Week Ten Journal One

Week Ten Journal One

I threw three ice cubes into the glass, I was really picky about having exactly three ice cubes in my drinks, and slowly drizzled the scotch over the ice cubes, watching them melt ever so slightly. My doorbell rang, followed by three stern knocks before I could even get out of my chair. Cops, I thought to myself, no one ever knocks like that except cops.

I finally sauntered over to the door and grabbed the knob, I yanked hard because the door was old and stuck all the time. It was a cop, gigantic, he looked like Andre the Giant in his prime, only a little more fit and chiseled. Cowering behind him was two of my friends from last night, I presumed the only one missing was the one with the lead BB in his shin, since none of the present ones had any visible limp.

“Hello sir, Officer Johnston, these boys are alleging that you assaulted them and one of their friends last night.”

“It was really more of self defense, they repeatedly tried to enter my house and threatened me, shouting something about their dead friend. I had nothing to do with him, I hadn’t even talked to Clive for damn near ten years.”

“Well, regardless, these boys are minors, and it is against the law in this state to assault a minor, provoked or not.”

“Well that’s bullshit, there’s no way that someone can kidnap me, vandalize my house and make me go to jail; and they are not minors, they were buying me drinks in a bar before this all happened.”

“Whoa kidnapping?!” questioned the Officer, with an air of excitement. It must get boring being that physically capable, yet having to deal with stupid, petty crimes all the time.

“Yeah, kidnapping, and again they are not minors.”

“Yes, they are, and a grown man such as yourself really couldn’t fend off three high schoolers? What is your name anyways, sir?”

“Julian Ericson,” I replied, I was really good at making things up on the spot, the pressure forced my creative juices to flow.

“Well Mister Ericson, these boys do want to press charges, why don’t you gather you’re things and we can bring you downtown for booking, if you can post bail, which will probably be pretty small, you’ll be out by morning.”

“Alright, just let me put on a sweater and grab my heart pills.”

I did want to get a sweater, it was kind of cold outside, but I had no heart pills, I knew that this ordeal would take too long to play out and I did not want to watch it. I walked back to my room, with the boys and a cop still standing in my front entrance, and tossed on the thickest sweater that I could find. Being as quiet as possible, I slid my window open. I don’t think I had ever actually opened the window, had no reason to, and I could hear the paint chip as it slid up. As I was escaping, my sweater snagged on a nail that my idiot landlord had neglected to finish hammering.

I flew through the alley behind my house like a gazelle, though not quite as majestic. It was at this point that I realized running away was the stupidest possible move I could have made. The situation may have eventually moved to court, but there was no way their case would hold up, unless they hired Johnny Cochran, who was, fortunately for me, retired and deceased.

I had a friend that lived just under a mile from my house, and through the cover of backyards and night, I made my way towards his home, he would at least hide me and help get me on my way in the morning. I hoped.