rookie

it was night. most of the streetlights had either been shot out or simply were never repaired once they'd flickered off- and it was dark. for some reason i had landed the overnight beat in the worst part of the city protecting what used to be a park. i'd already busted some hispanic meth-head trying to crawl through the window of my trailer/station and had him handcuffed to the bars while i waited for backup. soon i saw the comforting red and blue lights of my squad and relief flooded over me. surely they would not leave me here alone once they realized where i actually was. a dozen black and whites careened to a stop in front of my flimsy 'station'. the officers tumbled out of their cars in a jovial mood. it seemed they had all just heard the punchline of some hilarious and inappropriate joke and immediately began to slap me on the back and comment how well my 'initiation' was starting out. what? true i was young, but i had spent many of my years already in the department and had distinguished myself many times over, even putting myself in harms way to protect a fellow officer. why was i being 'initiated'? my questions rolled over them unheard. they gathered up my perp and rolled back out without anyone ever addressing me directly. anger rushed through my body. i checked my gun, taser, club and my dog. i knew before the night was over i would probably use them all just to survive.

as i rounded the park for the 2nd time, it began to come alive. the 1st thing i saw were the dim, yellow lights of a barely running ancient motor-home. it moved toward me like the hull of a giant, ancient, parasitized insect. when it found a length of curb, it stopped (or coincidentally gave out, it was hard to tell) and almost immediately the door opened to release an impossible number of scabby, enthusiastic children onto the filthy sidewalk. they surrounded me and peppered me with questions, 'are you afraid?', 'why did they put you here?', 'can we pet your dog?'. as i looked at them i could see they all lived lives of horrible neglect; torn, dirty, wrong sized clothing, rotten teeth, dirty hair, long black nails and bare, dirty feet. the sweetest one was a boy with a profoundly infected cleft palate. he had found a way to speak around his deformity and wanted to be sure i survived the night. 'whatever you do, don't go there' he said as he pointed to a place i had already passed once. 'why?' i asked. 'they will kill you if you walk there' he answered sincerely. i looked down at my dog who somehow seemed to understand that we were in way over our heads. 'thanks, i won't, i promise' i said as i tousled his greasy head.

there was no walkie reception anywhere in the park and i decided the meth-head would be my only arrest that night. soon the park was lined with a wall of broken campers and rv's. the children played in the dark, filthy park like it was the sweetest, sunny day ever born. their pure little voices made me feel on the verge of tears. at one point, they led me to the camper of a prostitute so one of them could retrieve a ball. as we approached, the door swung wide and a wrecked woman stood in the hollow as a john poured past her out onto the street. she laughed when she saw the expression on my face when i looked at the jackson pollack painting of menstrual blood between her legs. 'haha, oh, you 'jes a baby. da store don't close fo' a lil' rain!'