It’s been a LONG time since I wrote a story. So here’s a goddamn story.
Sorry about all the sacrilegious stuff lately. I’m just working through stuff
Like I always say: I ain’t promising that this story will be good.
“Cleveland. Shit,” I uttered to myself. “Still only in Cleveland.”
“What’s that, Jack?” the Chief asked.
“Nothing, Chief,” I replied. “It’s just that I’ve been stuck in this godforsaken city for the last two months.”
“Eh,” the Chief shrugged, “at least it ain’t Cincinnati.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I replied as I lit up a cigarette. “What do you got for me?”
“A triple homicide. Two dead hookers and an anonymous John.”
“So the usual, huh?” I said.
“Jesus Christ, Jack! Do you want the case or not?! I’ve got two detectives downstairs itching for a case like this and you’re up here bitching like a little bitch!”
“Don’t use that language around me Chief,” I replied. “I was raised Southern Baptist.”
“My mistake, Jack,” the Chief said, “you know me, I always try to be respectful of other people’s belief’s. Except for Seven Day Adventist.”
“So what’s it gonna be Jack? Do you want the case or not?”
I put out my cigarette and grabbed the file. “I guess so Chief,” I said, “Sometimes I wish the Lord would come back and unleash hell on this town. If it ain’t a serial killer, it’s some goddamn junkie robbing his grandmother for his next fix. I swear, you unbelievers will learn the vengeance of God! May this city be cast into Hell!”
The Chief got on his knees and begged for mercy. “Please Jack! Don’t let me burn in hell for all of eternity!”
“Then accept the Lord Jesus Christ into your heart,” I said, “and pray for the forgiveness of your sins.”
And on February 23rd, 2022, the Chief accepted Salvation through Jesus Christ.
After the Chief’s conversion, I loaded my .38 and asked God to guide my bullets into the bodies of my enemies. “Thank you Lord,” I prayed, “let vengeance be Yours…and mine.”
I kissed the barrel of my gun and entered the mean streets of Cleveland. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil,” I uttered.
I grabbed the first pedestrian I saw on the streets. “Do you recognize this man?” I asked while holding up a picture of one of the victims.
“No,” they replied.
I slapped them across the face with the butt of my gun. “Liar!” I yelled, “Do you know what the Lord does to liars? He mutilates their genitals and they feast on them in heaven! So don’t let the devil catch your tongue! For it’s not the devil you should worry about if that happens! It’s GOD. And you WILL know God’s wrath AND the wrath of my .38!”
After the pedestrian pissed their pants, they confessed the victim’s name: Art McGarth.
So I let that poor sack of shit go and lit up a cigarette. “Not bad for an honest day’s work,” I thought.
TO BE CONTINUED…