The Case of the Drunken Beach Ho
A Semi-Fiction Novel
By.... Peter Hill
10:05am Sunday September 11th, 2016. Another knock on that freakin door again.
“Go away bitch”, I yelled from the comfort of my couch. I heard a voice mutter. It sounded
as though they were saying, it’s the police. Hmmmmm I thought,” maybe a car crashed
outside and they want to know if I heard anything”. Laying there on that comfortable couch,
I really did not want to get up again. But I figured hey, it’s the cops,maybe i can do something
good for my comunity right?
I get up off the couch and head towards the stage door. I open the door a few inches
to see an officer from the Indian Shores Police Department. He inquires about the telephone
cable box out on the side of the street and if I had heard any noises recently. I responded in
my “I’ve just been woke up again” tone, “no I heard nothing, sorry”. The Officer then requests
me to step outside. Of course I comply with his request, as we all would in that situation, right people?
Standing on the outside of the building, squinting my eyes to the light that has now interrupted
my savory slumber, the officer questions me about an apparent scratch on my arm. Unaware of
any scratch, I turn my squinting eyes to look at my arm. Yup, sure as crap, there’s a little scratch
on my right forearm. He questions me more. He asks, “how did you get that scratch on your arm?”
I respond, in a half awaken breath, “the bitch I kicked out of here a few hours ago must have
scratched me officer”. The Officer then commands me to turn around. Knowing what is going to
happen next, via my previous experience in life; I do as he says and the handcuffs go on.
At this point, after being woken up twice in one night, scratched by a crazy lady, slapped in
cuffs and not even asked more than a question or two, I am in no mood to deal with any
more humans. So without the Officer, or I, exchanging any more dialog, he puts me in his car.
Then, the bartender shows up......
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