A.G.E's Joint

Broken down buildings and junkies filled this part of Moreland Ave, one whose heyday was far in the past. A faded PBR sign became animated, beckoning him to stop. Have a drink and  forget your problems. Maybe pick up an American Woman for company. That was a lie. There would be no sugar tonight. Waking up with a headache didn’t interest him. Sarah was still dead.  A gold Cadillac with a sticker saying “In Memory of Darius, 1997-2008  was in front of him. Maybe he should put one of those on his car for Sarah? No. Can’t have the attention. He drove an anonymous metal lump. He tugged at his collar. God, it was hot. He shouldn’t have worn long sleeves. He flipped on the radio and rolled down his window . A song came on about being fine or closer to it. Another total lie. Nothing was ever fine. Mother’s whisky tinged voice began yelling in his ear. Talk to the lady. What she had to say may be bullshit, but validation and clarity in how to proceed was needed.  Nah. He was ...

What if there are no superheroes ? No hope Just dumb luck. Against the machinations of life? What if there are? Someone to take the responsibility away, Benevolent and all seeing. Willing to protect and take the blame A scapegoat chased out of the city. I don’t take drugs I am drugs Blowing visions across the sky Confusing the flock Guiding them to be sheared. Best Friend Park hadn’t changed much in twenty years. The copper infield was smooth as glass and the emerald turf immaculate thanks to Old Man Johnson. Life was simpler back then. Lt. Walter Murray was here to see his grandson play T-ball for the first time this season. The first three Saturday mornings he had to work. He was happy not to think of dead people and grieving victims. Robbery and Major Crimes, the shifts were consistent. Coaching ball and playing with his kids was possible. Homicide was another animal. No two cases were the same. Dealing in death was a 24/7 on call position. When Friday night’s damage was fo...

Bam. Breathe in, gotta breathe out. Pressed the detonator again, nothing.  Breathe in….Breathe out… Bam Splinters as the door exploded inward… ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The bartender came up said the ride was here; did you want to finish the drink? Yea, one more sip. Need one more sip. Slipping and sliding into oblivion.  The paring knife appeared, slashing wildly. Fire began just under his right hand and moved upward. Something wet and sticky landed across his face.  He sees Charon sitting at the helm at the Styx, waiting for his passengers. Scaled harpies kept pulling him toward the depths. Sirens with voices like perfume sang sweetly, beckoning him further toward the boat. Jeremy could see the Angels stitched into the sails, their mouths moving with the breeze.  “I’m your ride, leave your burdens down.” Sarah!  The Scarlet aperture closing al...

This is it. I found it. I’m in Hell,   Herrington thought. The press briefing made him a man condemned. The armchair firing squad was waiting to begin the analysis in earnest. How did Allen get this far? Was this the only road to take or was there one less traveled ?   Was it because of the full moon ?   Questions with no answers, but they still will be asked.  Allen was white, and this was good thing. The professional gadflies wouldn’t have anything to use and the furor over the outcome would be able to die quicker. In fact, most of the useful idiots would just say good riddance. That was a cold thought, though. This was certainly a troubled young man, probably irretrievably broken, but still a living, breathing person.  With a whistle, he motioned everyone back behind the Bomb Squad truck. Alfred the Robot was still at the car, animatronic arm suspended mid grab. It was determined the device was a real pipe bomb, but for some reason unarmed. As...