Tuesday, April 15, 2008
"It's Delorez with a Z" she said softly as she lowered the government issue Fujinon Techno-Stabi binoculars away from her tired eyes and safely tucked them below the drivers window of the Crown Victoria. Her new partner managed to grunt in the affirmative and continued to scan the Walgreens entrance in the largely deserted strip center. Weeds were growing up through the cracked asphalt in spots and were set off chiaroscuro against the backdrop of lonely shopping carts. "My momma had a unique way of spelling, guess I'm lucky I didn't get named after some imported car, huh."
"How long are we going to have wait on these little shits?" he muttered rhetorically for at least the tenth time. "We both know it's pointless. Some of these tweakers out here are third generation already. Build a big zoo and let them kill each other off."
Delorez carefully reached her right arm over the sticky upholstered seat of the unmarked car and grabbed her badly knocked off Vuitton handbag. She found the cigarette pack," hot damn two left" and started the pat down search for a lighter. Easing the cigarette in between her cracked lips, she sucked the nicotine infused breath deep into her lungs.
Exhaling the menthol cloud into a pretty sequence of concentric rings she turned and faced the young rookie. "Stakeouts are like watching paint dry. Get used to it. And why not make the best of your tired, complaining ass and run over to Basha's and get me some of those hostess cupcakes with the white squiggle on the top. Not the two pack, make sure you get the three pack."
The new deputy dutifully obeyed the senior partner's wishes and set off across the parking lot toward the market. Delorez sunk further back in the seat and continued to monitor the activity in the store. This petty thievery ring from the Arizona side had been causing a lot of mischief and the chief wanted them caught. These punks were buying cold medication for the ephedrine and cooking it up in their little tin castles to further enslave the countryside. It was hard to miss the effects on the native population, the meth mouth, the blank stares, the skull like eyes...
Her cell phone rang on the seat. "Hello?" It was her brother Lavelle, the preacher. "Ya'll coming down to the church tonight. We're having spaghetti and chicken parmesan." " No honey, I got other plans, sorry," Delorez with a z lied, as the hot desert wind started skipping an old plastic garbage bag in a nimble dance on the pavement.
©2008 Robert Sommers
Posted by Blue Heron at 10:08 AM
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jeezuz---read a little Hemingway and start editing. "It was a cold and rainy night as the wind blew against the rickety old wooden door banging out a tune that reminded me of that once popular and now, warmed over blues song from the days in the steamy jungles of VIet Nam, "Did You Ever See A One Eyed Woman Cry?" by legendary guitarist extraordinaire, Earl Hooker.
ok-only joking. Can we play pass the orange next?
Jeez, Stan, now I'm only three inches tall.
It was negative. You should feel taller.
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