It's half - past five in the morning and once again I'm drunk off my ass limping off the ground in some dark - alleyway in one of the shittiest parts of town. The stars are out tonight and there's a full - moon baby. My body aches and I've got bruises all over my face, I mean what did I expect when I picked a fight with that bouncer. Boy was he a bruiser, he nearly knocked my left - eye out its socket.
That's why I miss being a cop and not for the reasons you might think. Protect and Serve, my ass. No, that b.s. is for suckers. The whole point of the badge in the first place is personal - gain, power, people respect you more when you've got the juice. And on top of that the stupid - pricks give you a gun. Truth is most cops are jerks, but every once in a while you'll meet that one cop, that one individual that puts a smile on your face. That one pig whose shit doesn't smell as bad as the rest. I was that pig once.
That was a long time ago. That was back when I still had something worth fighting for, still had Kate and the kids. Those were the good old days, there was less noise in the house and I didn't always come home wreaking of beer and strippers.
I wipe the blood from the side of my mouth and reach into my jeans pocket. fudge you bitch I need a cigarette. I trip over something, it's sturdy and hard, because it trips me over and I do a face - plant - hard onto the cement, causing half the cigarettes in my box of Newports to slip out. Oh yeah and it's raining so everything's soaked now.
"Hey you fudge, I'll kill you!"
I hear approahing footsteps and I get slugged before I can even get up. He pounces on me, his hands swinging wildly, he's doing a lot of slapping whoever he is, but not a whole lot of anything else. What kind of guy slaps?
"Get the fudge off me!" I shout, pushing him off me with all the strength that I'm able to muster. I'm angry now, an angry - drunk. There's going to be hell to pay.