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Peaches the Stripper

This event took place in December of 2004.

Her name was Peaches. Well, not her real name. Peaches was her stripper name. I never asked the petite light skin black girl her real name.

Peaches was very pretty. She had coco skin. Curly hair that went to her shoulder and she was completely fucked up when she approached me. I'd like to say alcoholic fucked up but when she spoke to me I didn't smell a hint of it. I'm guessing Xanax pill popping fucked up.

I was at a Gentleman's Club. Peaches' was a stripper so I guess I don't blame her for being fucked up. If I had to sit on the dicks of men's laps all night I'd probably pop a few pills myself.

I wasn't at the X-rated club for pleasure though. Hell, I've only been to two adult clubs my whole life up until that time. And I'm here on business. The strip club was required by the city that I work for to hire an off duty police officer to work the front door. The officer had to make sure all laws were being adhered to.

It was a hard detail to get because of the high demand of officers that were willing to work it. The three hundred dollars a night had a lot to do with the demand, but I'm sure the naked women played a small role as well. At the time I had no idea about why Peaches approached me, a police officer in full uniform. But in the end, I wish she hadn't.

Before Peaches made her decision, I arrived to the club at the scheduled time of 9pm. I drove in on my Harley Davidson Road King police motorcycle. I was in the police motor unit at the time and assigned the police motorcycle in which I rode to all police functions.

Soon after I arrived, I took my usual position at the front door. I sat on a high wooden bar stool to the left of the register just by the second entrance that customers pass through after they paid their cover charge. I would stand when it got real busy and sat when it wasn't. The door girl who collected the money sat to the right of me. She had a better quality bar stool then the one I was using. It was padded vinyl with a back piece and arm rests to relax. Much more comfortable then the wood one I was using.

She sat behind the register and collected the cover charge and also checked identifications. The cover was 10 dollars for single men, but free entry for women and couples.

The club doesn't get busy until a little later in the night so I had some time to settle in and get prepared for the onslaught of patrons that were going to enter later in the night. From my past experience working this place it always did. I was dreading it too because that little room would get so hot with all the warm bodies standing inside of it.

I sat on my wood stool and happened to look to my left and saw a figure walking towards me. The club is dimly lit. The dim lighting not only gives the club a more intimate atmosphere but it also adds to the fantasy of the girls as it hides any flaw they may have.

The figured silhouette got closer to me. I realized it was a dancer. It wasn't uncommon for them to walk to the entrance and talk to the door girl. When the silhouette emerged to the better lit area where I am sitting I noticed her pink see through lingerie stood out against her perfectly skin toned body. The lingerie she was wearing was see through enough, but it exposed more skin then anything and it was enough to cover her unmentionables.

When she got to the front desk she didn't talk to the door girl. She began to talk to me.

"Do you have flowers...on your bed sheets?" she said to me slurring her words and giving the appearance she was half a sleep with her droopy eyes.

"What do you mean?" I asked begining to stand up from my stool.

My peripheral vision slightly peaking over Peaches head towards center stage where from my vantage point could see the latest girl dancing.

"Well", Peaches said as she stumbled onto my vacated stool," I see things ya know. I'm kinda psychic" she said in a loud tone due to the music filtering its way out to us.

I then look directly at her and gave her my full attention. "Excuse me",I said with a tone of sarcasm in my voice.

"I see things", she said adamantly, "You have an aura around you. I saw your aura from across the room. It compelled me to come to you. Your aura is telling me your in pain", she raised her voice as she spoke due to the music intertwining with the people inside the foyer.

I was leaning my body towards her trying to hear what she was trying to say. It was almost as if we were in a social atmosphere and I was trying to hit on her. As she talked, an over zealous DJ would scream on the microphone.

"NOW! COME ON GUYS! She's really working it for you! Come on, don't be cheap she's shaking that ass pay up!"

"So, do you have flowers or not on your bed sheets?" Peaches asked me again. This time with higher tones in her voice.

"I don't know!", I shout. "Why do you keep asking me this?!", I said laughing at her question.

"Your aura is giving me a sign that your in pain. Did someone recently die?" As she spoke she would close her eyes and reopen them.

"No", I said. "Everything is good here." I really didn't understand what she said so I gave her a generic answer.

"Lets go! Lets go! Come On Guys! Shout, scream make some noise! Let's go for the sexy Molina!", the DJ exclaims.

"I don't know I sense pain. I'm psychic." she told me with a straight face.

"What did you say?", I am starting to get annoyed,"Your what?"

"I'm psychic!" She shouts, "Is someone sick? Your aura is telling me your going to be in pain or something now or in the future." I look at her with disbelief on my face.

"Well, I don't know what to tell you. I feel fine and I don't know of anything. What's your name?" I shout over the crowd.

"Peaches. My name is Peaches and I see the future."

"Okay Peaches the stripper" I say."Right now everything is well. Have you been drinking? What are you on right now?"

"I'm on nothing", she stated kind of upset that I would think that.

"Sorry, but you just seem it. I don't mean to offend you", I said half heartedly.

Peaches smiles at me and said,"No. Not offended just want to make sure your okay. I didn't like the aura around you.

"Okay guys get ready for the Georgia peach. Coming to the stage now is Peaches!" The DJ announcing her name as if he was anticipating seeing her naked as well as everyone else in the club.

With that announcement Peaches smiles at me. She gets out of my chair, stumbles in her high heal pumps and slips away in the darkness of the strip club to find her way to center stage and her reality of life.

I watched her walk away as I stared into the darkness ignoring all the activity going on around me. I just thought about what she said the rest of the night. I worked my shift until 5am. Tired, I rode my Harley home. It was a long night. My ears were ringing badly.

"How do they deal with the loud DJ every night." I thought.

I stumbled to my front door like Peaches did earlier in her high heels, only I was in my work boots. I'd shower when I woke up. I went straight to bed after undressing out of my police uniform. It was early Sunday morning and I didn't want to sleep in long. It was football Sunday after all.

When I opened my eyes, I glanced at the clock that sits high on a shelf in our master bedroom. It was almost noon. I laid there for a second . I was too lazy to get up and venture out to start my day. The shades were down but the room was lit enough for me to notice the flowers on our bedsheets.

"Mimie!" I shout. "Mimie!" I yelled again.

Mimie hurried in the room " What is it? What's wrong?" she worriedly said.

"Where did these flower sheets come from?"

"My mom sent them months ago, why?"

"When did you put them on?" I asked.

"Last night" she said "What's going on?"

"Well Peaches the stripper said that I was gonna be in pain because of flower sheets." I said with concern.

"Peaches the stripper said what? Who the hell is peaches?" Mimie said with a sound of disgust in her voice.

"I didn't ask Peaches her real name. Shes the psychic stripper. Peaches is just her stage name. She said my aura concerns her and that I would be in great pain. She said she saw flower sheets on my bed" I said to Mimie as loud as if i was trying to talk over the DJ.

"Let me get this straight. Peaches the stripper said your gonna be in pain because of flowers on the sheets." Mimie said sarcastically.


"Chris, honey go back to sleep." Mimie said in a matter of fact tone "By the way it isn't noon that clock is wrong. You haven't fixed it yet. It's after one o'clock and your missing the Dolphin game."

"But Peaches the stripper Mimie, peaches", my voice crackling.

"I know Chris. Come on, football is on. Maybe the Dolphins are going to lose today and they will be your source of 'great pain'."

A few days later after meeting peaches, on December 23rd my dads mother, my grandmother died.

For years Mimie and I would talk about Peaches and laugh with amazement on her accuracy.

Mimie and I forever would call her, "Peaches the Stripper", a psychic, nice.

Foot Chase

Mimie loved to go on police rides with me. It was a fun adventure for her and I think she got an adrenaline rush out of some of the police actions as much as I do.

Usually, there's 2 kinds of police ride along guests. The first type is the ride along they call the "shit stirrer". When the "shit stirrer" rides every type of crime that could happen, usually does. When that occurs all the road officers say,"that shit stirrer can never ride again!"

Then there's the type of ride along that is in the sense the "cooler". The cooler ride along is like a good luck charm for the road and nothing happens. When they ride all the road officers say, "That cooler can ride anytime."

Mimie was a "shit stirrer". But she was the bosses wife and rode when she wanted. One Friday night Mimie did a ride along with me. And the "shit stirrer" rep was in full effect. We had a small break in the action so I drove over to a night club and met up with a couple off duty officers that were working the club. The off duty officer is paid by night club management, usually for lawsuit purposes, to keep the club goers in check. As a detail officer you work in full uniform and conduct yourself under the requirements of policies and procedures and state law. So when we arrive Mimie elected to stay in the car. I told her I won't be long.

I parked my marked police car in front of the club along with the 2 other cruisers already parked there. It's good to have the police cars in the open for high visibility purposes and safety. I left the cars engine running for Mimie so she could use the cars air conditioner and listen to music on the radio while she waited. The car was facing the front entrance of the club and her and I were always in sight of one and other. I met up with the other officers just outside the club. All three of us stood in usual cop position.

One officer stood with his arms crossed. Butt against the car door, feet crossed or open stance. Faced in the position to view the night clubs front doors in case the bouncers threw someone out. Another officer facing that cop who was leaning against the car. He stood with a wide stance. One hand would be resting on the handle of his gun the other hand hanging from his gun belt using his thumb as a hook attaching it to any object attached from his belt that feels comfortable for resting. And for me? I was facing the officer leaning on the car. I like to view whats going on in the opposite direction. My stance is wide. My left forearm is resting on the top of my gun handle. The rest of my forearm lying on top of the belt. My left hand is resting on the "pepper spray" holster. As for my right arm it's extended down. My right hands thumb and index finger wrapped around my radio holster. We are standing in a triangle.

After spending a little time there I decided it was time to leave. I turn towards my car and make eye contact with Mimie and smile. She smiled back as I walked towards the car. I open the drivers door and spun in the direction of the clubs door using my left hand to use the open door as leverage.

As I swung around the door I began to say to Mimie, " Heyyyy baby...." and that's when I heard a ruckus.

My body was partially bent over since I was standing on the curbed sidewalk. I was taller then the cars roof so the only way to see Mimie's face is if I was bent over. When I heard the shouting coming from the entrance I looked away quickly leaving my vision of Mimies smiling face a blur. I saw a body in midair coming from the entrance of the club.

His body hit the concrete sidewalk. I then saw 2-3 guys appear from the door being pushed back. As they cleared the doorway and into the outside air I saw members of the club security, who were wearing shirts that read SECURITY on them pushing back against the men. It looked like two sets of magnets pushing away from each other.

I peered through the open door and said, " Well, here we go. Be right back. Love ya." and with that I slammed the door and charged to the after party.

As I approached the sea of bodies I was planning on what to do. Too many people and too many hands to jump in. Where to begin? I then saw 2 men separate from the pack. I could see one of the two men was staff security. The guy the club security guard was tussling with threw him to the ground. The security guards body slammed into the concrete. He didn't move. Either he was hurt or just too tired to reengage.

So I focused on the patron that threw him down and yelled, "hey police officer! Move away from him!" He turned towards me and took a fighting posture.

I was real close to him. We locked our arms up. We both didn't budge. He tried to turn my body one way. I tried to turn his body another. You see the trick to fighting is having the cooler head. Here him an I are locked in a situation. It's more of a sumo fight then a boxing match at this point. The whole time in my mind I am thinking,"okay this ain't working. Try the leg sweep." You gotta have a cool head to think like that.

I then take my left leg and place it behind his right leg. I plant my left foot tight onto the ground utilizing all my weight. I then lean into him and drag my left foot along the ground pulling it into his right leg sweeping his leg from under him. He went right to the ground. As I begin to move towards him I felt something hit my head and right ear.

"OUCH! What the fuck?!" I shouted. As I grab my head with both hands to shield it from any other strikes.

I hear,"oh no you didn't!" The voice was familiar. It was Ralph one of the detail officers.

He had just witnessed one of the combatants use his belt as a weapon. The young wannabe bad ass had taken his belt off from his pants and he was swinging it like a lasso. Sounds relatively harmless until you look at the other end of the leather belt and see the belt buckle attached to the other end is fairly large in size. Maybe 6 inches tall and 6 inches wide. It weighed about 4-5 lbs.

While all this was going on Mimie also witnessed it from her front row seat of my patrol car. She would later say,"I thought the whole event was a dream. A nightmare."

Well, don't worry Mimie that's how I feel now about your death. Someone please wake me.

Just after Ralph shouted,"oh, no you didn't!" The guy ran off. Followed by Ralph then I followed.

I jumped over the lucky guy that I had just thrown to the ground. He wasn't my priority anymore and wouldn't be going to jail. I had another person of interest. I wanted "the guy" that used my head as a belt loop.

I stepped off the sidewalk into the clubs parking lot. Ralph and "the guy" have a 5 very large step lead. I really wasn't pushing it too hard. After all Ralph is a former track star who went to college on a track scholarship. Surely he'd catch him.

As this plays out Mimie can hear all the commotion through the police car dispatch radio.

We zig zag through the parked cars. I dig my feet into the cool asphalt. As I run in between the cars my feet kick used beer bottles and cans thrown to the ground by club goers. We start heading for the main road way.

"Come on Ralph. Get him." I think to myself as I huff and puff.

We run through the shrubs and just as I clear through them. I hear a loud thud followed by an,"Oh, shit! My ankle".

As I clear through the branches I see Ralph on the ground. As he stepped off the curb he twisted his ankle and crashed to the ground. "Go! Go!" he shouts. "Damn it! It's on me", the thought ran through my mind and i was in disbelief.

Thankfully I was hardly running earlier. Yea, right. I was on his trail. He wasn't far off from me. He was already tired and exerted a lot of steam and slowed up. We were zig zagging between cars again. Only this time we were in traffic. Mimie was still listening to the police radio with all the attention of Game 7 of the World Series.

He was within my grasp. So I reach out. The tips of my nails sliding off his sweaty skin. I almost had him. I push myself a little more and decided to dive into him. As my feet leave the ground I stretch out like superman only not as graceful as he does in the movies.

My left foot drags along the roadway. My right foot off the ground. I stretch my fingers out and let out an "oomph." I'm gonna get him. Almost there. This is what I been waiting for. He turns to the left suddenly. I sailed passed him and belly flop on the ground. My momentum taking me forward as my body slides across the rough roadway. My skin on my hands and forearms tear like if I just slid across a cheese grater.

As my body and on-coming traffic come to a screeching halt I see my guy fading into the darkness. I hung my head down. My legs bent back towards me suspended in the air held on by knee caps like a hinge. I'm on my stomach and I pound my fist on the ground. "fuuuuuuck" I shout. As I resigned to my fate that he was gonna get away I hear a loud noise. A horn blares.

I look up and from my ground vantage point I see a large truck in the far lane. He had seen some poor pedestrian in the roadway. In an attempted to not hit him with his truck he slammed on the vehicles breaks. He sounded the trucks horn but that wasn't enough. Wack!

"Down goes Frasier! Down goes Frasier!"

Unwittingly to the driver of the large truck his vehicle had just struck "the guy". I watched "the guy"'s body launch in the air. Travel 20 feet and land on the ground. It took me a second to realize what I just saw. Like Mimie before me when she saw this whole ordeal begin in front of the club.

I wondered if he was alive.

And then movement. He was alive and getting up.

"This bitch is mine" I said. I sprang up to life with new hope.

I was sore and was limping towards "the guy". He looked back over his left shoulder and saw me closing in. And with all his might he began to run again. All the people in the cars that had to suddenly stop for the accident got out of their vehicles and watched this whole event unfold. I don't know if they thought if it was a police foot chase they were witnessing or a zombie.

"The guy" and I were damaged. Cuts and bruises and blood on us both. He ran with a drunken stagger. And I gave chase like a person in a prosthetic leg. It was slow motion at its best. I had the upper hand since I wasn't just hit with the Ford F250 full size truck.

I finally caught up to my prize and wrangled him to the ground. Unfortunately it wasn't as great as dramatic as the chase but I got "the guy".

Mimie met me by the ambulance while I was having my road rash looked at. She was scared for me and upset by the event.

I looked at her and said," Well if it isn't my little shit stirrer" she laughed.

She said with exuberance and glee,"This was the best ride along yet!"

I looked at all the police guys who were around me. Their stares said it all. They wanted me to find a cooler to ride for now on. But they knew better. She's my wife after all.

I then turned to Mimie and said," Hey wanna do a ride along with me to the hospital in the back of the ambulance?"

 Either You Have it or you Don't

June 14th, 2012

I was just released from my field trainer and was finally on my own after two months of road patrol training in my new police career.

Being new, a rookie, you are regulated to the night shift. Its part of the process. Paying your dues on nights while gaining respect of the veteran officers who already did their time, working the late shift and “humping calls.”

That’s what it’s all about. Proving your worth in the field.

I was considered a good guy by the veteran officer’s since being hired, it didn’t mean I was on easy street with them though. There is more then being a good guy utilizing your personality to make friends. You have to prove yourself in other ways too by utilizing everything about yourself.

Do you have common sense? Are you going to get involved or sit back and do nothing? Are you a team player?

I would tell Mimie, that I wanted to be a good back-up officer, because if the officer I was backing up trusted me, then I defeated half the battle of proving myself by being a good cop. The back-up officer, I felt, was essential to keeping everyone safe.

There’s two types of back-up police officers’. The first officer does what he or she is suppose to do. Basically, be he back up. They don’t intrude on your call. He or she allows you to control it and they watch your back if your the lead officer, in case someone tries to ambush you or you overlook a weapon the bad guy is concealing. It’s a pretty simple role.

Then, there’s the back-up officer everyone dreads. The one you would rather cancel then have them arrive on your scene. He or she is the one that steps on your toes and tries to take over the call that your currently the lead on. You just can’t trust them to play their role.

I just wanted to be that guy you could depend on. The one that gives a cops mind relief, when I arrived to the scene to back him up. The other half of being a good officer is not backing down when another officer is in distress. Being there, side by side, no matter what. If we were battling Arnold Schwarzenegger and he threw me off his back well, I would get back up and jump on the pile again. It’s just the kind of dedication you want to see.

On my first day alone, I didn’t think it would be the veteran officer making the mistake. A mess that I would have to clean up. But I guess I got what I was looking for, complete respect, even if it was at his expense.

It was day one and the start of my twelve hour shift. Only three more to go in my four day work week. I had been on this schedule during my training and I was beginning to enjoy it, but by the fourth day of your shift your extremely tired. Your body feels like it is in a constant state of jetlag, always.

On this, my first night alone, I was dispatched to a domestic disturbance where I would have my first confrontation that would test me and my ability as a new officer and how I would be perceived by other officers in the future. I was about to prove my self worth.

You either have it or you don’t.

I was the back-up officer, backing up my field trainer who arrived before I did. I was standing in the living room of a small house. The room didn’t feel any larger then a walk-in closet. I did my job and stood by with my field trainer sas he poke with both parties.

My field trainer has been on the job for almost twenty years. He was burned out after all his years of service. He drank, off duty, chained smoked, and held on to what little hair he had left way to long. His body was not what it was ten years ago. Years of bad eating killing off what he once was.

Willie was sitting at the table. He was talking incoherently, his eyes practically closed. He was wearing a dark t-shirt and blue jeans. He was a crack addict but he was clean cut, for now. His black hair cut so short your could see the skin covering his skull. His black skin made darker from the hot sun burning the flesh during the day when he worked as a day laborer. He was wearing no shoes. The only thing I could make out was “damn women” as he went his on tangent of lost words.

His wife was standing near the kitchen. She was pissed. I don’t know if she was more pissed about a knife incident that she was trying to explain to us, or just fed up with his crack smoking. As the back up I just sized them up the entire time. It wasn’t too late at night, but Willie’s wife was already in her pink bath robe. She still had heavy make up on that over took her black skin tone. She was wearing a large wig that made me think of Whoppi Goldberg in Ghost. She stood defiantly before us, with her arms crossed .

“Shut the fuck up, Willie, shut the fuck up.” She would shout at Willie in between her explanation as to what was going on and why she called us there.

“He’s mad cause I didn’t buy him no food when I went to get dinner”, she said.

“Bitch I done told you…” Willie shouted with his eyes closed.

“Shut the fuck up Willie, Shut the fuck up, anyhow, so when he woke up he was mad and pulled a knife on my ass.”

“I ain’t crazy to pull a… (Willie)

“Fuck you Willie, I called the police here.”

(Willie)…knife on that crazy bitch because I…

“See what I mean that crack got Willie all fucked up.”

…don’t even smoke crack.” (Willie)

Their bickering words were running into each other like radio waves and it was hard to decipher what the hell happened.. My field trainer decided to separate them and had Willie’s wife step outside. I stayed inside to watch Willie.

Willie sat there and begun to put on his shoes. I still couldn’t make out a damn thing he was saying. Only pieces of his story.

“I didn’t no knife” He would say as he placed a sock on his foot. “I’ll just fucking leave, I’ll fucking go. Ain’t get me no food, bitch.”

Even through they were both separated by a concrete wall and a solid wood door I could still hear his wife’s voice cutting through as if she was still standing in the kitchen.

“Fuck that shit, he’s going to jail! He pulled a knife on me! That mother fucker is going to jail!” She was yelling.

Willie was so preoccupied with his own hell he was oblivious to what his wife was yelling just a short distance a way.

“I mean officer” Willie would begin for the tenth time, “ I’m just gonna leave this place man.”

“Fuck that he’s going to jail!… (Wife)

“I wanted food but I ain’t pulling a knife on that bitch”, Willie mumbled.

…Jail, J-A-I-L, he’s going to Jail!…(Wife)

“I was sleep anyhow, the knife was already on the table” Willie said half asleep.

…. I don’t care officer take him, take him.” (Wife)

I stood there and didn’t say a word. As far as I was concerned Willie wouldn’t hear me anyway. I mean he didn’t even hear his wife who was clearly adamant for his incarceration. I just stared at him. He was sitting in a chair by the kitchen leaning over tying his shoes.

The front door opened and walking through was my field trainer. He looked at me and threw his hands in the air and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, guess he’s going”, he said to me.

I followed in behind him as he passed me expecting to make the arrest without setting him off. Basically, walking up to him and telling him to stand up prior to giving him an indication he was going to jail. Everyone acts differently when they are placed in handcuffs. They either go willingly or they don’t. Some get caught up in the fight or flight syndrome.

“Get up, Willie”, my field trainer said as he reached in his front pouch to remove his handcuffs.

“What? What?”, Willie said looking confused as he stood up from his chair “I’m going to jail?!” He shouted, his eyes wide like saucers. He clearly wasn’t happy.

“Yup, turn around.” My field trainer said.

My eyes began to open as wide as Willie.s’. I couldn’t believe my field trainer, a cop for almost twenty years, showed our cards prior to us being prepared to arrest him. I mean, I was green, but even I knew not to do that. From Willie’s demeanor he wasn’t going peacefully.

Willie started to push back from us placing his back against the wall. His big hands in front of him, his arms stretched out. The palms facing forward and his fingers spread wide. He stood like he was ready to push back. I saw it. Did my field trainer?

“Wait, wait, wait”, Willie said. Finally something I could understand clearly other then his actions.

“Turn around Willie, just turn around” The field trainer said, sensing that he just made a big mistake himself. His twenty years finally catching up to him in one big “oh shit” moment.

Willie had no intention of turning around, in fact he put his head down and bulled rushed forward crashing into my field trainer. The force so hard his momentum threw him to the ground. I stepped aside with all the grace of a Matador moving his cape to distract the raging bull. Willie made a move towards the door. As he passed by, I reached over and gripped his right shoulder pulling him back. I then lunged forward and wrapped my left arm around his left shoulder jumping on his back. I pulled his torso back with all my might, like a horse jockey pulling on the reigns of his horse, until we both fell back.

I swung the momentum back in my direction, like a championship team going on a scoring frenzy. Our combined weight throwing us backwards towards the ground, our bodies crashing through a glass coffee table. I landed on my back with Willie’s back landing on my chest. I tried to crawl out from under him driving my feet into the glass riddled ground, pushing backwards as hard as I could. But Willie’s weight was too heavy and I took him along for the ride.

Willie was able to break my grasp and he turned his body towards me. I placed my arms behind me to brace myself and started to get up, using my arms to spring forward from the ground but Willie drove his shoulder into my chest, blasting me backwards into his couches.

The larger of the two couches was snug in the corner of the back wall with the right armrest parallel with the side wall where the two wells met to for an “L”. The love seat was on the far side wall , which in this small room wasn’t far enough. That back of the smaller couch was against the side wall the front right armrest facing the left sided armrest on the large couch.

The force from Willie’s half tackle shook the room. Our large bodies rocking the couches upwards. When it settled in place the large couch landed on my radio holster and the smaller couch landed on my gun holster, pinning my hips to the ground.

Exposed and defenseless to Willie, I reached up and bear hugged him, pulling him into me, trying to immobilize him. I felt his body pressure increase on my as we both made a collected, “oomph” sound like the air just got purged from our body. My field trainer had joind the pile jumping on Willie’s back. I was thankful for the help, but no the extra two-hundred and fifty pounds of weight added to Willie’s already two-hundred and thirty pouds on top of me.

I could feel Willie attempting to land punches into my sides, but I was able to guard against them by staying as close to the inside of him as possible. Not the easiest to do for a guy who is also six foot two inches, two-hundred and twenty five pounds myself. I decided I would fight back.

I did my best to get him off of me. Yelling to him, “Willie, just give up Willie, give the fuck up!” When that didn’t work, I met his force with my own. I tried punching him in the ribs as hard as I could. It didn’t work. It seemed to make Willie more aggressive. My field trainer decided to use a weapon.

On my back I couldn’t see much. I was tucked into the chest of Willie as much as I could. I needed air. I tilted my head to the right of Willie’s left shoulder to get a peak and take in some air.

“What the fuck!” I shout.

My field trainer had used his pepper spray on Willie at the same time I gasped for air. I took in a huge amount of cayenne pepper as I breathed in. We were all blinded from the spray. The pepper seemed to open my airway just to allow more of the oily residue into my system. The burning went from my nostrils and throat down my esophagus and trachea, burning everything that it covered. I continued to punch at Willie even though I couldn’t see and could breath even less.

During the confrontation that seemed to be taking forever, Willie bit my field trainers arm forcing him to drop the pepper spray. Willie the reached out and picked it up from the ground. He made a loud yell, like Tarzan from the jungle. Placing both arms firmly on the carpet he did a push-up, lifting my field trainer with him and tearing his shirt from my grasp. When I fell back I saw why none of my punching in the sides of Willie was working. Willie had on a thick back brace. I was punching plastic until my knuckles bled.

My field trainer was yelling for help on the police radio. In between transmissions I heard him yell at Willie, “I’m going to shoot you, I’m going to shoot you.”

I yelled, “Shoot him, I’m exposed, shoot him.” I would have shot him myself but my gun was pinned under the couch.

I looked up at Willie as he looked down at me. Our eyes locked into each other. My face was totally exposed and I was tired from all the punched I threw into his back brace. It was a stand off between he and I. Even through my field trainer was on his back, this was going to be between him and I. It seemed like we were waiting for the first to make their move. Suddenly, I took my right hand and use my palm to strike him in the side of the neck. It stunned hi. I felt his body go limp. I then struck him again. This time pushing my hand into him peeling him off of me. I slid away dragging the couches with me. Willie went to the ground. My field trainer rolled off his back.

I got to my feet as I pushed the couch off my gun belt. I fell forward and now I was on top of Willie. Grabbing at his arms I was able to finally get him in handcuffs as the cavalry came running in.

I pushed off of Willie and fell back on to his couch. Sweating profusely I sat there exhausted. I didn’t move anything but my eyes. Surveying the damage that was in his living room. I glanced down at Willie who was looking at me. Are eyes locked again, but I was on top this time, I was the victor in this melee. My field trainer laid on the ground exhausted. I got up and walked over to him extending my hand I pulled him up from the ground. He smiled.

“Good back-up man, good-back up” is all he could muster.” I smiled at him, “That’s all I wanted to be.” I said. “You earned it today Chris, welcome.” He replied.

I looked about the room at all the cops that were there. They all nodded their heads in their way of saying nice job kid, welcome to the club.

April 17th, 2012

 I'm using my body like a springboard as I bounce off the wall inside of the Social Security Office building. I'm here due to the passing of my wife. I may be able to get early benefits for my boys.

Earlier, when I arrived for my 9:05am appointment I had to park my car in the over packed parking lot and walk a good distance to the front entrance. I had to bring my youngest son Christopher with me since I didn't have a babysitter. My son is very independent so I decided to let him walk with me rather then grab the bulky double stroller.

We began our journey down the long stretch of roadway that in coming cars drive up and down in their quest for the best parking space. The cars circle the parking lot like vultures sensing death in the air. Yet, the drivers of those cars are glued to their cell phones oblivious to the sight of life walking around them. I made sure Christopher stayed close to my right leg keeping him away from traffic.

I placed my right hand on his left shoulder and walked slightly bent because of our considerable height distance. I couldn't hold his hand since I allowed him to bring in his toy fire truck and he wasn't about to let it go.

As we approached the building the sight of it gave your senses all of the warmth of a state prison. The building was boxy with really no architectural charm. The outside exterior was bland and the outside walls painted a dreary gray reflecting the mood of the early overcast morning. I dreaded walking inside. As we approached the entrance we began to walk through the double doors of the buildings entrance . We were met by a rush of people acting as a blockade thwarting our advancement. With the rush of people greeting us at the entrance/exit I had to stand to the outside of the doors and hold my son by both his shoulders. He was oblivious to what was going on. The only worry my son had this morning was not dropping is Tonka Fire Truck.

He was clutching the red toy ladder truck with both hands. As he pressed the top part of it into his body trying to squirm out of my grasp the sound of the white rotating ladder affixed to the top of it could be heard "clicking" as he squeezed it against him. He stared down at the red lights as they flashed. His little fingers activating them as he held if tight. For some reason through all the commotion the only sound I could hear was the muffled siren emanating from his chest area that was coming out of the fire truck. As I listened to the whaling sound I stared at the people as they walked out.

Everyone had smiling faces as they exited the building. "Maybe this won't be too bad. Just maybe the inside isn't as dreary as the vibe the outside gave?" I thought to myself with a sense of optimism .

As the hoard of people cleared out with the speed of a cattle stampede. I place my right hand flat on my sons back and lightly push him forward through the thick double doors. The doors were tall. At least 9 feet in height. Steel with thick long rectangular glass. The doors were painted an ugly maroon color and appeared very heavy looking. They were automatic so thankfully I didn't have to find out. I startled him with the shove but without hesitation he walked forward without looking up at me.

As he went through the hellish gates I followed close behind. "Yep, prison" I said as we came through the doors.
 I shook my head as I stood in the front of the lobby surveying the mundane looks on every ones face. No wonder people were smiling as they walked out. They had just gotten paroled. The waiting area is packed. There was people here for all kinds of different purposes. But everyone has one thing in common. Everyone looks miserable. It's probably because the wait looks un-Godly. Maybe they too were claiming death benefits.

On either side of this large waiting area there are 2 huge 50" flat screen TV's mounted to the wall. The government would flash information on the screen for you to read as you waited for your number to be called. It looked like some indoctrination material to keep you the reader in check.

The only interesting thing that caught my eye was a message in the lower right hand corner of the screen that read: " IF YOU SEE SOMEONE CALLED BEFORE YOU IT IS BECAUSE THEY HAVE AN APPOINTMENT..." thankfully I am that someone.

So now how do I keep my son who is in his terrible 2's occupied until that happens. I'm holding my son. He's straddling my waist. His little legs wrapped around the small of my back. He still refuses to let go of the fire truck and sounds off with a resounding "grunt" when I ask for it. I'm trying to keep him occupied for 15 minutes. Exactly 15 long minutes until 9:05am.

I choose to stand to the back of the the very crowded lobby. I was not interested in putting on a show for the masses and I did not want to see the frustrated faces that have been transplanted to their face due to the long wait. Besides I had 15 minutes to kill. But i knew my son would only last 15 seconds.

Well here I am, using my body as a springboard as I bounce my body off the interior wall. All the while I'm making silly noises at my son. As I fall back my shoulder blades touch the wall. I thrust my butt back against the wall springing my shoulders forward,"Waaaaaa" I say as goofy as any children's television show. Christopher giggles with delight.

The sounds of the intercom voice blasting from the ceiling drowning me out a little. "Now serving C26, C26."

The people way in the front can't hear me but the people in the back row with whom I am closest to surly can. "Waaaaa."

"A13, last call A13."

An older black lady peers over her left shoulder at me and she doesn't look pleased. I kinda give her a half crooked smile as to say,"What can I do?" She looks forward trying her hardest to hear the next number.

"C27, C27" the voice blares,"pay attention people."

My make shift springboard lasted all about lets see 8:52am. 2 minutes. My son isn't having it. He thrusts his legs against my hips. Thrashes his body side to side and attempts to smack me in the face. I laugh as I block it. I then give him a stern talking to.


So he wins this round. I put him down on the ground and as soon as his toddler size 7 shoes touch the ground he drops the fire truck and runs towards the big 9 foot jail doors. I give chase down the isle. He may be small but he's quick. I don't run after him because I don't want others in the lobby to think I'm not in control of my son. However I do not think I'm covering it up well. As soon as he can see his reflection in the large glass that's embedded in the double large doors I 'm able to snag his left sleeve,hook my finger inside and reel him in. I pick him up by his left arm swing his body to my right hand and with his momentum bring him into my body. "ahhhhhh" he screams as he kicks and thrusts his arms. He places his hands on my chest trying to push away.

I turn towards the lobby and rows of people turning into spectators. They're all looking at me. Their long boring wait turning interesting. In a room of about 100 people it's quite.

"C28, C28." Silence.

I look away and just walk towards the back as Christopher cries loudly. I walk over to the fire truck and pick it up. As soon as I give it to him he calms down. The older black lady in the back row looks over her shoulder again. I raise my eye brows and shrug my shoulders as if to say "What can I do?" I place him on the ground and he walks calmly down the hall by the bathroom areas.

"Whew" I think, he's confined there. I can breath 8:56. 9 minutes to go. I can do this.

"Ok people" a voice over the loud speakers said "If you miss your number you can't cut anyone off you'll have to re check in line and sit and wait again, thank you, C31."

I look at my number, C35. Okay soon. As soon as Christopher is in his own world an elderly male is walking towards the bathrooms. He has a cane and he's walking slowly towards him.

"Shit. 9:01" almost 9:05."

Just my luck the moment he's calm playing with his fire truck I'm going to have to move him. He's going to throw another tantrum. I walk over to him ahead of the elderly guy with the cane and take Christopher by the arm.

"Let's go over here and play" I said in the most softest kiddie voice I could do in order to try and mitigate his anger. It doesn't work.

He flares around like a fish that was just landed in a boat. My grips the fishing line and I'm holding it tight so it won't break.


He breaks my grip and falls to the ground. "Ugh" I think "Why couldn't I find a babysitter." I am so frustrated.

Heads are turning towards me and I'm giving the show to the masses I didn't want to give. He's just 2 I'm thinking. Terrible 2. I stand over him and allow him to work it out. He barrel rolls on the floor until he meets the same wall I was using to spring my body on. He hides his face along the baseboard and lays there.

"He's tired" I said to a passerby." it's true though.

Our sleep has been lousy and we've been up early. I took Nico straight to school this morning and we didn't eat breakfast. It's not like I didn't try though. I went to Burger King but Christopher didn't want it.

"Christopher Fusaro, Christopher Fusaro window 11." "My name?" Okay so much for C35.

I glance at the time. 9:05 exactly. "Wow" I think. I don't even get that kind of service when I make a doctors appointment. I bend down and pick Christopher up from the ground. He places his head on my shoulder and I wander around until I find window 11.

I sit down and face the man that is going to evaluate my situation and determine if I can obtain any death benefits.

"Good morning" he says as he looks at his computer.

"Good morning sir" I reply back.

"Do you have your information with you Mr. Fusaro?"

"Yes, sir I do." I hold Christopher tight to reassure him everything is going to be okay.

"Sir may I ask you how long this will take?" I ask in the most respectful tone. He is fixated on his computer.

He is working the mouse feverishly then stops. He finally pulls his eyes away from the computer sceen and looks at me.

"Well. About 15 minutes."

"Okay", I say tired. I suck in my lips and glance at my son.



May 6th, 2012

When you were in high school and if during career day a man in a nice suit and tie asked you to become a part of his company that has good pay and great benefits, you'd probably listen to what he had to say.

If the same gentleman told you, “That aside from the great benefits there is little upside to the position I’m offering you. You'll probably have to work night shift, weekends, holidays and special occasions. Anniversaries and special events will probably come and go without you being with your loved ones. Your life expectancy is five years below the American average age of seventy-eight, because the stress will give you health issues. Most people working in the field will self medicate to help cope with things they see. And more then likely you'll be a divorce statistic."

My guess is you'll tell that nice dressed gentleman to, “go fuck himself.” And yet there's about 700,000 cops in America that listened.

There are other things you sacrifice in this job other then the possibility of losing your life and special events. You sacrifice your family life as well. I knew that. I never had anyone have to tell me otherwise.

When I had to work the 7 pm night shift on my birthday I didn't pout. There just wasn't any celebrating this night.

“There’d be other birthdays”, I said to myself. Like every other time I had to work on some kind of special event.

The good is my birthday wasn't a total washout. I took Mimie on a police ride along with me tonight. I figured we’d spend time together answer some calls then have dinner together.

It's written in our policy and procedure manual that during our twelve hour shift we have a lunch break but that is not guaranteed. You are always subjected to recalls while you eat your meal. Most of the time, if it isn't a major disaster or violent crime a fellow officers will step up for you and take whatever mundane call dispatch gave you so you wouldn't have to leave your meal.

The night was moving slow which was a surprise given Mimie’s reputation as the “shit stirrer of crime” when she rides with me. It’s summer time and the heat tonight in Florida is sweltering.

The air is thick. Its so heavy it languishes without much dissipation. The air is so wet it sticks to you like a Florida Beggarweed that sticks to your clothing when you walk through high grass. My guess is that its so miserable out that not even criminals want to play. So dinner was on without interruption.

We stopped in a now defunct restaurant called Beefeaters.

Really the only decent place to eat for any kind of special occasion within my city at the time. The restaurant was nice inside. Brick arches as you walked in. Nice linen table clothes. A roaring fire, I guess they didn’t check the nights weather report. We enjoyed that night together. Good food and great conversation can you ask for anything more?

But the truth is Mimie and I could always talk for hours on end, we’d talk. That’s what I miss about her most now. No matter what we’d always talk. Whether we were getting along or not she was my confidant. I truly miss our conversations now.

After dinner we drove around the city looking for anything that “went bump in the night.” But tonight was a wash.

The outside air immobilizing anyone who dared to venture out in it. So at about 1 A.M. Mimie decided that she wanted to go home. I drove her back to the police department so she could get her car. She got in and drove off I decided that I would follow her car in my marked police car half way to the condo we shared. It was a not too far distance away.

We didn’t get too far from the police department when I noticed something.

My city is like “Copland” for police officers. They like to reside here. Especially our own. My supervisor at the time was one of them. He bought his house from another cop that lived there. Like being passed down from generation to generation.

As Mimie turned her white Honda Civic down the main street. I followed close by in my black and white Crown Victorian police car. The road was dark. The street lights not on.

The darkness cast itself on the houses like a blanket hiding the face of a scared child. The pitch black made it hard to see through unlit streets and house lights. However the shapes in the driveways of cars and objects were easy to make out.

I patrol these streets every night. The continuous repetition of driving up and down these roadways day in and day out gives me a tactical edge over the bad guy. I am able to figure out what should be there and what shouldn’t be there. Especially at 1 A.M. in the morning.

When I saw a large dark SUV backed-into my bosses driveway, who was working with me that night. I was a little bit suspicious.

I divert my eyes to his driveway and think to myself ,“He has his boat hooked up? I guess he’s going out on the boat as soon as he gets off this morning, but whose SUV is that, family?’

As I drive a little more past the house, I notice a large cover on the ground in-between his house and his neighbors home.

“Those are his twin motor engine covers to his boat”, I think to myself.

I put a little more distance from the house and my police car I saw an object or person trying to use the thick of the night as cover and the trees as its concealment. The object w all orange.

I knew it was orange because the orange spectrum seemed to glisten off the dampness of the air.

“Well that’s odd”, I say.

The orange then disappears like being swallowed by a black hole. I grab the police radio microphone that is mounted to the dash interior of my car.

"Delta 1(my radio identifier) Palm’s West (dispatch) ,10-55 (contact other unit), 118 (My supervisor)"

Palm’s West:

"He’s 10-12 (present with dispatch) Delta 1" 

Delta 1:

"10-4 (message acknowledged) Palm’s West. Does anyone have permission to take is boat?"

My eyes are fixated on the red tail lights of Mimie’s car getting further into the darkness. The red ambient light about to be swallowed by the creeping in of the blackened street.

Palms West:

"10-9 (repeat your last) Delta 1"

The dispatcher says with a giggle in her tone.

Delta 1:

"Did he allow anyone to take his boat Palm’s West?"

I said impatiently

Palms West:

"He said 10-54 (negative) Delta 1"

Delta 1:

"Well tell him they’re stealing his boat now Palm’s West. I’ll swing around."

With that last transmission I approach a four way intersection guarded by four stop signs. With a flash in my mind I wonder.

“Did they know I saw them? Are they watching me to see if I saw them?'

"Fuck it, I’m turning around." I use the entire intersection to make a wide u-turn.

At about the time my car was making it’s u-turn my sergeant left his seat in dispatch so fast the chair he was sitting in was still spinning on its ball barring axis. He ran out the door and down the long corridor. From what I am told by witness that day, his feet pounded so hard on the ground it gave a rousing echo off the high ceilings reverberating the windows and doors with each strike of his heavy Bates work boot.

Another officer said that before he could turn around from his desk and leave to rush to the potential ‘boat caper’ his vision caught a blur and his body a breeze from the unrecognizable object, followed by a slamming back door. 

I completed my u-turn I decided to drive as fast as I could. I knew the bad guy or guys knew I had seen them.

I stomp on the gas pedal hard until the flat metal rectangular plate was flat on the cars floor board. The front of the car raises as the engine revs. The rear wheeled vehicle digs its tires into the pavement pulling back everything in the car like a sling shot. As the tires gain traction the car lunges forward. The G force keeping me glued to the back of my seat. The car races down the street. I’m about 20 houses away. I know they see me now, there is no going back.

15 houses

My mind races to what I’ll find when I get there. How many people are there? What will I encounter? Will they ambush me? If they run how will I give chase?

11 houses

The large SUV coming into my vision more clearly. I’m ready, I think. My adrenaline is pumping. My head feels light headed as all my blood rushes to my lower extremities preparing for a foot chase or a shooting.

7 Houses out

Like clock work I grab my police radio and announce:

Delta 1:

"Palms West I’m going 10-97" (on scene)

I drop the mic with my right hand. With my left hand I grab the handle to the large spot light that is mounted to the left side window. I flick the little lever that activates the light with my left top thumb nail.
I light up the once darkened street.

3 houses

Click off the seat belt with my right hand.

2 houses

Move my right hand from the base of the seat belt and grab the steering wheel.

1 houses

Scan the are for the bad guys. focusing the light on the front lawn of the house.

The light is very bright. It illuminates the whole area and I see 3 potential suspects.

My eyes immediately trained on one suspect wearing all orange. The orange that foiled their plan. I begin to turn my car partially into my bosses driveway. The headlights adding more light to the already chaotic scene. The three suspects begin to scatter like cockroaches being startled by the kitchen light being turned on abruptly.

I place my car in park before it had a chance to stop by itself with the application of the brakes. The transmission grinds and the car lightly skids. The car slides.

I take my left hand off the spot light handle and grab the car door handle. I push the door open with my left foot and use the cars momentum to jump out of the car. As my foot hit the concrete driveway the car comes to a complete stop. I pivot my foot and drag out my right foot and plant it solidly on the ground. I turn my body to the left and extract my entire 6 foot 2 inch frame out of the car. I take 2 to 3 steps forward my head and eyes stay turned towards the guy in orange. I do a semi-circle around my opened car door. At the same time I reach down with my left and un-holster my handgun. My body clears the door and the safety of my car. MY gun clears the holster flawlessly and I extend my gun forward at the bad guys.

“GET ON THE GROUND!” I shout with authority.

“GET THE FUCK ON THE GROUND!” I say in case they doubt my sincerity.

There is hesitation on their part. Their mind conflicted that maybe they can get away. But the cooler side of their thought process prevails and they obey my order to get down.

All three suspects eat the dirt at the same time my sergeant/homeowner drives-up. His car not yet in park when he jumps out of the car and runs up to the suspects.


While he was telling the bad guys how he really felt about them, the cavalry arrived. Just about the whole team was there and we secured the bad guys in handcuffs. We briefly stood around and gave each other high-fives for a job well done.

“Okay”, I say to break-up the awkwardness. “Hey did anyone check the SUV to make sure there was nobody in side it?” I ask.

We all look at each other dumbfounded.

“No”, one of the officer’s said as he shakes his head.

We all turn around and light the cab of the truck with our 24,000 candle bright maglights.

In the rear of the SUV there was a male sitting there quietly. He tried to use the drivers side seat as concealment with the hopes we’d never discover him.

“Shit”, I said.

 “Get on the ground, get out, get on the ground!” We all say in unison.

He complies with our demands and is handcuffed once he gets out of the car and lays on the ground.

“Oops”, one of the officers said."Guess we should have checked the car."

Just like that a night of boredom for a birthday ends with a five minute adrenaline rush. At the time we were on scene Mimie calls me on my cell phone.

“Hey, just wanted to say thanks for a good night.” she said the tiredness in her voice. “Even though nothing really happened tonight dinner was great.”

“Yes”, I said to Mimie.

“Usually you’re my shit stirrer but tonight nothing really happened. Just another boring birthday. But hey, I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for this job. Have a good night. I love you.”

Having a Bad Day

Some people have a bad day. Others have a worse day. Sometimes you get dragged into someone's nightmare. As a cop you never know when or where that will happen. But eventually, it will happen.

I was on early morning patrol on a Tuesday during rush hour traffic. The sun had just broke the earths horizon and the rays of light stretched across the streets of my city like clouds rolling over a mountain top. I was traveling north bound in my police cruiser among the rest of the other early morning commuters. The traffic flowed fast and freely without any rhyme or reason on this day. Until I saw a sea of red lights in front of me. I slammed on my breaks with the quickness and power of a thoroughbred starting at the gate. As my squad car began to stop I peered around from my drivers seat the best I could to see beyond the car in front of me. I saw someone get out of their car and start running past the intersection. It couldn't have been more than 50 feet in front me.

Instinctively, like a lioness on her pray I flipped on my over head blue police lights and manually and erratically hit my police siren like a broken record to weave myself a short distance to see what was going on. As my field of vision became more clear I could see what ended everyone's easy commute. There was a green Toyota or Honda diagonally stopped in the middle lane of a 3 lane road. The 2 front wheels of the disabled car were over the broken striped lines that separate each lane and began an intrusion into the left lane. The front end looked crippled and damaged badly. The back end of the car rose higher in the air then the front. So much so I could see the muffler and rear gas tank staring back at me. I immediately blocked as much of the 3 traffic lanes as my 17 foot 8 inch police cruiser could cover.

Before I stepped out I saw a man lying on the ground with people around him. Was that the driver? Pedestrian? I notify dispatch on the radio.

121 (Me): 121 Palms West

Palms West (Dispatch): 121 go ahead

121: I have a signal 4 possible car vs. pedestrian I'll advise. (signal 4 Traffic Crash)

I get out of my car. My eyes are fixated on why all the fascination of the people that have surrounded this person lying on the ground. As I weave my way through the hoards of people I see what they're gawking at.

121: Palms West I have a person down. I need all north bound and south bound traffic stopped. Possible THI and it appears the pedestrian is gonna go 7.

(THI is a Traffic Homicide And a 7 is a dead person)

I demand everyone to move and leave.


Amazing what a uniform and a very vocal voice will do to a crowd. They started leaving. As I step forward to the person on the ground I immediately see he won't make it. We make eye contact. I stare into his eyes. He stares back at me gasping for air. I look up at the badly damaged car that sruck him down and yell as I point at it through the chaos.

"Where's that driver of that car!" looking directly at the car.

A lady who standing by me points to the city bus bench and says.

"He's right there!" "

My God. He's a kid." I think to myself. I tell the lady,"Sit with him right now." I then refocus the guy on the ground.

Not much older then my years of 35. White male. Wearing a green jacket and blue jeans. He looked like he was healthy at one point and appeared to be having a bad day.

"Hey man stay with me, stay with me." I tell him. I demand him. I know he's in rough shape and I know he isn't going to make it.

I get back on my radio and notify Palms West.

121: Palms West tell Fire Rescue to hurry up.

The blood pools up around him and spreads in a circular shape. It was like a perfectly lateled scoop of pancake mix evenly spread on the griddle as he batter spreads to form a perfect circle. I have to widen my stance.

As I do this I look down and notice I am standing one what is left of his left and right shin bones. They were mangled and displaced from his body.

"Come on man stay with me. Look at me. Stay right here" I point to my eyes. Loking directly at him. His breathing is heavy and labored. He still has life in his eyes. But his mangled body wasn't cooperating. "Come on man. I'm here. Just hang in there. We have Fire Rescue coming."

Fuck is all I can say with my inner voice.

His right shoulder was separated from its scoket under tucked under his upper back. His blood continue to drain from his body.

121: Palms West he's gonna go 7. Pause (silence) He breathes. I watch. He stops.

121: Palms West he's 7.

Time 7:57 am

Yep, we all have bad days. Some worse then others. Sometimes we need good ones.
When will that be?

The Sock Dilemma

Arguments happen. They happen to the best of us no matter how strong the relationship is. Sometimes they're healthy and sometimes they're not. Other times the argument can give you a good laugh when you reminisce about days gone by. Like the time when...

My alarm goes off at the usual time, 6:15am on my work days. I hate that sound. A high pitch shrieking buzz sound. Like an annoying pet bird that doesn't come with a snooze button.

I always set my alarm clock 15 minutes fast. I don't know why. Maybe for a tactical advantage to trick my body that I may be late for work. However, my mind knows that it's really 6am when the annoying tone blasts and I wind up hitting snooze until the last possible second.

When I'm done teasing my body with the snooze button my mind says, "Get up you lazy bastard."

I finally get out of bed and like every other morning .I stumble around like I just had a couple beers the night before. My dog Champ, a beautiful Yellow Labrador, knows how many times I hit the alarm clock's snooze button. Once I press it the final time he gets up from his orthopedic dog bed that is placed on the floor on my side of the bed, really man's best friend. He walks down the hallway and lays beside the bathroom door.

As if his brain told him to "sit, lay down you are a lazy bastard."

I don't think Champ does this out of his eagerness to greet me first thing in the morning. He knows his breakfast is about 10 minutes away from being served.

I stumble down the hallway towards the bathroom I step over Champ carefully avoiding all of his appendages and into the bathroom where all of the life's early morning necessities are taken care of before the day begins. As usual before I walk out of the bathroom I look at the floor and at the clothes that I have taken off the night before. The pile has grown in height since the last time I was in there. The clothes range from black under shirts that I wear under my uniform and bullet proof vest. To knock around t-shirts and 2 pairs of underwear.

One pair of underwear is red and little white reindeer on them. The other pair of underwear are blue with Christmas snow globes scattered around them. Clearly these are worn in times of emergency when my regular underwear supply is running low. Soon I'll be resorting to my glow in the dark Halloween pair.

There are also socks peppered in the piling of clothes. As I walk out I think to myself," I really need to put those dirty clothes in the laundry basket. My wife is going to be pissed if she isn't already."

After I feed the dogs and get dressed I realize I can not find any socks. I'm not talking your standard cotton sock or dressy socks. These are double stitched double cotton very comfortable postal socks.

As a gift Mimie bought me these socks because of the extra comfort they provide to those people who are on the feet all the time. I loved them and have become so accustom to them I can't work without them.

Suddenly I remember seeing a pair on that pile of laundry in the bathroom. I march straight to the bathroom like a soldier on a mission. I find a pair. Smell them. "Fine to me" I think and wear them, again. After my long twelve hour work day in the hot Florida sun I get home. Mimie is siting on the couch. Her arms are folded. Her right leg is crossed over the top of her left leg. It;s dangling down. She bounces it like its spring loaded. She cocks her head back and looks directly at me.

"Where did you find the socks?" she said holding her breath.

I told her, "I seemed to be running out of socks and clothes in general. So I reused another pair that were on that pile of clothes in the bathroom. Don't worry though. They smelled clean enough to wear again." I stared straight faced at her

"Oh, the pile of clothes that are stacking up in the bathroom?" she said with a sound of frustration.

"Yea. And really you should do something about that. Its getting piled high." I said with sincerity in my voice.

"Why don't you just place them in the laundry basket to begin with?" She said and then bites her bottom lip.

"Well, I don't know. I just don't want to bother you when your in the room when your pre-occupied is all" I said thinking that if i showed concern for her it would smooth this over.

"You know what bothers me more then being bothered in the bedroom? The pile of clothes piling up in the bathroom!" she said raising her voice just a little.

"Yea, but the laundry basket gets piled up so to lighten the load I leave them here." I told her with a straight face.

"That's because when I do laundry you refill it with the clothes that are piled in the bathroom." She said making a good point. "Haven't you noticed that you have been running out of clothes?"

I look at her with my dumb face," Yes. I have been using my emergency holiday underwear."

"That's because I have stopped washing the clothes that are lying in the bathroom floor. Hello." she said with more frustration. "Oh" I said I couldn't muster up a better response. "What have you been doing for socks?" she said with sarcasm.

"I wanted to tell you. I thought they were getting lost in the laundry, because I don't have any more socks. So I went out and bought more today." I said with some concern.

"You what?" Mimie said in disbelief.

"I bought more socks today since the other ones are getting lost in the laundry."

Mimie's mouth dropped,"They're not lost", she said as she walked away.

She walked in the kitchen and into a cabinet where the large pot and pans are kept. She returns with a plastic grocery bag in her hand. She approaches me and drops it at my feet."There you go. Socks and plenty of them."

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"What am I taking about? I'll tell ya what I'm talking about. Your socks. I'm tired of looking at them. Socks on the floor. Socks in the bedroom. Sock in the bathroom. socks on top of dirty clothes! I got tired of seeing them so I collected them in a bag to teach you a lesson. And what do you do? What do you do? You buy more socks!" With that she walked away.

I stood there for a second with the same dumb look on my face. I look down at the bag of socks on the floor she dropped at my feet. I turn my head trying to peer into the bag. There were all types of socks. Foot socks. Work socks. White Socks, black socks, sports socks. I bent over to get a better look and picked up the heavy bag. I pried the plastic bag open by the handles.

I smell into the bag, "Hey Mimie!",I yell "Are they clean?"


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The Adventures of Captain Imperfecto/Born Again by Christopher P. Fusaro is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at


  1. omg... really? did you really say are they clean?

  2. Lol Mimie and I had countless conversations about your socks! Haha bright idea sis to gather them up to try to make a point :)

  3. Hi, yes I did, I know bone head! Yes Kim, it bothered her lots. ugh!