It was a cool an calm morning in the year of who-knows-when. I had just picked up a jackrabbit on a charge of murder, possession, and J-walking. I was in the zone. No alligator cocktails to stew me around tonight. I was all ears. Waiting for my next victim. The mailman. How I loathed him. It would serve him well to be the next one I stuffed down a storm drain. I don't beat around the bush, and I make no apologies for my actions in the past. No matter how many widow's sons I've ran over, I keep it in the family, so to speak. I have no family, so I just keep it to myself. So just as I was pulling out, along came Spartacus, one of The Dirigibles, at top speeds down the highway. I jumped on an ostrich and gave chase. My quarry was fast, but not fast enough. I managed to chase him down as the intersection of English, Fitz and Percy. He told me he was on a mission to the klondike. I asked him what he planned to do there, but he wouldn't tell me. I let him go, then I called in t the station and had them get a warrant to surveil his activities at the klondike. It was just about then that a rabid chimpanzee made the switch to human in the blink of an eye. Can't say I wasn't surprised. So I asked him, “How'd you turn into a human like that, chimpanzee?” And he told me straight out. He says, “I figured it was best to be human than t be a watermelon-sucking-tree-goat, as it were. When faced with these options, I knew which I had to choose.” At this point I became very uncomfortable. Watermelon-sucking-tree-goats are an endangered species, and I was gonna have to run this guy in for hindering the advancement of the species. I didn't want to do it, but I knew the law, and if I didn't it was thumbscrews for me, and the blender for the chimp. I offered him a banana, but he says, “Hey, I'm off that shit, man!” Unsure what to do, I offered him a burlap sack. He climbed inside, tied it up, rolled to the station and turned himself in. I felt rather pleased. Of course, it was the chopping board for him, but I had a craving for a little back-alley-justice. So I found the nearest back alley and dispensed some justice on the hobos, winos, tramps, vagrants, and all other manner of down-on-their-luck folks that I felt far superior to. At least while I was in uniform. It's true that had they worked together, they could have pinned me down, taken my gunbelt and shoved things in my ears, but they didn't. Next things I know some kinda doctor's there hasslin me, tellin me about some dream he had. Said there was a big war or something. I pistol whipped him a few times and kept walking. Too bad for me he was a doctor, and he patched himself up and came after me again. I finally had to shoot him in the gut to get him to leave me alone. Hell, I'm a cop, I can shoot whoever I want. Things started wrapping up shortly after that. I didn't know what to do next, so I climbed into an automobile and drove out across the desert. A couple of drug abussists picked me up and started yelling at me about the benefits of mescaline. I couldn't take it, so I jumped out when they stopped to ingest some Amyls. I got my bag from the trunk just as they sped away, the trunk still open, flapping in the breeze like the American flag. I saluted then and there. Next thing I know, one of them crazy desert lizards is chewin on my leg. They're crazy poisonous, or so I'm told, and can't look at much outside of their own sphere of rhetoric and falsely imagined theories. I imagine I should get the damn thing off my leg before it pulled the whole thing off, so I started beating it with my suitcase. Eventually it let go, and ran off back into the cactus patch. I counted myself lucky, until the poison started to take hold. At this point I was somewhere near Barstow, on the edge of the desert. But I knew I wouldn't make it. I wrote my epitaph on the pavement, using the blood from my wound. Much of it was illegible, except the sections regarding midgets and the shade tree from which they are spawned. I was sure to write that in the carefullest hand possible. It was a bit of an embarrassing melodrama in the end, since I was rescued by the very same druggists I was mentioning about, on their way back to buy more drugs and guns every other depraved thing on the planet. However, they saved my life, so I owed it to them to find a way to clear their names. But telling that story would get me indicted.
