned from acids of discontent. My regret, halted, by the pounding on the door.
“It’s the police.”
Through the chained door I said,
“What’d ya want, it’s 6:00 am for Christ’s sake?”
“We want to talk to you about one of your employees. ”
I unlocked the door.

That’s how the day opened it’s arms. Bear hugging me into a stranglehold of impossible choices. Two uniforms were standing there, one sipping steaming coffee, the other with a notebook. The guy with the coffee looked surly and reeked of a foul mood. The other looked dry cleaned and pressed. Slick. A catalogue shot for crispy cop uniforms.
“ Steven, Steven Miller, you’re the owner of Mr. Taco, correct,” the crispy cop said.
“ Yeah, why?”
“ One of your employees is missing Mr. Miller…reported three days ago.”
“ Well I don’t keep tabs on them when they leave the place–it’s one of those privacy things, people’s rights and all that stuff.”
“ Someone from your restaurant said you gave her a ride on the day she was last seen. Is that correct, Mr. Miller?”
“ Yeah, I dropped her off downtown”
“ You can see why we’re interested Steve,” the surly cop said.
“ Can you tell us exactly where you went after you dropped her off?” the crispy cop said.
“ ‘I was here…like every night.”
“ Can someone account for your whereabouts?”

I opened the door just wide enough to let them in. I wanted them to suck-in their donut filled bellies. I led them to a back bedroom. The stench of urine and that old people smell hung in the air. The crispy cop gagged. I stopped at the foot of the bed; two sunken eyes stared back from nowhere, a skull encased in rice paper skin, translucent and gray.
“ This is my father–been this way for two years. Ya see the drip bags hanging there? Do ya see the diapers…excuse me–Depends? The dried baby food on his chin? Did I mention he can’t remember what a cat is? Well officers, this is my job. My night shift. Night, after miserable night.

I ripped back the sheet like a trickster pulls-out a tablecloth from under a table full of dishes. A double-amputee trying to heal isn’t pretty. Diabetes. Humor wasn’t the mood, but I chuckled in my mind. Here I was, standing with the ruins of what once was my father, and these two Jack Lord’s couldn’t grasp the last few minutes.

Clearing his throat the surly cop said,
“ Uh, can he vouch for you?”
My eyes rolled back and hit the ceiling.
“Dad? These two gentlemen–want ta know, if I was here last night?”
I thought of Jack Nicholson.

Up on their toes and craning their necks, they waited. They really expected an answer, a low guttural moan of a word, a crude carved-in-stone response that would get them away from this god-awful hellhole. Nothing.
“ Um…well Mr. Miller, if any information turns up on your missing employee… (the cop bowed his head to refer to his notes) Amanda–Amanda Dearfox…a Native American woman–something turns-up, we’ll let you know. In the mean time, stay in town, Steve!”

I walked them to the door without a word. The fisheye lens of the peephole turned the cop’s car into a cartoon limping into the street. I went to the kitchen to make coffee and toast.
I thought about last night. In my bedroom closet Amanda Dearfox waited. A rope bound her neck to her ankles. A Jolie sized-tongue, swollen between her parted lips. Her face, purplish the last time I checked. I knew she wouldn’t be able to have breakfast with me.






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Comments by other Members



choille at 09:20 on 18 November 2006  Report this post
Hi Lou,

“What’d ya want, it’s 6:00 am for Christ’s sake.[?]”

...Night, after miserable night.["]

a Native American woman–something turns-up,[I think you need to look at the punctuation here]

I found the part with the cops really vivid & the descriptions and thoughts of the MC work really well.

The ending I feel is a little predictable, but a very stong visual read. I loved the image of the cop car through the peep hole.
I also think the emphasis on 'Steve' said by the cops works really well.

What a nightmare of a bedroom.

All the best
Caroline





lrera at 13:48 on 18 November 2006  Report this post
Caroline,
Thanks for reading, the comments and catching the punctuation.

Enjoy the day...

Cheers,
Lou


Prospero at 02:57 on 19 November 2006  Report this post
Hi Lou

Apologies for not having commented before. This is powerful stuff with some wonderful imagery. The idea of the smell of the old man's decay masking the smell of the young woman's decay is subtly underplayed. This had all the feel of a Hitchcock screen-play with the horrified audience watching the bad guy seemingly get way with it. Excellent!

Best

Prosp

tiger_bright at 08:09 on 19 November 2006  Report this post
Hi Lou, I liked the strange almost wistful regret in that last line, at such shocking odds with everything that came before. Remind me never to eat at Mr Taco...

Tiger

Jumbo at 10:17 on 19 November 2006  Report this post
Lou

Great writing.

The descriptions of the old man in the bed and the girl in the wardrobe were brilliantly executed.

One point re the continuity of the piece - the girl went missing three days ago, but your MC asks his dad if he was here last night.

A very powerful final paragraph.

Regards

john

crowspark at 11:46 on 19 November 2006  Report this post
Brilliant Lou!

The way you played the discomfort of the officers was superb.
Great voice.
This should get published. Good luck with it.

Bill


lrera at 14:48 on 19 November 2006  Report this post
Thanks for all the comments from Bill, John, Tiger and Prosp.

John, thanks for the time issue conflict note...

Much appreciated!
Lou

tiger_bright at 14:56 on 19 November 2006  Report this post
Congrats on the win, Lou, and my apologies for the mix-up over your gender... I bet you thought the beard had nailed that, right?!

Tiger

lrera at 15:09 on 19 November 2006  Report this post
Tiger,
No apologies needed. I think the whole thing is rather funny, beside facial hair doesn't always confirm anything!

Lou

tiger_bright at 16:24 on 19 November 2006  Report this post
Thanks, Lou.

beside facial hair doesn't always confirm anything!

Quite right! If it did, I'd have been calling my nan 'Sir' all these years. Bless her whiskery old face...

Tiger

jdsharpe at 19:56 on 19 November 2006  Report this post
Hey Lou,

This is really great, a love some of the descriptions here.

Here's a couple I really liked.

The guy with the coffee looked surly and reeked of a foul mood.


The fisheye lens of the peephole turned the cop’s car into a cartoon limping into the street


James

lrera at 18:50 on 20 November 2006  Report this post
Thanks James...much appreciated!

Lou


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