chart.
“Couldn’t what, for fuck’s sake?”
The doctor shifted his gaze and looked directly into Roger’s
eyes. “Couldn’t reattach your penis or testicles.”
The room spun. The bed opened up and swallowed Roger’s body
whole. “No, that’s crap. You’re just fucking with me.”
The doctor smirked too. “Well, fucking isn’t something you
need to be concerned with anymore.” He snapped the paper back down and tossed
the chart onto a side table. It landed with a crack. “Whoever did the honours
of castrating you and excising your, shall we call it ‘manhood,’ didn’t leave
the offending pieces behind.”
“Must have kept ‘em as a souvenir,” the cop said.
“Personally, I’d have chosen a postcard.”
The doctor huffed a short laugh out his nose.
Roger shot his eyes between the smug, bastard cop and the
holier-than-thou doctor. “You think this is fucking funny? I’m mutilated.
Maimed. Did they catch the guy?” He jangled the metal bracelet against the bar.
“And why the fuck am I cuffed?”
“A, nobody is looking for the guy.” The cop shifted his feet
and fingered his trigger. “And B, your partner is dead. Bled out in your van of
horrors. We searched it. You know, for evidence in the attack of two clowns.
And guess what we found, you moron?”
Roger swallowed. He knew what they’d found.
“Yeah, your little Polaroid collection. Not the one we
already have, the one that got thrown out of court. No search warrant, what a
joke.” The cop’s face got redder as he spoke. “No, this is a new batch.
Fourteen shots. Two boys. You dumb fuck.” He came around the other side of the
bed. Bent down until his face was just inches from Roger’s. “We canvassed the
neighbourhood. Another little kid identified you as the clown who was
approaching him while he rode his bike. Whoever attacked you, well I’d say he
got there just in the nick of time.” He stood at attention. “Right, Doc?”
“Not my area. But I must agree.” He strode toward the door.
“He’s yours anytime you want to lock him up, officer.”
Roger glared at the cop. “Don’t you want my statement? A description
of the prick that, that …”
“Cut off your prick?” The cop threw his head back and
laughed. “Yeah, sure. Tell me all about it.”
Roger swallowed. “He wasn’t that tall, but he was big. Or at
least, his clothes were big. Had a hoodie, like he was wearing his dad’s
clothes. He was all in black. With giant pants. Like he was a clown too, but a
mafia clown or something.”
The cop nodded. “Is that it?”
“Aren’t you gonna write any of it down?”
“Got it all up here.” The cop tapped his temple.
“Sure. Sure you do.” Roger turned his head and looked out
the window. Like hell would he let this ass-wipe see him cry. “He hid behind
the hood, I never got a clear look at his face. He didn’t say anything. Not one
fucking word.” He squinted. “One other thing. And it’s weird.”
“What?”
Roger turned and looked at the cop. “He smelled nice.”
Tuesday, June 9 th
BILLIE SLAPPED THE SNOOZE button
for the fifth time. She opened one eye and glared at the red digits. Almost six
o’clock. Time to get out of bed already.
She sat up and stretched. An ache shot through her shoulder
and down her back. She arched her spine and turned side to side. A lovely crack
eased some tension. She rubbed at her eyes. They just didn’t want to open
fully. It was as if she hadn’t slept at all.
She reached for Peg Leg but he wasn’t in his usual place.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, grabbed the horse-head cane that
rested against the wall next to her headboard, and stood. She yawned, her mouth
so wide open that her jaw cracked too.
Coffee. That would fix her.
Her foot caught on something and she pitched forward,
flailed the cane in front of her and grasped the edge of the dresser. She
righted herself and inspected the floor, which should be spotless. She never
left
“Couldn’t what, for fuck’s sake?”
The doctor shifted his gaze and looked directly into Roger’s
eyes. “Couldn’t reattach your penis or testicles.”
The room spun. The bed opened up and swallowed Roger’s body
whole. “No, that’s crap. You’re just fucking with me.”
The doctor smirked too. “Well, fucking isn’t something you
need to be concerned with anymore.” He snapped the paper back down and tossed
the chart onto a side table. It landed with a crack. “Whoever did the honours
of castrating you and excising your, shall we call it ‘manhood,’ didn’t leave
the offending pieces behind.”
“Must have kept ‘em as a souvenir,” the cop said.
“Personally, I’d have chosen a postcard.”
The doctor huffed a short laugh out his nose.
Roger shot his eyes between the smug, bastard cop and the
holier-than-thou doctor. “You think this is fucking funny? I’m mutilated.
Maimed. Did they catch the guy?” He jangled the metal bracelet against the bar.
“And why the fuck am I cuffed?”
“A, nobody is looking for the guy.” The cop shifted his feet
and fingered his trigger. “And B, your partner is dead. Bled out in your van of
horrors. We searched it. You know, for evidence in the attack of two clowns.
And guess what we found, you moron?”
Roger swallowed. He knew what they’d found.
“Yeah, your little Polaroid collection. Not the one we
already have, the one that got thrown out of court. No search warrant, what a
joke.” The cop’s face got redder as he spoke. “No, this is a new batch.
Fourteen shots. Two boys. You dumb fuck.” He came around the other side of the
bed. Bent down until his face was just inches from Roger’s. “We canvassed the
neighbourhood. Another little kid identified you as the clown who was
approaching him while he rode his bike. Whoever attacked you, well I’d say he
got there just in the nick of time.” He stood at attention. “Right, Doc?”
“Not my area. But I must agree.” He strode toward the door.
“He’s yours anytime you want to lock him up, officer.”
Roger glared at the cop. “Don’t you want my statement? A description
of the prick that, that …”
“Cut off your prick?” The cop threw his head back and
laughed. “Yeah, sure. Tell me all about it.”
Roger swallowed. “He wasn’t that tall, but he was big. Or at
least, his clothes were big. Had a hoodie, like he was wearing his dad’s
clothes. He was all in black. With giant pants. Like he was a clown too, but a
mafia clown or something.”
The cop nodded. “Is that it?”
“Aren’t you gonna write any of it down?”
“Got it all up here.” The cop tapped his temple.
“Sure. Sure you do.” Roger turned his head and looked out
the window. Like hell would he let this ass-wipe see him cry. “He hid behind
the hood, I never got a clear look at his face. He didn’t say anything. Not one
fucking word.” He squinted. “One other thing. And it’s weird.”
“What?”
Roger turned and looked at the cop. “He smelled nice.”
Tuesday, June 9 th
BILLIE SLAPPED THE SNOOZE button
for the fifth time. She opened one eye and glared at the red digits. Almost six
o’clock. Time to get out of bed already.
She sat up and stretched. An ache shot through her shoulder
and down her back. She arched her spine and turned side to side. A lovely crack
eased some tension. She rubbed at her eyes. They just didn’t want to open
fully. It was as if she hadn’t slept at all.
She reached for Peg Leg but he wasn’t in his usual place.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, grabbed the horse-head cane that
rested against the wall next to her headboard, and stood. She yawned, her mouth
so wide open that her jaw cracked too.
Coffee. That would fix her.
Her foot caught on something and she pitched forward,
flailed the cane in front of her and grasped the edge of the dresser. She
righted herself and inspected the floor, which should be spotless. She never
left
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