Cucky heard him warn, “You make a run for it boy, and the next one goes in your nutsack. If you don’t give me no trouble, I won’t give you any either.”
Cucky wondered what he meant by that. Weren’t they trying to be justice hammers? The criminal got into the backseat of the car and Officer Balls opened the sliding glass window between the front and back. “All right, I know you’re holding, son. If you’re gonna be breaking the law and smoking crack, you might as well share some with the fine folk protecting your community, right?” The crackhead nodded, confused but aware that he should just agree. “Well, light on up then!” Officer Balls said with a big smile. “Cucky, you smoke?”
It was an odd way to ask someone that question, since in most contexts it referred to cigarettes or at least weed. Cucky shook his head, knowing full well that any attempt at refusal would be futile. The crackhead eagerly pulled out his pipe and put a small white rock into its bowl. He produced a silver tube that was basically a mini flamethrower and torched the rock, which turned golden brown and began to melt. He exhaled a small amount of smoke and his eyes instantly became bloodshot.
Officer Balls held out one hand and made an eager fanning motion towards himself with the other. The hapless crackhead was obliged to share his treasure with Officer Balls, who grabbed it. I caught a glimpse of the psychotic greed and ecstasy in his eyes before he smoked it. He lit the rock for seven seconds, which I was sure would severely burn his lungs given the size of the flame. “Hey!” the crackhead protested. Officer Balls handed the pipe back to him.
“Get the fuck out of my vehicle,” Officer Balls said between fits of coughing.
“Well I never,” the crackhead said indignantly, walking off in a huff. Cucky thought, “Well I never what? Never had a fellow crackhead take too big a hit of your crack? Never been kicked out of somewhere while you were smoking crack?”
Officer Balls was vibrating. “I’m God,” he asserted. “This whole time, I’ve been God, and I never realized it until now.” Cucky was aroused by Officer Balls’ confidence. Then he realized that this man was high on crack, severely delusional, and prone to violent outbursts. “I created all of this,” Officer Balls said, spreading his arms as though he were presenting the universe to me. “You’re welcome.” He pulled a fifth of vodka out of the glove compartment and chugged from it. It smelled awful. Vodka is made from rotten potatoes, that’s why it smells so bad.
“Where to next, boss?” Cucky asked. He had been on his way to see his girlfriend before he was kidnapped and he knew she would be worried, so he wanted to finish whatever insane list of tasks Officer Balls had in mind. It occurred to him that he might be helping Officer Balls to hurt or kill people at some point by driving him to them. But then that turned him on and he was forced to stop thinking about it. He found his eyes sliding towards Officer Balls’ groin.
“We’re doing our good deed for the day, boy. We’re gonna donate some blood. Which is to say, sell our plasma down at Octapharma for $50,” Officer Balls said pridefully. “Shit, most people just leave their blood flowing through their veins. They don’t even know how much they could be selling it for.” Cucky started to drive, and Officer Balls directed him.
As they were driving, Cucky decided to make some small talk. His father had always told him that conversation is the key to a woman’s vagina and he saw no reason that it couldn’t apply to men as well. “Officer Balls, if you don’t mind, can I ask what your first name is? And where do you come from?”
Officer Balls sighed. “My name is Harry. Yeah, my full name is Harry Balls. Kids used to tease me unmercifully. As soon as I hit puberty, I began shaving my balls daily, because I was ashamed. One day when I was supposed to go up in front of the class to give a presentation, the teacher called my full name out. The whole class started laughing. I was so sick of being made fun of that I ran to the board, spun around, and whipped them out, right in front of the class. ‘Look! Everybody look! Are THESE hairy balls???’ A bunch of kids screamed and the teacher sent me to the principal’s office, where he beat me with a sock full of wooden nickels.
“After that, everyone called me ‘that weird balls kid’. What it lacked in cleverness it made up for in hurtfulness. I became obsessed with testicles in the darkest of ways. I didn’t understand why everyone else just got to enjoy their balls and never have them be the object of ridicule. And that’s why I became a police officer,” Officer Balls concluded, pointing at the gold badge on his chest.
“That’s a really fucked up story,” Cucky commented. He realized that this honest remark wasn’t going to win him any brownie points, so he quickly added a sympathetic spin to it. “How can people be so cruel?”
“I’ll never know,” Officer Balls said, shaking his head. “As for your other question, I’m from a small town called Tennessee. I grew up on a shit farm, doing hard honest work producing one of the most underappreciated crops in the world. It was heaven, having fresh shit to eat for every meal. Our breakfast spread was incredible.” Officer Balls had a twinkle in his eyes. “There was shit on the cob, shit flakes, shit grits, creamed shit, shit bread, shit fritters, and shepherd’s shit. Every day was a delicious feast.”
“What? You ate shit for breakfast?” Cucky asked in disbelief. “Wouldn’t you die?”
Officer Balls was indignant. “Heeeelllll no! Shit has all the essential nutrients and vitamins you need to be strong and healthy! I don’t know how people don’t die from eating Pop Tarts and drinking Starbucks every morning! Where do they get their iron from?”
Cucky had ulterior motives, so he fell into agreement with Officer Balls. “Well, that sounds amazing. Sorry, I’m a city boy. I don’t know anything about which crops to eat. So, I guess working on that farm is where you got those big muscles, huh?” Cucky said, careful to keep his tone from being flirty so as not to be too forward.
Posted in: Shortened Stories