Officer Jones got the call of a drunk disorderly man disturbing the peace in downtown Metropolis. The purps description was a large man dressed up in a superman costume. This was fairly routine for officer Jones and just another day in the office.
He pulled up to the location where the call took place and sure enough, there was superman. Yet another story to tell his friends at the bars.
Officer Jones stepped out of his vehicle and approached the man waltzing through the middle of the street with a bottle of Jamison in his hand.
“Sir, can you please go on the sidewalk and let’s talk.” He said.
“I am the sidewalk” the man said in a drunken slur.
“Sir move now or I’ll be forced to move you”
“You can’t move me” the drunk man said whiling maniacally grinning.
“Hard way it is” officer Jones said while moving quickly towards the drunk man. He grabbed the mans wrist in attempt to control him. Except when he grabbed it and attempted to twist it, it didn’t move. Officer Jones heart sank. He looked into the mans eyes. The drunk man was gazing into officer Jones eyes with a psychotic smile. He tried to twist his arm again. It was like trying to twist a piece of iron. Not a single budge. The drunk man began to spin in slow circles with arms spread out. Officer Jones was holding onto his wrist and being dragged along with him. This was the real deal. He was attempting to arrest superman.
“Oh you want to dance Officer. Yeah” superman said. “Sir I’m just doing my job please” officer Jones pleaded. “Fiiiiiine” superman said while hiccuping. Superman put his arms behind his back. Officer jones quickly put cuffs on him and attempted to move him onto the curb. When Officer Jones pushed him, again, superman wouldn’t budge. It was like trying to push a tree trunk. Officer Jones leaned forward with all his body weight on superman. Superman quickly floated into the sky. Officer Jones fell face first into the street. He looked up at superman floating in the air. Superman gazed down at him with a sympathetic look making a sad face. “Quit sleeping on the job officer” superman said while landing on the side walk. He got up and walked over to the criminal. “Had a few drinks huh? Let’s go back to the station and sleep this off. I’m just making sure everyone’s safe” Officer Jones said. “I need a hug” superman said while beginning to sob. He snapped his handcuffs off and put his arms out and waited to receive a hug. Officer Jones felt nervous about hugging the man knowing in his drunk state he could easily crush him to death. He embraced the Cryptonian. They embraced each other for a minute and he let superman sob on his shoulder. He was lifted off his feet and into the air. “You wanna fly to Vegas? We can swim in the fountain thing” “How about you hop in the back of my police car over there and we can go somewhere else?” “Okay.” Superman said excitedly. He dropped the officer and grabbed his hand and the two approached the police car. Officer Jones opened the back door and guided Superman into the back seat. While entering the backseat, his head smashed into the cruiser and left a dent that was perfectly conformed to his head. “Oops. Sorry are we still friends?” “Just get in” Officer Jones insisted. He closed the door and entered into the drivers seat. For the next twenty minutes, the shenanigans began. Superman fell asleep and his head smashed through the window. He tried to open the door and ripped off the door handle. He pried open the metal fencing in the backseat and crawled into the passenger seat while breaking everything he touched. He played with the siren. He broke another door handle. He smashed his head through the window and began to whale like he was a siren. He grabbed the radio and crushed it in his hand. He ripped the shotgun off its holster and asked if he could shoot it. Officer Jones declined. They arrived at the police station and exited the cruiser. Superman attempted a hood slide over the vehicle and dented it. There was a perfect imprint of Superman’s ass cheeks on the hood. Superman slapped Officer Jones butte and kissed him. He flew away. Another story for the bars.
The police sheriff gripped the paper tightly. He was sitting cozily behind his desk in his quiet little city of Lincoln, Nebraska. He gazed sharply out of the window. Outside he observed an overcast of clouds in the sky that was relentlessly dumping snow on his little town. His mouth went dry, and he could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
“Where did you get this?” The sergeant asked his deputy. The deputy was standing in the sergeant’s office and was a fresh boot from the academy. He now had a look of nervousness on him. His sergeant was a very large man you didn’t want to mess with and was well known for his temper.
“A dog just dropped it off at the front desk.”
“A dog?”
“Yeah, I mean it had the envelope attached to its collar. We took the note and the dog ran off.”
“Where did the dog go?”
“Um I’m not sure sir. Should we call animal control? Everything alright? What’s it say?” the deputy asked. The sergeant quickly stopped and turned towards the deputy. It was if the sergeant forgot he was in the room.
“Yeah no. Everything’s fine. Dismissed.” The sergeant said. The deputy had a look of confusion on his face. He put his finger up but before he could say anything, the sergeant cut him off and repeated, ‘dismissed.’
The deputy walked out of the room. He closed the door behind him and as soon as he did, the sergeant leaped from his chair over to the door and locked it. He raced back to his desk, picked up the phone and dialed a number. He stood hunched over his desk with the phone jammed hard into his ear. A woman picked up on the other end of the line.
“Hey sweetie.”
“What the fuck is this? This some sort of sick joke. You could of got us caught.”
“Oh baby I was just in town and wanted to send you a little loven.”
“Do you want to get caught? You’re one of the nations most wanted men.”
“Woman.”
“ You know what I mean.”
“I’m sorry baby it’s just been so boring here. Ever since I got here, you’ve been working that job. You need to be working these hips” the woman said while letting out a soft giggle in a country ascent.
The sergeant let out a soft sigh. He looked out the window at the tundra of Lincoln and he felt his heart begin warm up and flutter. He felt himself getting aroused. He relaxed and loosened up his shoulders.
“This letter. Did you kill again?”
“She’s not dead yet. She wants to watch like the others.”
“So you caught us a snack huh? Was it a clean grab?”
“Oh baby its clean and ready to get dirty for you.”
“Alright baby, I’m leaving soon. Keep her alive and we’ll have her watch and well kill the sinner tonight. Together.
The woman on the other line groaned sexually and let out another giggle, “Alright, I’ll see you soon officer.” The woman hung up.
The sergeants heart began to race. He met Melanie Frost a few months ago. She was on the run and he had picked her up on a traffic stop. She was a beautiful petite woman. She was tan and had long black hair that curled beautifully down her large breast. She was flirty and extremely attractive. The sergeant was possessed by the woman. She had dark sexual fantasies that he played out with her. She was his every desire. He learned about her past, but she convinced him he was her white knight savior. His obsession with the woman allowed her to act out. This included some sexual fantasies that occasionally ended in murder. She liked it. Therefore, he liked it.
He walked over to his coat rack and put on his jacket. He walked over to the door and unlocked it. He thought to himself, ‘God I’m such a lucky man.’
He exited his office and turned around and locked up. He turned around and stopped mid stride. His eyes grew in fear. The entire police force was sitting around his secretary’s desk. They had a look of anger and disgust. He looked at his secretary. She had a look of horror on her face. She looked down at her desk at her phone. It was on speakerphone and was listening in on his conversation with Ms. Frost.
The rooster’s eyes burned crimson red with rage. It sat quietly in the cage. Docile and motionless, it was saving its energy for his great escape. The rooster had been dropped off to our farm. My little sister and I received the feathery package. I was eight. She was six. We were curious. I lived on a farm in Wichita, Kansas. It was a beautiful farm. It was summer and the deep green gorgeous leaves would dance in the wind. The gentle breeze blew through the farmhouse land and created a soothing low level vibrant sound. The crickets and grasshoppers chirped away in the distance. We could smell the scent of corn husks in the air. A pinch of manure too. Beautiful sunny days like today gave our summer days great quality. Our winters, not so much. The green cut grass sprawled out around our old farmhouse. The farmhouse was beaten down and weathered from the summers and winters. Old but sturdy.
Today our father was gone. He was down the road outsourcing his tractor to a friend. That left us alone with the feathery package. The rooster was twice the size of any of our other ten chickens. He had every color in a crayon box on him. The tips of his feathers were silvery blue. He had a lion’s mane that shimmered in our summary Wichita sunlight. His body was a cheerful orange, and his wings were black and speckled with jade. Unlike our other chickens, this roosters’ eyes were red. He was the most majestic bird I’ve ever seen.
“We can name him Sir Clucks A lot. Can I pet it? It’s so cute.” My sister asked.
“I don’t know. You think it will run away? The other chickens hang out here. He seems really big” I answered.
“You think he will like Henrietta and Silver?”
“He looks mean.”
“What if they fight?” she asked with an anxious look on her face. She poked her finger through the cage and touched the chicken's back.
“We should wait for dad.”
“I brought Mr. Marmalade. He can ride the chicken. I want one of his blue feathers.” she said. Mr. Marmalade was her favorite doll. It was dirty and raggedy, but she always kept it by her side.
“We can take him out for five minutes, but we need to put him back right after.” I spoke. She screeched in happiness. I examined the bird cage. It was small and had a latch in the front. I took a deep breath and unlatched it. I opened the door and peered into the cage. All I could see was the chicken’s butt. I poked it.
“Grab it.” My sister exclaimed.
“Hang on dang it.”
I took another deep breath. I gathered all my courage. I reached into the cage and grabbed the chicken’s butte. As soon as I made contact, the chicken craned his neck around sharply. I made eye contact with him. As the bird and I made a connection, I knew this was a bad idea. The look on the rooster’s face wasn’t friendly. It was murderous.
I pulled my hand out quickly. The bird launched from its cage like a cannonball. I fell backwards on my back. As soon as I landed, the rooster was on top of me. It was attacking me and pecking with all of his might. I kicked the bird off. By now, the scuffle had created a huge dust cloud from dirt on the driveway. I got up and backed away. My sister started to scream. The rooster emerged out of the dirt cloud. Wings flapping and its feet out in attack position, it was headed for my sister. She screamed in terror and held out her doll. It blocked the chicken’s attack. I stood in shock and didn’t know what to do. I felt something push me down to the ground. When I looked up, it was my dog Boomer that had shoved me down and was coming to save the day. The rooster screamed and cried as the dog attempted to bite him. He took off in the air and away from the dog. The bird was now in complete flight mode and was between the dog and I. The bird narrowed its eyes at me and targeted me. It sailed down to attack me. But as the rooster was about murder me, he was hit with something. I opened my eyes and saw it was Mr. Marmalade.
Jason’s brother, Paul, had been missing for a few days now. A few days of worrying. A few days of fear. A few days of planning. He has been complaining that someone was following him. I told him it was probably one of your ex-hobo girlfriends. His brother enjoyed the promiscuous life. As long as it had a pulse, he was game. Unfortunately, his life style may of caught up to him. Jason didn’t know what his brother was into but he came up with a plan to try to find him. The police were all but useless. Their plan was to sit and wait. My plan was a little more interactive. Last night, I had texted my brother: “Bro, I got that stuff from the thing in the thing. I’ll get it to you tonight at the raceway.” It was a wise guy text. It didn’t really mention anything and was pretty generic. But if someone had Paul, they had his phone and if I was lucky, whoever had him would be a bit curious about what I had. So there I sat in the raceway. In a silly disguise. I was dressed up as some red neck hillbilly that was into the race. I wore a trucker hat, a blonde curley wig, and tight Levi jeans. The icing in the cake for my look was a green sleeveless shirt with skulls and the text that read ‘hillbilly nation.’ I also had two squirt guns. One with whiskey and one with pepper spray. I was locked and loaded. I scanned the seats and looked for anyone or anything out of place. Whoever had Paul was probably in the crowd looking for me. After about an hour, two guys in leather jackets were walking around scanning the crowd. Bingo. These guys were definitely out of place and stuck out like a sore thumb. I hopped off the bench and made my way towards them. I followed them from a distance. At one point, they started walking towards me. I turned towards the race and pretended I was watching. They came into spitting distance. As the race cars blew past us, their engines roared. I screamed in happiness and sprayed the whiskey into my mouth. An attractive female walked up to me and wanted a spritz. I serviced her and screamed in enjoyment. I should of got an Oscar for my performance. One of the me. picked up his phone and shook his head. He hung up his phone and they started walking out of the raceway. I raced to my car and turned it on. I saw them enter into a black SUV. They left the raceway parking lot. I followed them from a distance. I followed them for about an hour until we arrived to a commercial manufacturing building. They arrived at a garage and it opened and they entered. Very suspicious. I got out of my car and walked towards the garage. I sneaked around the building and peered into the windows. Nothing. Finally I found a latter and climbed it. I sneaked across the roof and peered into a skylight. There in front of the SUV was my brother Paul. Beaten and tortured and strapped to a chair. The two men were circling my brother yelling something. One had a knife out. Shit. I was going to have to do something and quick. I assessed the situation. I had two toy squirt guns and a hillbilly disguise. I had an idea. I sneaked over to a door and opened it. I creeped down the stairs and could hear Paul screaming. Hang in there little brother. I walked in the garage. I saw the electrical box across the room. I had to turn it off somehow. But I would be in the open if walked up to him. So I pointed my squirt gun at the breaker box and started squirting. I sprayed the you gun like a machine gun. The breaker box sparked and the lights went out. I went into search and destroy mode. I walked quietly around the garage. A flash light came on. I saw a man. I squirted him. He turned and screamed from the pepper spray. The next man came out with his flash light. He got squirted too. He also started screaming. I ran over to my brother and pulled off his gag. “Time to get out of here” I said. “Who the fuck are you hillbilly?” He asked.
He emptied the mag into the spinner. It continued to pursue him. The creatures burning red eyes pierced his soul with hatred. The creature let out a howling ear piercing cry. This thing wanted him. It wanted to kill him. The spinners showed no mercy. They were a species of spiders. Except the size is a Prius. This particular spinner was chasing Greg. He didn’t know pure evil until he encountered one. It’s legged smashed against the earth. It moved violently attempting to reach him and taste his blood. On this evening, Greg was tasked to conduct a recon mission for route clearance. Obviously the route was not clear and he was not in hot water. He glanced down at his amunition read out. Empty. He conducted a mag change out. The spinner was now in spitting distance. He ejected the empty mag and fumbled in a new one and released the firing bolt. He raised his eyes to meet the creature. It was on him now. Mouth wide open it leaped for him. He launched himself backwards and started kicking for his life. The creature was trying to taste his flesh but his fangs couldn’t reach him. Greg pressed his rifle against the spinner chest creating a small distance between the two. He was now eye to eye with his. It bit and screamed wildly. Greg began shooting again and point blank range. Every bullet he shot was finding a place in the creatures hitious shell of a body. The spinner screamed in pain and pushed harder on him. With every round he let loose, he clinched his teeth harder. The spinner started using its claws an attempt to spear his head. Greg bobed and weaved the claws attempts to impale his head. He had the finess of a boxer and was trying to stay cool. He pulled the trigger and nothing. The mag was empty once again. He was dead. He thought to himself if he would go quickly. Or would this creature simply wound him and spin him into a caccon for left overs later. Maybe he would eat my legs for fun and save the rest for later. He felt a searing pane hit his shoulder. One of the creatures claws successfully found it’s mark. He was now covered im blood from head to toe. Some of the creatures. Some of his. He winced with pain and let go of his rifle. The creature grabbed it and ejected it 1000 feet away. Greg tried to fight the beast with his hands. The spinner grabbed his wrist in its jaws. It’s squeezed. He could feel his bones cracking and flesh tearing. Finally the creature pulled back violently ripping his left arm off. He was in shock he felt no pain. He screamed at the thought that he would no longer have a hand for the rest of his life. The beast continued to attack him. Unrelenting. Greg grabbed his now amputee nub of an arm to stop the bleeding and kicked the beast with all his energy he had left. Finally he felt his side arm fall out of its holster. He saw it slide in the gravel. It appeared golden and glowing to him at if it was his last chance to survive. As he reached for it with his one remaining right hand, the creature bit into his Kevlar vest and began to shake him violently side to side. With each swing, he could feel the Kevlar ripping apart. With each swing he inched closer and closer to the pistol. Finally the Kevlar gave in and was ripped from his body. The spinner realized this and speared him in the chest with one of its legs. The pain was agonizing. Now mutiliated, bleeding out and wounded fatally, he had a second rush of adrelinum kick in. If he was going down, he was taking this monster with him. Pinned to ground by the claw, he reached for the pistol. He could feel his flesh tearing as he reached. Finally he was able to reach the pistol. The creature moved in for the kill. Greg pulled the pistol up and jammed it in its mouth. “I liked that hand you fucking roach.” He said. He pulled the trigger. The pistol fired. It found its mark. Darkness creeped in. He passed out.