Franklin , Tennessee - Tom and Jerry were enjoying a beer in the parking lot , at the local Bar-B-Q across from the new Franklin Police Building and Crib
Tom : I've been thinking of writing a book about Franklin police.
Jerry : Hell, I should write this book. I’ve got tons of stories.
Tom : I know Jerry , I know. Butt anyway , here's a taste from my book , featuring "Mark" , a former Franklin Police officer and a Hell of a nice guy to drink beer with.
Mark (of course it's not the real name of my good friend) used to be a Franklin Police officer during the Seventies and Eighties. Divorced, he now spends his retirement doing security work, chasing teenage pussy and playing with his grandchildren.
While eating and drinking - there's another thunder storm kicking up outside
Why don’t you? I ask , looking over some rough notes
You should've seen those police reports I wrote. They looked as though they were written with a Fucking crayon.
I laughed and sipped my beer.
Nah, Mark says, dismissively waving the cigar smoke away from his face. I can’t be a writer. I’m too much of a linear thinker.
Good quality for a police officer to have, I'd say.
Maybe. But I could never write a book. I hated doing reports in school. Hated it I tell ya
But you’ve got some good stories.
When I was a police officer , Mark said , My department was just like The Choirboys. Only worse. It’s a Damn Fucking miracle we didn't kill anyone or each other
What kind of Shit did you guys get into? I asked , activating the tape recorder on the table
O-Man. There was this one time we were being stupid on the town square , we were drunk and getting blow jobs from a bunch of police groupie assed bimbos.
While on duty?
Of course while on duty, Mark giggles. We didn't bother Fucking anyone unless we was being paid for it. The entire night shift was Fucking around over there. We got so drunk one night we even threw our own beer bottles onto the street and started shooting at them to celebrate having an orgasm
Sweet Jesus.
Yeeaaaaaaaaah , yawn , we even shot at his picture too. Heh Heh Heh
There used to be a Fucking hardware store on the other side of the square. If one ricocheted a bullet juuuuust right . . . . Damn! You guys were lucky.
Now I look back on that and go Why did we do such stupid assed Fucking stuff? It amazes me I was like that once.
But you grew up, I'd say.
Had to, Mark replies.
Did guys cop a squat a lot when you were on the job? I ask, referring to the practice of police catching a few winks in their patrol cars.
Back in my day , Mark said. If you went down by the river bridge at 96 , you would catch five guys or more from other departments taking naps.
It was crazy nuts , I tell you , Mark says. One time I rolled up on one of my guys and walked over to see how he was doing. Damn if he was'nt getting a hummer from some butt ugly chick. I was like Woops sorrie 'bout that
Some girls just love a man in uniform
But my favorite police story, Mark says. Was when I found an officer doing lines of coke in his patrol car – in the middle of a rain storm. Now that’s the Fucking Franklin Police definition for irony.
Yeah , that it is.
But those days are way long gone now , Mark says.
They will all be getting GPS in their cars soon and now that Warner guy will know where everybody is at all times
Yeah, Mark says. Today police officers are much more watched over. But they still pull a lot of Fucking Shit anyway
No doubt , I’m sure. But , why watch them more?
You really are a dumb ass are'nt you?
It's not on purpose.
I know , but anyway , it's so the supervisor has an idea of how much dues are owed.
It's what?
Yeah man , dues. The more Shit an officer pulls , the more dues are owed 'n payed. It's the law-a-way version of a Pyramid scheme. Look , the Franklin Police Chief is way past retirement age or have'nt you noticed? Why don't you think he takes it? Do you think he needs the money? No , he does'nt.
OK then , why doesn't he retire?
Because a hooked fish will not walk away from that kind of money. That's why. I mean , that much money alone is crazily addictive
Mark polishes off his beer and signals the buxom young waitress prancing around in a miniskirt for a refill.
Wanna another? he asks.
I’m good with what I have , while thinking and looking on , "Only in Franklin"
There was this one time I remember, Mark says, continuing his reminiscing , I had just gotten on the job. We got a call about a burglary in progress , right? Fucking idiot’s on the roof with his loot. The old timers I’m with tells this guy to get off the roof or they’ll shoot him.
So what did they do?
They shot at him, Mark says. BANG! BANG! BANG! That guy jumped on to a telephone poll and shimmied town like he was "The Apes of Tarzan".
Did they hit him
No.
So they shot past him.
Mark gives me a baleful stare. No. They really shot at him. They just missed is all.
Lucky for the burglar.
Yeah, well, he did get to do a good stretch as I recall.
Was it The Banana Boy?
No , someone else.
The waitress returns with Mark’s beer, gives us a brilliant smile and walks away. We both watch him walk away.
"Cute ass , real cute." I swear , sometimes Mark's Fucking clucking chuckles were just too Damned funny.
So did you like being a police officer? I ask refocusing my attention.
Loved it , Mark says. I wasn’t always a model officer. But I did some good. Put some bad people away.
To putting bad people away I say and raise my glass.
Amen to that brother.
So , what was the thing you hated most about being a police officer ? I ask.
The Fucking corruption , Mark says. Some Franklin Police officers are just plain Fucking common assed criminals. A guy I knew on the force had a saying , If you can’t drink it , fuck it. And if you can’t fuck it , steal it.
O-ooo - Man.
Did plenty of the first two , Mark says. But stealing? Nah. That was just wrong.
But some guys did.
Oh for sure , Mark says. Most did! But I will tell you about that some other time. Bullet fodder for my next book.
Yeah , Mark says giggling. But I’ll have to make sure the statute of limitations has run out on that Shit before I tell you about it - Mr. Writer.
Fair enough , I say.
I gotta take a leak , Mark says, pushing his chair away from the table. Ya got anymore cigars left?
Sure do.
Back in a sec.
As I watch Mark walk to the bathroom I notice the slight bulge made by the small automatic pistol he’s got holstered underneath his un-tucked polo shirt. Even in retirement he remains armed. I also know Mark’s got a snub nosed revolver somewhere on him as well. Probably in an ankle holster. I only know this because Mark handed it to me one day , fully loaded , for my examination. If you ever think you’re gonna need a gun , Mark said. Bring two. It’s faster than reloading.
When Mark’s out of sight I think about his job and the life he’s had. Because of people like him there are some seriously evil beings who’ll never get a chance to hurt anyone ever again. Rapists, child molesters , serial killers , drug dealers ( some of these were former Franklin police officers whom Mark had helped put away while keeping them out of the news media) – the terrible shadows that coexist and commingle in the light of a beautiful world- all put away by men and women who wear a badge. But what is the price they pay? How do they maintain their moral bearing? Mark’s a good guy , but I can tell he’s been scarred by his experience with Franklin politicians and Jay Johnson. He had mostly managed to stay on the straight and narrow. But others he knew didn’t. There was a line I heard in a police movie that’s always resonated with me. This work gets ugly. And you get ugly with it. How people handle that ugliness fascinates me. One day I’ll write about it.
Part of me is also fascinated by this topic because I wanted to be a policeman when I was a little boy. When I was in the seventh grade I won an essay writing contest and became the honorary police chief of my town for a day. Two detectives wearing polyester suits and loud ties drove me around in their unmarked car , called me "sir" and even let me shoot their guns at the firing range. I never forgot that experience. I even came close to becoming a police officer but didn’t. I’m glad for that. But as I think about "Two-Six Guns" Mark , I wonder if I would have been a good one. I'd like to think so , I mean like I'm certainly not anything like Detective Black , meaning I have not stolen anything from the Red Cross and I don't go around lying to cover up my other lies I've lied about.
More flashing blasts of lightning sears the newly created , concrete skyline , causing the "King Crib" , to flare and fade like the upturned face of a child during a fireworks show at Halloween. When the thunder arrives , I take another sip of my beer , curious about a life I never had. Which certainly helps to explain why I'm not a liar or a thief , I muse to myself.
